Pain.
A sensation so crude, so earthly, that it seemed almost laughable compared to the nothingness he had once inhabited. Lin Yuan's eyes snapped open. The room swam around him. A dull ache pressed against his skull. His lungs burned with every intake of air. This was… life. Fragile, imperfect, weighted with limitations he had once transcended.
"Ha… ha…" he coughed, his voice hoarse, foreign to his own ears. The sound felt heavy, tangible, unlike the calm certainty he remembered from his last life at the peak of boundlessness.
The ceiling above him was low, wooden, and cracked. Faint light leaked through a small, grimy window, illuminating the dust that floated lazily in the air. A lamp flickered on a small table, its oil sputtering weakly. The smell of damp earth, old wood, and faint incense filled the room.
This place was… small. Humble. Mortal.
He tried to move his fingers. They twitched. Callused, worn by labor. Scarred, but alive. Not powerful, not refined, not infinite. Just flesh.
He raised his hand higher, then clenched a fist. Nothing happened. No bending of reality, no spark of Dao, no echo of the boundless power he once commanded. Only the dull ache of muscles protesting motion.
Lin Yuan closed his eyes, centering himself. Memories came, not his own, but those tied to this body.
A mountain sect.
Endless labor.
Scorn from fellow disciples.
Harsh elders.
Nights spent trying to condense Qi into a meridian system that refused to cooperate.
Failure. Humiliation. Nothing but failure.
Name: Lin Yuan
Age: 16
Background: Orphan
Status: Outer disciple of Azure Stone Sect
Cultivation: Qi Refinement Realm, Third Layer
Talent: Low-grade Mortal Root
A body bound by mediocrity. A life destined to be crushed by the sect's hierarchy.
And yet… at the center of his consciousness, untouched by the frailty of this mortal shell, lay something extraordinary. A Seed.
Not power. Not energy. Not even memory. But logic.
I exist.
A simple truth. Uncomplicated. But in that simplicity lay infinite possibility.
Therefore, Dao bends to comprehension.
Lin Yuan inhaled. Qi flowed into his body.
To ordinary disciples, Qi was energy—wild, capricious, something to force into obedience. They learned techniques, followed rituals, and disciplined themselves until their bodies either broke or formed a foundation strong enough to contain it.
To Lin Yuan, Qi was information. Patterns. Flow. Response. Cause and effect. Meridians were not mere pathways—they were circuits. Qi was not just energy—it was data.
He observed. Analyzed. Tested. The Qi in this body was crude, uneven. Some meridians were blocked, scarred, or uneven. But none of this mattered.
Lin Yuan breathed slowly. Adjusted subtly. Qi responded. Not explosively. Not violently. A quiet restructuring occurred, like sediment settling at the bottom of a still pond. Meridians expanded slightly, impurities drained. Qi flowed freely.
Third Layer.
Fourth.
Fifth.
It stopped. Not because he lacked comprehension. Not because his body could not refine further. But because the realm itself imposed a limit.
Lin Yuan exhaled, calm, almost amused.
This world permits this much.
He rose from the floor. His legs were thin, untrained. His muscles weak, but his inner stability was absolute. This body was fragile, but it would serve.
A knock sounded at the door. Sharp, impatient.
"Lin Yuan! Are you dead in there?"
Zhao Kun. Outer disciple. Qi Refinement Sixth Layer. Known for arrogance and petty cruelty.
"Get out here!" the voice barked. "Outer disciples are gathering! Elder Fang is personally testing cultivation today!"
Testing. The word echoed in Lin Yuan's mind.
The Azure Stone Sect had no mercy for failure. Outer disciples existed to be filtered, sorted, and discarded. Failure meant humiliation. Worse, expulsion often meant wandering a dangerous world alone, unprotected. Many disappeared. Few survived.
Lin Yuan did not flinch. He walked to the door, opening it calmly. The courtyard stretched before him. Dozens of disciples gathered, all clad in gray robes, some of slightly better quality. Their whispers sliced the air:
"Is that Lin Yuan?"
"Still stuck at the Third Layer?"
"Why is he even here?"
Zhao Kun stepped aside, a smirk curling his lips, his Qi flaring casually.
At the front stood Elder Fang, eyes sharp, posture rigid, hands clasped behind his back. Foundation Establishment Realm. To this body, he was godlike. To Lin Yuan… another cultivator bound by fragile mortal Dao.
"Begin," Elder Fang commanded.
One by one, disciples stepped forward, releasing their Qi. The air buzzed with energy, sharp and uneven. The lower layers were weak, chaotic, sloppy. Those above displayed refinement, control, focus.
Finally, it was Lin Yuan's turn.
He stepped forward calmly. Nothing about him demanded attention. Yet when he released his Qi…
A ripple passed through the courtyard. Subtle, smooth, absolute. Elder Fang's eyes narrowed. Whispers erupted. Zhao Kun's face darkened.
"Fifth Layer?" Elder Fang asked, incredulous.
Lin Yuan's gaze remained steady. A quiet, unyielding confidence radiated from him.
"Yes," he said simply.
Silence followed. Some were shocked. Some envious. Some suspicious.
This world is crude, Lin Yuan thought.
Its Dao is shallow. Its laws are weak.
Perfect.
From the lowest realm, he would climb. Step by step. Realm by realm.
Not just to reclaim what was lost, but to transcend it. To surpass even his former boundless self.
Because this time, he would not merely challenge Dao.
He would become it.
The courtyard fell silent, all eyes fixed on Lin Yuan.
Whispers rippled like wind through the outer disciples.
"Impossible…"
"He was stuck at the Third Layer… and now—?"
"He… he didn't even strain. And yet his Qi is so stable…"
Zhao Kun's smirk faded, replaced by a twitch of anger. He had trained for years, yet this fragile-looking boy—always sluggish, always behind—had somehow leapt past him quietly, effortlessly.
Elder Fang's sharp gaze did not waver. He observed Lin Yuan's Qi as though it were a foreign element, not a cultivator. The energy flowed smooth, like a river unblocked, yet contained. Subtle fluctuations hinted at refinement far beyond what a Fifth Layer Qi Refiner should manage.
"Lin Yuan," Elder Fang said, voice low and precise. "Explain your technique."
Lin Yuan bowed slightly. "Disciple did not employ any specific technique, Elder. Qi flows naturally according to the body's structure and refinement process."
A murmur of disbelief passed through the crowd. Outer disciples rarely achieved a breakthrough without following sect methods. The Azure Stone Sect was strict. Methods were rigid. Following the formula was considered mandatory.
Lin Yuan stepped forward, quietly analyzing his surroundings. Every movement, every breath, every Qi fluctuation of others in the courtyard registered in his mind. He did not merely sense energy—he understood its pattern, its inefficiency, its logic.
Zhao Kun, unable to contain himself, sneered. "You're lying. There's no way your Qi can be that stable without a breakthrough method. You must have… cheated. Used forbidden techniques or stolen another disciple's training secret!"
Lin Yuan's lips curved into a faint smile. "I do not need techniques stolen from others, nor do I need methods bound by the limitations of their Dao. I simply let Qi obey my comprehension."
The words were calm, almost casual, yet they carried an invisible weight.
The other disciples' whispers grew louder. Some were skeptical; others began to shift in unease. Even those who had ignored Lin Yuan for months now looked at him with attention bordering on fear.
Elder Fang's eyes narrowed. He walked slowly around Lin Yuan, scrutinizing the energy flow like a master examining a rare jade. "Your meridians… unusual. Stable yet flexible. Crude yet efficient. You're not merely strong for your layer… your cultivation logic surpasses that of most disciples in the Foundation Establishment Realm. Explain yourself, Lin Yuan."
Lin Yuan remained composed. He did not speak immediately. Instead, his mind worked quietly, observing. The law of Qi in this mortal realm was shallow. It obeyed rhythm, resistance, flow, and capacity. All cultivators were constrained by tradition, by preexisting methods, by rigid layering.
But rules exist only until someone understands them.
He extended his perception subtly, tracing Zhao Kun's Qi path. Weak points appeared immediately—excess turbulence in the lower meridians, unrefined compression, even slight over-expansion in the heart channel. Zhao Kun was strong, yes, but inefficient. His Qi required constant adjustment to maintain stability.
Lin Yuan opened his eyes, calm. "Elder, this realm imposes natural limits. Every disciple has a ceiling determined by meridian structure and body type. One can refine Qi beyond their layer only by bending logic, not by following methods. I have… observed, understood, and optimized according to the body's inherent laws. That is all."
The courtyard was utterly silent now. Not a single sound. Even the wind seemed to pause.
Zhao Kun's face flushed red. He gritted his teeth. "You… you're insane. Claiming such control at the Fifth Layer? You dare lecture me?"
Lin Yuan's gaze flickered toward him. "I am not lecturing. I am simply stating what is true."
A faint hum rose from the edge of the courtyard. Some outer disciples unconsciously began testing their own Qi, comparing it. None came close. Even those who had studied methods longer than Lin Yuan's life could not maintain such smooth, steady refinement.
Elder Fang's expression shifted subtly. He did not speak. Instead, he observed Lin Yuan for several long moments, then finally nodded slowly.
"Very well," he said. "Your comprehension is… remarkable. Proceed. But know this: the sect tests all disciples beyond the limits of their layers. True strength is not measured by a single breakthrough. You will face many trials, and only by surviving will you ascend."
Lin Yuan bowed. "Disciple understands."
He returned to the courtyard edge, silent, unbothered by the stares, the whispers, or Zhao Kun's simmering anger.
Inside, however, Lin Yuan's mind was active, alive. He traced the patterns of this world's Dao. The law of Qi, while crude, was consistent. The meridians of disciples, though imperfect, followed repeatable patterns. He began to map the underlying logic silently, like a mathematician drawing invisible equations in the air.
So this is a mortal world.
Rules are fixed, methods shallow, ceilings imposed artificially.
Perfect. I will climb through understanding, not brute force.
Zhao Kun could not understand, and neither could the other disciples. They measured strength in layers, techniques, and raw Qi output. Lin Yuan measured it in laws, logic, and efficiency.
The thought alone caused a faint shift in his body's potential. Qi responded instantly. His meridians, already refined, reorganized minutely, compressing inefficiencies and creating a subtle but stable increase in energy capacity.
He was calm, but inside, he was already planning. The Azure Stone Sect had rules. Elder Fang had limits. His body had limits. And yet… none of this would stop him.
Because Lin Yuan had something no one else did: the memory of boundless comprehension, a knowledge of Dao beyond mortal constraints.
Every restriction has a pattern. Every limit can be bypassed if one understands the logic.
The first ripple of envy hit Zhao Kun. Others began to watch Lin Yuan with something between fear and admiration. Even Elder Fang's scrutiny could not mask a spark of curiosity, of interest.
Lin Yuan stepped back silently, allowing the whispers to swirl around him.
This was only the beginning.
The first display was quiet, almost invisible. No explosions, no flashy techniques, no grandstanding. Yet it left a mark. Those who saw it would remember.
And they will remember me, Lin Yuan thought calmly.
Long before they understand, I will surpass them all
The whispers in the courtyard did not fade.
Lin Yuan returned to the edge of the formation, moving quietly, deliberately ignoring Zhao Kun's boiling frustration. The boy's gaze burned like a blade, sharp and petty, but Lin Yuan's mind was elsewhere—already analyzing, already planning.
Strength is more than technique.
It is understanding. Observation. Logic.
The Azure Stone Sect had rules—dozens of them. Outer disciples were meant to obey, to toil, to be filtered by failure. Yet, for someone like Lin Yuan, they were nothing more than a framework to study, to exploit.
He allowed his perception to expand subtly. Qi in the courtyard flowed like a web, every disciple a node, every fluctuation a data point. The ebb and surge of energy told stories—the hesitation of novices, the arrogance of intermediates, the disciplined flow of those nearing the Foundation Establishment Realm.
Even Elder Fang's scrutiny became a data point. Not just power, but intention. Decision-making speed. Subtle changes in Qi density.
So predictable, Lin Yuan thought, a faint smirk curling his lips.
The murmurs of other disciples shifted again. Some glanced nervously at Zhao Kun, who could barely contain his fury. Others, those who had ignored Lin Yuan for months, now tilted their heads curiously, as if trying to guess the secret behind his sudden rise.
Then, a new voice rang out from the side of the courtyard. Clear. Calm. Slightly amused.
"You're not like the others, are you?"
Lin Yuan turned. At the edge of the courtyard stood a young woman, barely a year or two older than him. Her robe was white, embroidered with subtle silver patterns that denoted a minor bloodline or inner connection to a sect branch. But it was not her attire that caught his attention.
Her eyes—sharp, calculating, yet serene—were fixed on him with unshakable focus.
Lin Yuan tilted his head, analyzing her presence. Qi flowed lightly from her body, faint but precise. A Nascent Soul cultivator, most likely. Her talent was exceptional, if subtle.
"You read Qi like a book," she said, voice quiet, almost playful. "Most people can barely control their own energy, yet you understand the flow of everyone around you. That's… rare."
Lin Yuan smiled faintly. "Observation is the first step to comprehension."
She studied him a moment longer, then nodded. "I thought so. Few have your logic. Few even try."
Zhao Kun, still fuming, stomped forward. "What are you whispering about, fool?"
The girl's gaze flicked to him. A faint smile touched her lips. "Your Qi is chaotic. You lack focus."
Zhao Kun's face burned red. He opened his mouth to argue, but no words came. The girl's presence—calm, deliberate, and perceptive—was unnerving. For the first time, Zhao Kun felt powerless.
Lin Yuan noted her reaction. Interesting. Not just talent, but insight, patience, and a mind tuned to Dao observation. A potential ally—or obstacle.
She may be important, Lin Yuan thought. Or at least, useful.
Elder Fang's voice cut through the murmurs. "Lin Yuan, Zhao Kun, enough. This test is only the beginning. Those who cannot keep pace will fall behind. And those who overreach… risk failure far worse than disgrace."
Lin Yuan bowed slightly. "Disciple understands."
The courtyard buzzed quietly. Some outer disciples retreated into themselves, intimidated. Others whispered nervously, uncertain how to react to the sudden shift in hierarchy.
Good, Lin Yuan thought. Attention is the first tool in influence.
He allowed himself a moment of private amusement. Even without overt power, even without flashy displays, he had already marked the minds of everyone in the courtyard. Respect, envy, fear, curiosity—he had planted the seeds of all three.
And in the quiet corner, the girl in white had noticed.
Lin Yuan's eyes flicked back toward the mountains stretching beyond the sect. Vast peaks, shrouded in clouds, their tips sharp like blades. Beyond them, the world waited—dangerous, beautiful, alive. Endless opportunity lay in the trials, the sect wars, the Dao competitions, and the conflicts that would inevitably rise among powerful disciples.
He did not fear them.
This body is fragile, but my mind is not.
Every limit can be understood, every restriction bypassed.
As the sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the courtyard, Lin Yuan felt the first stirrings of ambition. Not for wealth, not for fame, not even for the fleeting recognition of his peers.
For understanding. For growth. For Dao.
He would climb the Azure Stone Sect, step by step. Each rival, each elder, each law-bound rule would either serve him or be broken.
Zhao Kun's glare followed him as he retreated to the side. Lin Yuan ignored it, but his mind registered the boy's patterns—the predictable surges of Qi, the overcompensation in his attacks, the tendency to act before thinking.
All will serve me, he mused quietly. The fools who follow, the enemies who oppose, and the rare few who understand—each will shape the path upward.
The girl in white shifted slightly, stepping closer to observe. She did not speak, only watched. Lin Yuan acknowledged her with a subtle nod, understanding the silent challenge in her gaze.
A smirk curved his lips. So it begins.
The first day in the outer disciple courtyard ended quietly, but for Lin Yuan, it was a day of victory. Not through force. Not through display. But through observation, comprehension, and subtle manipulation of the patterns around him.
The sect is small, the rules shallow, and the mortals predictable.
Perfect. From here, the climb begins.
As the shadows lengthened and the crowd dispersed, Lin Yuan's thoughts turned inward. He did not just plan for today. He planned for the future. The immortal path. The Dao beyond laws. The Boundless beyond existence.
And in that quiet, careful planning, a single truth crystallized in his mind:
I will not only ascend. I will surpass all realms. And I will do it my way.