The heavens were silent.
That alone was wrong.
Li Chen stood at the peak of the Ascension Platform, robes torn by violent currents of Qi. Beneath his feet, the mountain cracked inch by inch, unable to bear the pressure of his presence.
A thousand years.
That was how long it had taken him to stand here.
A thousand years of cultivation, slaughter, betrayal, and solitude.
He had never bowed.Never apologized.Never listened.
The Dao Realm lay one step away.
Above him, the sky twisted into a vast spiral of light. Dao patterns descended like ancient scriptures, each one heavy enough to crush a lesser cultivator into dust.
This was ascension.
This was victory.
Li Chen closed his eyes.
"Inner demons…" he muttered, lips curling into a faint sneer.
"Meaningless."
Qi surged.
His meridians roared as power flooded through them, violent and unchecked. His Dao Heart pulsed, forcefully, arrogantly—demanding the heavens acknowledge him.
For a brief moment—
The world obeyed.
Then—
Something stirred.
Not above.Not around.
Inside.
A chill crawled up his spine.
Li Chen's eyes snapped open.
The Dao patterns trembled.
A low chuckle echoed in the depths of his consciousness, slow and amused, as if it had been waiting a very long time to be heard.
His Dao Heart cracked.
Just a hairline fracture.
But the sound—
It was deafening.
The chuckle deepened.
Not loud.Not frantic.
Calm.
Amused.
Li Chen's breathing slowed, not from control—but instinct. Something older than cultivation screamed at him to be alert.
"Show yourself," he said.
The voice answered immediately.
"After a thousand years?"
The Dao patterns above him warped, their light dimming as if stained by shadow. Black threads seeped out from Li Chen's chest, thin at first—then writhing.
They twisted.
Condensed.
Took form.
A figure stepped out of him.
Same face.Same eyes.Same cultivation pressure.
The only difference—
The smile.
The Inner Demon tilted its head, studying him like a familiar stranger.
"You really thought ignoring me would make me disappear?"
Li Chen raised his hand. Qi surged, violent and sharp.
The Inner Demon didn't dodge.
The strike passed through it—and struck him instead.
Pain exploded in his chest.
Li Chen staggered back a step.
Just one.
The heavens shook.
The Inner Demon sighed, almost disappointed.
"You never reflected.""Never doubted.""Never asked why your Dao felt hollow."
Cracks spread across Li Chen's Dao Heart, branching like spiderwebs.
Memories poured out.
Faces he crushed.Disciples he discarded.Warnings he laughed at.
His expression finally changed.
Not fear.
Disbelief.
"I don't need you," Li Chen said coldly. "I reached this realm alone."
The Inner Demon laughed.
Not mockery.
Pity.
"Exactly."
It stepped forward.
The Dao patterns above shattered.
The sky screamed.
Black Qi flooded his meridians, tearing through them with intimate precision—like hands that knew exactly where to press.
Li Chen tried to circulate Qi.
Nothing responded.
For the first time since he began cultivating—
His body did not obey him.
The Inner Demon leaned close, voice a whisper only he could hear.
"You built power.""I built the cost."
Darkness collapsed inward.
The Ascension Platform crumbled.
The heavens turned away.
And Li Chen fell—
Not through space.
Not through time.
But through himself.
There was no pain.
That was the first thing Li Chen noticed.
No body being torn apart.No soul shattering.No final scream.
Just falling.
Endless,
soundless,
directionless.
Li Chen screamed and sat upright.
His breath came in short, panicked gasps, chest rising and falling far too quickly. His heart thudded wildly, loud in his ears, as if it might burst.
"Ha—ha—"
Tears blurred his vision.
The world around him was wrong.
No shattered heavens.No Ascension Platform.No Dao patterns.
Just a dimly lit room.
Wooden beams crossed the ceiling. The smell of medicine and old wood hung faintly in the air. A thin blanket clung to his small body.
Small.
Li Chen looked down.
Short arms.Slender fingers.A child's body.
His hands trembled as he clenched them.
Before he could think—
The door flew open.
"Chen'er!"
A girl rushed in, barely taller than the doorframe. She couldn't have been more than ten years old, hair tied hurriedly, eyes wide with worry.
She ran to the bedside and grabbed him tightly.
"You were screaming again," she said, voice shaking. "Another bad dream?"
Her arms were thin, but warm.
Li Chen froze.
Fragments of memory surfaced—not from the dream, but from this life.
This was his sister.
One of them.
"…I'm fine," he said, his voice soft—too soft.
She pulled back slightly, studying his face. "You looked like you were dying," she muttered, brushing his hair aside. "You scared me."
Dying.
The word made his chest tighten.
The images from the dream were already fading—cracked skies, a shadow with his face, laughter that made his heart fracture.
Unreal.
Just a dream.
That was all it was.
Li Chen lay back down slowly.
The girl tucked the blanket around him before standing. "Get some rest," she said. "Father will be angry if you fall sick again."
She hesitated, then added quietly, "I'll stay nearby."
When she left, the room fell silent.
Li Chen stared at the ceiling.
Seven years old.
Eighth son of the Li Clan—one of the great clans of the region.
Above him were many siblings.Brothers.Sisters.
Family in name only.
He wasn't close to any of them.
Never had been.
The dream lingered at the edge of his thoughts, leaving behind an unfamiliar pressure in his chest.
As if something important had been forgotten.
As if something had been lost.
Li Chen turned onto his side and closed his eyes.
"…Just a dream," he whispered.
But deep down—
He wasn't convinced.
Morning light filtered through the thin paper windows.
Li Chen woke before the servants called the hour.
He lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening to the distant sounds of the Li Clan estate coming alive—footsteps on stone, murmured orders, the faint clang of metal somewhere far away.
This was his life.
He pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. They barely reached the floor.
Small.
Weak.
Seven years old.
The door opened quietly.
"Chen'er."
The girl from last night stepped inside, carrying a folded robe. In the morning light, her features were clearer—soft but sharp-eyed, her movements practiced and careful.
Li Chen's memories supplied her name.
Li Yuanyin.
His second elder sister.
The gentle one.
She knelt and handed him the robe. "Put this on. Breakfast will start soon."
He nodded and changed without speaking.
Yuanyin watched him for a moment, then sighed lightly. "You should try to be on time today. Father dislikes excuses."
Father.
The word carried weight—but little warmth.
Yuanyin helped tie his sash before standing. "Come."
They walked through the outer corridors of the estate together. Servants moved quickly around them, heads lowered, never meeting their eyes.
Some bowed slightly.
Most ignored him.
Li Chen noticed everything.
The Li Clan was vast.
Stone paths stretched endlessly, lined with training grounds, pavilions, and courtyards reserved for those with status.
He did not belong to any of them.
At breakfast, his siblings were already seated.
He recognized them all.
The eldest brother, Li Zhen, sat straight-backed, calm and distant.
Next to him, the first elder sister, Li Meiyu, composed and sharp-eyed.
Then came the three brothers after her—Li Qiang, Li Wen, and Li Hao—each already discussing cultivation with thinly veiled competitiveness.
Across from them sat the youngest elder sister, Li Ruoxue, quiet and observant.
Seven of them.
Then him.
The eighth.
No one spoke to Li Chen.
No one waited for him.
A servant placed a bowl of thin porridge in front of him and moved on without pause.
Li Chen ate slowly.
He noticed how servants lingered longer near his brothers. How elders nodded approvingly at the others. How no one asked about his nightmares.
After breakfast, the others left for training grounds or private tutoring.
Li Chen was left behind.
A servant approached, older, with tired eyes.
"Young Master Chen," he said without enthusiasm, "you are assigned to courtyard cleaning today."
Li Chen looked up.
Cleaning.
He nodded once.
The servant handed him a broom and gestured toward the outer yards.
As Li Chen stepped outside, broom in hand, the morning sun warming his face, a strange pressure stirred faintly in his chest.
Not pain.
Not fear.
Something deeper.
Like a locked door being touched for the first time.
He paused.
Frowned.
Then continued sweeping.