Three days passed quietly.
Too quietly.
To most outer disciples, life was the same—training at dawn, chores at noon, exhaustion by night. But Lin Ye felt it.
The pressure.
Ever since the Forbidden Spirit Garden incident, the flow of spiritual energy around the sect had subtly shifted. It was almost imperceptible, like a river diverted by a single stone.
Fate was recalculating.
Lin Ye welcomed it.
Because he knew exactly what fate would try to correct first.
It happened during a routine supply delivery.
Outer disciples were sent down the eastern mountain path to retrieve spirit stones from a storage outpost. Lin Ye was assigned near the back, carrying a wooden crate balanced easily on his shoulder.
He remembered this day.
Clear as crystal.
In his past life, an outer disciple named Chen Rui would slip on this path, fall into the ravine below, and die before anyone could reach him.
No witnesses.
No investigation.
Just another meaningless death.
Except Chen Rui wasn't meaningless.
Ten years later, his name would shake the entire cultivation world.
The Blood-Pattern Devil Lord.
A man who would massacre sects, burn cities, and slaughter tens of thousands in revenge for a world that had abandoned him.
And it all began here.
Lin Ye slowed his steps.
Ahead, Chen Rui walked alone, thin and hunched, his robe worn thin at the elbows. He was unremarkable—no talent, no background, no allies.
The kind of person fate enjoyed crushing.
The wind picked up.
Pebbles shifted beneath Chen Rui's foot.
Lin Ye felt it before it happened.
That same resistance.
That same tug.
So you want him dead, Lin Ye thought.
Chen Rui stumbled.
Time stretched.
Lin Ye dropped his crate.
It hit the ground with a sharp crack.
"Watch out!" someone shouted—but too late.
Chen Rui slipped completely, his body pitching toward the ravine.
Lin Ye moved.
To anyone watching, it would look like a reflex.
To fate—
It was rebellion.
He lunged forward, grabbing Chen Rui's wrist mid-fall.
Pain tore through Lin Ye's shoulder as momentum dragged him forward. Gravel cut into his knees. The ravine yawned below them, dark and endless.
For a split second, Lin Ye felt the world push back.
Hard.
His grip weakened.
His vision blurred.
Not yet, he thought calmly.
With a grunt, he twisted, slamming his foot against a jutting rock and hauling Chen Rui back onto solid ground.
They collapsed together, gasping.
Silence fell.
Then—
"Are you insane?!" an outer disciple yelled. "You could've died!"
Lin Ye ignored him.
Chen Rui stared at him, eyes wide, trembling violently.
"I… I was going to—" His voice cracked. "You saved me."
Lin Ye released his wrist and stood.
"Don't thank me," he said flatly. "Watch your step next time."
He turned and walked away.
But he knew.
He felt it.
Behind him, Chen Rui's gaze burned.
Not with gratitude.
With something sharper.
Something darker.
That night, Lin Ye bled.
He sat cross-legged in his room, sweat pouring down his face, veins bulging as pain wracked his body.
Not physical pain.
Correction.
That was the word that came to mind.
Fate did not like what he had done.
Saving Chen Rui was not a small deviation.
It was a fracture.
A future calamity preserved.
The backlash surged through his meridians like ice-cold fire, tearing at his dantian, forcing blood from his nose and mouth.
Lin Ye clenched his teeth.
So this is the price.
He endured.
Did not scream.
Did not beg.
Because he remembered something fate did not.
Chen Rui's rise had not been immediate.
It had been forged through despair.
Through loss.
Through being abandoned again and again.
Saving him once was not enough.
But it was the first anchor.
When the pain finally subsided, Lin Ye slumped forward, breathing heavily.
His cultivation was still low.
But his foundation—
It was changing.
Becoming… heavier.
More real.
The next morning, rumors exploded.
"Did you hear? Someone interfered with a destined death!"
"That's nonsense."
"Elder Sun personally inspected the eastern path!"
Lin Ye kept his head down as he swept leaves.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Elder Sun standing at the ravine's edge, his expression dark.
"This shouldn't be possible…" the elder muttered.
Lin Ye smiled faintly.
It wasn't.
Mu Qingxue noticed him that afternoon.
She had been watching for a while before she realized it.
Lin Ye moved differently now.
Before, he had been earnest. Driven. Almost desperate to prove himself.
Now—
He was quiet.
Controlled.
Like someone who already knew the ending.
She approached as he refilled water jars.
"Lin Ye," she said.
He turned.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, her breath caught.
Something flickered in her chest—a strange sense of familiarity, like remembering a dream she had never had.
"Yes?" he replied calmly.
"You… were you injured yesterday?" she asked. "I heard someone fell."
"No," he said. "I'm fine."
A pause.
Then she frowned slightly. "Have we… met before?"
Lin Ye held her gaze.
In another life, he would have smiled warmly.
In another life, he would have loved her with everything he had.
Now—
"No," he said gently. "We haven't."
Her heart skipped.
She didn't know why.
That night, Chen Rui stood alone outside his quarters.
His hands shook.
His mind replayed the fall again and again—the emptiness, the certainty of death.
And the hand that had grabbed him.
Why did he save me?
No one had ever saved him before.
Something twisted deep inside his chest.
He clenched his fists.
"I won't forget this," he whispered into the dark.
Far away, Lin Ye opened his eyes.
He smiled.
The second piece was in place.