DS 01

Chapter – 01

Baiyun  Temple

“Li Yu, wake up…”
“Li Yu, Li Yu…”
…

A hollow, ethereal voice seemed to come from the void, echoing incessantly by his ear. Li Yu’s eyelids felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, impossible to open, yet the voice lingered vividly beside him.

Wait—if he were dead, how could he hear anything?
Could it be that he was still alive?

The thought surfaced in Li Yu’s mind, but he quickly dismissed it.

Impossible.

He was a master of firearms, and that bullet had pierced clean through his heart. There was no chance of survival—modern medicine couldn’t fix that.

But death didn’t frighten him much.

He’d been in the late stages of cancer anyway, with little time left.

After graduating from the police academy, he’d volunteered to go undercover in a major crime syndicate for five years. With his exceptional ability, he’d earned the trust of the organization’s leader, rising from an outsider to the number-two position.

With Li Yu’s cooperation, the military had eventually dismantled the country’s largest criminal network in one sweeping operation.

But Li Yu hadn’t felt much joy at the mission’s completion.

The number-two spot hadn’t come easily. Over five years undercover, he’d done many things he shouldn’t have, all for the sake of the final objective. So much so that, many times, he couldn’t even tell whether he was a good man or a bad one.

Later, when he was diagnosed with terminal cancer, he kept undergoing treatment. But from then on, he always threw himself into the most dangerous missions. During the capture of an armed fugitive, he’d used himself as bait to save a hostage, taking a bullet to the chest and dying a hero’s death…

That was one set of memories in his mind. Another set told him he was a disciple of Baiyun Temple in the state of Chen, a cultivator who’d joined two years ago and still hadn’t succeeded in gathering qi. He’d been meditating in bed yesterday when he woke up to find himself in this state…

Two completely different streams of memory twisted and clashed in his head. Overwhelmed by a surge of complex emotions, Li Yu felt his skull splitting with pain, and a tear slipped unbidden from the corner of his eye.

Before he could recollect more, someone shook his body. A young voice said by his ear: “Hey, come on, don’t cry over a failed qi-gathering attempt. If you can’t make it to Kunlun, just come down the mountain with me. Once my old man kicks the bucket and I inherit the throne, I’ll make you a prince—you’ll have wealth and glory for life, and live free and easy…”

The voice was too clamorous, grating on his nerves. With difficulty, Li Yu forced his eyes open.

What met his gaze was a young face.

The youth was dressed in ancient robes, with sharp brows and starry eyes, handsome and spirited, a trace of heroic brightness between his brows. But Li Yu didn’t recognize him, which left him disoriented.

As the young man rambled on, memories that weren’t his own suddenly flooded Li Yu’s mind.

*Refining Qi, building Foundations, forming Golden Cores and Nascent Souls… Kunlun, Shushan, Emei, Qingcheng, breaking the Void, Harmonizing with the Way, crossing tribulation and ascending to immortality…*

An immense, unfamiliar torrent of information exploded in his skull. Li Yu felt his head buzz, his vision went black, and he lost consciousness once more…

…

Three days later.

State of Chen, Baiyun Temple.

Morning breeze brushed gently; the first rays of dawn were soft.

Wisps of incense smoke rose within the temple. As the state temple of Chen, Baiyun Temple always enjoyed bustling pilgrim traffic. No sooner had the sun risen than early-rising locals came to offer incense and pray.

Li Yu leaned against a cypress tree behind the temple, staring blankly at the rising sun.

For three days, he’d been wrestling with one question:

Was he dead or not?

After long thought, he reached an answer:

He was dead, but not completely.

The undercover agent Li Yu from the other world had died, but his soul had possessed the body of another person in this world. Both men were named Li Yu, and they looked identical—down to a faint birthmark on his chest. Even the measurements were familiarly his…

Apart from the fact that this world’s Li Yu had longer hair, the two were nearly indistinguishable in appearance.

But that was only skin-deep.

Li Yu reached out, drawing some mysterious force from the void. In the next moment, a spark of flame flickered above his palm, quickly condensing into a fireball. As it appeared, the grass beneath him slowly withered.

Staring at the fireball in his hand, Li Yu’s emotions churned.

It was just a minor fireball spell, but it was real sorcery—something he’d only ever seen as special effects in movies and TV shows in his past life.

Over these three days, Li Yu had absorbed a fair amount of memory. He had come to realize this was a world utterly different from his own—no cars, no airplanes, no rockets or spaceships. Yet it possessed a mystical power that science could not explain.

With such power, calling wind and rain, ascending to the heavens, entering the earth, moving mountains and filling seas—these weren’t mere fantasies; they could truly be achieved. Moreover, the original owner of this body had been a cultivator, though his cultivation was pitifully low—barely initiated into the path.

Fragments of memory told him that three days ago, the original Li Yu had forcibly attempted to break through a bottleneck and failed, perishing on the spot. At the same moment, the other world’s Li Yu had died and his soul somehow drifted into this body.

There were too many foreign memories; fully digesting them would take considerable time. Over the past three days, Li Yu had merged only a portion, including this minor spell that conjured a fireball from thin air.

He tossed the little fireball from one hand to the other, amusing himself without end.

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As time passed, the fireball shrank rapidly, flickered stubbornly a few times, and then died out completely.

At the same time, Li Yu felt drained, slumping weakly against the tree behind him.

This body’s strength was truly pathetic—even the lowest-level fireball spell could exhaust it in just moments. Yet in Li Yu’s memories, top-tier experts could turn an entire city into a sea of flames with a single gesture.

“Li Yu, what are you doing here? I’ve been looking for you everywhere…”

A familiar voice came from behind. A young man strode over quickly, handed Li Yu a steaming bun, and casually sat down beside him. He threw an arm around Li Yu’s shoulder and said, “Don’t take it too hard. Over ninety percent of cultivators never even build their Foundation in a lifetime. Living as an ordinary mortal can be plenty joyful. Just wait until I inherit my father’s throne—I’ll make you a prince, no problem…”

The young man beside him was Jiang Li, his best friend at Baiyun Temple. Among the temple’s hundred-plus disciples, only Jiang Li was closest to him. Jiang Li was the crown prince of some minor kingdom—sounded impressive, but in Baiyun Temple, there were at least eight or ten such minor princes.

The place they were in was territory of the Daoist sects. All the kingdoms here, big or small, depended on the major sects for their survival.

Li Yu and Jiang Li got along so well for two reasons: first, they were both quite handsome; second, they were both pretty lousy at cultivation.

They’d practiced at Baiyun Temple for over a year. Among the nearly one hundred disciples, some had already succeeded in condensing qi; Li Yu and Jiang Li were still in the stage of drawing qi into their bodies.

If they couldn’t succeed in condensing qi within the next three months, they would have to leave Baiyun Temple and fend for themselves.

Jiang Li could at least go back to inherit a throne; Li Yu would have no choice but to become a rogue cultivator. Without a sect’s support, a rogue’s prospects were extremely limited—he might stay stuck at the Qi Refining stage for life.

Baiyun Temple was affiliated with Kunlun, one of the Ten Great Daoist Sects of the Eastern Lands. If he could enter Kunlun, at least building a Foundation would be possible, extending his lifespan to over two hundred years.

Jiang Li’s consolation warmed Li Yu, but his dream wasn’t to become some carefree prince.

In his last life, he’d sacrificed himself for a greater cause.

In this life, he wanted to live only for himself.

In such a strange and wondrous world, a true man should roam from the blue seas of dawn to the dark mountains of dusk—soaring through the heavens, slaying demons and monsters—that was every man’s most romantic dream.

Li Yu patted Jiang Li on the shoulder and stood to leave.

Seeing his resolve, Jiang Li sighed softly and said, “Forget it, I won’t try to talk you out of it. I’ll keep the prince’s title for you—you can take it whenever you want…”

As Li Yu’s figure faded into the distance, Jiang Li called after him, “Hey, don’t leave the temple alone these next few days. Elder Sun told me there have been demonic cultivators sighted at the foot of the mountain…”

Li Yu waved a hand behind him to show he’d heard.

His mind continued to piece together the memories of the original Baiyun Temple disciple Li Yu, giving him a basic understanding of the world. Besides the Eastern Daoist sects, there were also the Western Buddhist Kingdoms, the Southern Demon Court, the Northern Demonic Sect, and the Central Imperial Dynasty. It was said that across the vast seas, there were other lands…

Though each major power held its own domain, they weren’t entirely at peace. They frequently clashed over cultivation resources and other interests. The Daoist and Demonic sects each considered themselves the rightful orthodox path and had nursed deep grudges for thousands of years.

But all that had little to do with Li Yu right now.

For him, the most important thing was to successfully condense qi. Only then would he have a chance to be chosen by Kunlun and go further on the path of cultivation.

Back in his quarters, Li Yu took off his shoes, sat cross-legged on the bed, and, following the guidance of the memories in his mind, assumed the five-hearted posture—palms and soles facing upward—to guide the spiritual energy from the surrounding void into his body.

This was the first step of cultivation: drawing qi into the body.

Only when he could gather the spiritual energy from the void into his meridians without it dissipating would he officially enter the Qi Refining stage and truly step onto the immortal path.

But the qi Li Yu drew in would only remain inside him for a short while before fading away.

He tried several more times, all ending in failure.

Li Yu opened his eyes, sighed, and murmured, “If only I had a Qi-Gathering Pill…”

A Qi-Gathering Pill increased one’s chances of successfully condensing qi. But all pills had to be refined from spiritual herbs and were expensive, costing five hundred spirit coins apiece. Li Yu didn’t even have fifty spirit coins on him, so taking such a pill was out of the question.

His memory of the Qi-Gathering Pill was strong because the original owner of this body had always longed desperately for one.

Li Yu wasn’t disheartened. His five years undercover had forged an extremely resilient will—he never gave up easily on anything.

Pushing aside these thoughts, he continued drawing qi, over and over, without complaint.

Time slipped by, and the sky gradually darkened, enshrouding Baiyun Temple in night.

Jiang Li had come twice during this period. Seeing Li Yu cultivating, he didn’t disturb him, left some food, lit the candles in the room, then closed the door and withdrew.

Li Yu remained on the bed with his eyes shut, meditating. At some point, a faint sound came from the door again.

Then a long silence followed.

Sensing something amiss, Li Yu opened his eyes and looked toward the center of the room.

A figure sat at the table, quietly sipping tea.

Li Yu was startled—the visitor was not Jiang Li.

It was a young woman dressed in black, with a slender waist wrapped in a sash. She was extraordinarily beautiful—delicate brows, phoenix eyes, skin as white as snow—but her expression was cold and indifferent. She sat there, gazing blankly at Li Yu.