The light of the Source faded behind him as he stepped through the trembling window.
There was no sound, only warmth. Then came the pull—the weight of gravity, the chill of air against skin, the ache of a heart beating for the first time in eternity.
Jac gasped. Breath filled lungs that had not existed moments before. The smell of rain and soil rushed in, raw and wild. For the first time in countless ages, he felt alive.
So this… is life again, he thought, a faint smile touching his lips.
He lay in a shallow crater surrounded by mist and pine. The world was young here—the qi thick, untamed, spilling through the land like rivers of light. Above him, the heavens stretched vast and unscarred, the stars singing with the pulse of creation.
He could feel the Source still, deep inside him—its power endless, obedient, ready to answer his will. But he refused to touch it. He already knew what it could do.
He had come not to command, but to learn.
Before stepping through, he had made a vow:
"If death was never meant to be, then I will make it mean something. I will give the living an end worth fearing… and cherishing."
To do so, he would have to start as one of them—ignorant, fragile, bound by the same rules they could not escape.
With a thought, he wove seals upon his soul. Power folded inward, memory locked behind countless barriers, leaving only a faint echo of purpose—three words scrawled upon a small parchment in his hand:
Reach the Ascendant Stage.
That was all the clue his future self would have.
When the light faded from the seals, he was no longer Jac, last of existence. He was Sel Yun, sixteen years of age, a wanderer with no past and no family. His memories were a handful of fragments: a mother's laugh, a nameless mountain, a warmth he couldn't place.
He felt hunger. He felt cold. He felt human.
Sel Yun looked toward the distant valley, where smoke rose from a village surrounded by terraced fields. Beyond it, the faint banners of a cultivation clan fluttered in the wind.
A clan… he thought. Yes. To live among them, to grow as they do. To understand their dreams and fears.
His path was clear. He would join them, learn their ways, and climb through every trial until the seals of memory shattered on their own.
Only then—when he reached the Ascendant Stage—would Jac awaken once more, and decide whether this world was ready to know what it meant to end.
For now, he was just a boy walking down a mountain, feeling the first sunrise of his second existence warm his face.
And far above, in the unseen folds of the Source Realm, countless windows flickered—watching, waiting, as the Master of Death took his first mortal step.
The wind bit at Sel Yun's cloak as he climbed the winding stone path that led to the Eagle Mountain Clan's outer gates. The walls loomed tall and weatherworn, carved into the cliffs like ancient sentinels. Above them, bronze eagles stretched their wings toward the heavens—symbols of pride, freedom, and unyielding might. Sel Yun paused for a moment at the foot of the grand archway, where lines of hopefuls stretched far down the slope. Some came with family banners fluttering in the breeze, others with nothing but their names and dreams. He was one of the latter.
"Name?" barked the guard, a sharp-eyed cultivator in light armor.
"Sel Yun," he answered evenly, keeping his tone calm but respectful. His voice carried the weight of someone who had wandered far—someone unafraid to be overlooked. The guard's gaze lingered, perhaps noticing the faint pulse of quiet spiritual energy that clung to him, like a hidden ember. Without a word, the guard stamped his token and gestured toward the inner courtyard.
The recruitment elder sat behind a broad stone table, his robes a muted crimson embroidered with eagle feathers. Scrolls and name tokens filled the space before him. His eyes, though half-lidded, were sharp enough to read a person's worth in an instant. "Another drifter from the lowlands?" the elder muttered, taking the token from Sel Yun's hand. He gave a dismissive chuckle. "We get plenty of those. Most don't last past the first trial. You can still turn back."
Sel Yun met the elder's gaze, unflinching. "Then I'll be the one who doesn't leave."
The elder's smirk faded slightly at the confidence in his tone. With a nod, he dipped his brush in ink and wrote Sel Yun's name onto a parchment already covered in dozens of others. "Assessment begins at dawn," he said curtly, handing him a numbered jade slip. "If you truly mean those words, prove them in the arena."
Sel Yun bowed faintly, his expression unreadable as he turned to leave. The sun dipped behind the peaks, casting the mountain gate in shadow—but within that shadow, the faintest glimmer of determination shone in his eyes.
Sel Yun stepped away from the mountain path and found a quiet grove where he could gather his thoughts. With a flick of his wrist, a faint shimmer of light danced across his palm—a silver band glinting in the dying sunlight. His storage ring. It wasn't impressive by noble standards, but it held everything he needed to start anew. Within its inner space were a few folded robes of dark linen, a bundle of hair ties, and a stack of currency notes: one hundred gold, eight hundred silver, and a thousand copper. Nestled beneath them was his true wealth—one hundred thousand spirit stones, each pulsing faintly with raw spiritual essence. To most, it would be an unimaginable fortune. To him, it was merely what he had prepared for the life ahead.
By dusk, Sel Yun arrived in Wesley, a bustling town built at the base of Eagle Mountain. Its streets gleamed with lantern light and chatter, filled with young cultivators, merchants, and scholars hoping to tie themselves to the powerful clan above. The air carried the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiritual incense, a blend of the mundane and mystical. After a few turns through the busy market square, Sel Yun found a narrow stone road leading to the noble district—a quieter place, where wealth whispered rather than shouted.
At a modest but well-kept residence, he met the landlord—a plump man with sharp eyes and an even sharper tongue. "You want to rent here?" the man asked skeptically, glancing over Sel Yun's plain robes. "These rooms are for those of standing, not wandering hopefuls." Sel Yun didn't argue. Instead, he calmly retrieved twenty-four silver notes and placed them on the table. The landlord's eyes widened, his demeanor shifting in an instant. "Ah! My apologies, young master!" he exclaimed, bowing slightly. "You should have said you preferred discretion. The residence will be cleaned and ready tonight." Sel Yun simply nodded, pocketing the keys. As he stepped into his new quarters, the door closing softly behind him, a quiet thought crossed his mind—Let this place be the start of something worth remembering.
Sel Yun sat cross-legged on the wooden floor of his new residence, the evening lantern casting long shadows across the walls. The note he had carried with him rested lightly on the table before him: "Reach Ascendant Stage." He traced the characters with his fingers, the paper smooth beneath his touch, and felt the weight of its purpose pressing lightly on his mind. Around him, the faint shimmer of his storage ring reminded him of the wealth he possessed—coins, spirit stones, and the tools to sustain a life of cultivation—but he sensed there was something more, something hidden beneath even that. Whatever it was, it did not yet reveal itself, and he did not press.
He allowed the question to rest, folding it away into the quiet of meditation. Outside, the wind whispered through the streets of Wesley, carrying the promise of a new day. Sel Yun closed his eyes and drew in the calm, focusing on the faint pulse of spiritual energy beneath the mundane world. Tomorrow, he would step onto the path of cultivation, and the climb through the upper echelons of the cosmic hierarchy would begin. For now, he let the world settle around him, allowing himself a rare moment of stillness before the trials ahead.