"What? Where am I?" Lin Feng groaned, his voice hoarse and weak.
A splitting headache assaulted him the moment he tried to open his eyes.
He raised a trembling hand and pressed it against his forehead, rubbing hard as if that might push the pain away.
His vision swam, the world spinning slightly as he forced himself to sit up.
The last thing he remembered was drinking. A lot.
Too much.
He had been out with his friends again, drowning himself in alcohol after yet another failed confession.
Another beautiful girl. The same outcome.
One hundred attempts, one hundred merciless rejections.
At twenty-five years old, Lin Feng had never held a girl's hand, never had a girlfriend, and was still a virgin.
In internet slang, he was the textbook definition of a "single dog."
"Damn it…" he muttered bitterly. "Did I drink myself into the hospital this time?"
But something felt wrong.
The surroundings were unfamiliar.
There was no hospital smell, no white ceiling, no beeping machines.
Instead, everything felt… strange.
Before he could examine his situation further, a sharp sensation struck his mind.
"What is this?" Lin Feng cried out.
In an instant, an overwhelming deluge of memories came crashing into his consciousness—memories that were not his own.
Scenes, names, emotions, and experiences flashed past his eyes like a raging torrent.
He braced himself, expecting unbearable pain, but to his surprise, there was none.
The memories flowed smoothly, merging with his own as if fitting perfectly into place.
After a few short breaths, it was over.
Lin Feng froze.
These memories belonged to another Lin Feng—a youth from an entirely different world, one where people cultivated spiritual energy, trained their bodies, and sought immortality.
Sect disciples, spiritual roots, cultivation realms… concepts that only existed in novels were now vividly engraved in his mind.
Cold sweat broke out across his back.
"No way…" he whispered, his heart pounding violently.
A terrible realization dawned on him, sending chills down his spine.
"Oh no…" Lin Feng exclaimed, his face turning pale.
"I've transmigrated into a cultivation world!"
The body he now possessed belonged to someone who shared his exact name—Lin Feng.
As if fate were mocking him, this Lin Feng was also twenty-five years old.
Unfortunately, his circumstances in this world were just as miserable, if not worse.
He was a lowly outer instructor at Spirit Spring Academy, a place that nurtured young cultivators and prepared them for greater sects.
Among the many prestigious elders and gifted teachers, Lin Feng was nothing more than a nameless nobody.
He had been teaching at the academy for over a year.
When he first arrived, his situation had seemed promising.
Tall, refined, and extraordinarily handsome, Lin Feng quickly became popular among new students.
Many of them—especially the female disciples—eagerly chose him as their instructor, believing that such an impressive appearance surely hid great ability.
Reality, however, was cruel.
Lin Feng lacked both teaching talent and cultivation insight.
He struggled to explain even basic techniques clearly, often relying on rigid textbook knowledge rather than true understanding.
Under his guidance, his students' cultivation advanced at a snail's pace.
While their peers broke through realms and gained recognition, Lin Feng's students remained stagnant, becoming objects of ridicule within the academy.
Dissatisfaction spread quickly.
One by one, his students requested transfers, leaving him for instructors with proven results.
At first, Lin Feng tried to comfort himself, telling himself that the next batch of students would be different.
But as time passed, even his own excuses began to ring hollow.
Eventually, not a single student remained under his name.
For nearly three months, Lin Feng had taught empty classrooms, his voice echoing pointlessly against cold stone walls.
Every day he walked past other instructors surrounded by eager disciples, while he stood alone, pretending not to notice the pity and mockery in their eyes.
Academy regulations were merciless.
If an instructor went six months without a single student, they would be expelled—stripped of their position, resources, and protection.
Lin Feng had already used up half of that grace period.
If he failed to recruit even one student within the remaining three months, he would be driven out of Spirit Spring Academy with nothing.
Fear gnawed at him day and night.
Desperate to change his fate, Lin Feng pushed himself beyond his limits.
He spent an entire week locked in his quarters, surviving on minimal food and water, poring over cultivation manuals, teaching records, and ancient notes.
He memorized theories he barely understood, forcing knowledge into his mind in the hope that sheer effort could compensate for his lack of talent.
Sleep became a luxury he could not afford.
By the seventh night, his eyes were bloodshot, his body trembling with exhaustion.
Still, he refused to rest. If he failed, his future would be over.
That night, completely drained, Lin Feng finally collapsed onto his bed.
He fell asleep.
And never woke up.
Thus, the original Lin Feng quietly vanished from this world.
In his place, the Lin Feng from the modern world opened his eyes, inheriting not only this body and its memories, but also an empty classroom, a ticking deadline, and a fate teetering on the edge of ruin.
"Is it really true?" Lin Feng bolted upright from the bed, his heart pounding with a mix of disbelief and wild excitement.
He stumbled across the dimly lit room toward the full-sized bronze mirror propped against the wall, his bare feet slapping against the cold stone floor.
The moment his reflection came into view, he froze, eyes widening as he took in the stranger staring back at him.
The face was chiseled perfection—sharp jawline, high cheekbones, deep-set eyes that gleamed with an almost irresistible charm, and lips curved in a natural, confident smirk.
His hair, once thin and greasy on Earth, now fell in thick, lustrous black waves down to his shoulders.
He was tall—easily over six feet—broad-shouldered and lean, the kind of physique that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods themselves.