"Ahhhh."
The sound tore from Shen Wu's throat like a drowning man breaking the surface.
His heart pounded. His breath came in ragged gasps.
He blinked rapidly, struggling to make sense of where he was.
The last thing he remembered was sinking beneath the water, pain blooming in his chest, and the voice that had spat his worthlessness like a curse.
Now—
Now he was sitting up in a dim space.
It was quite large.
The shape of the wood around him was familiar.
A carriage?
Shen Wu sat in stunned silence, his eyes adjusting to the darkness.
There was no light, but through the narrow exit flap of the carriage robe, he could see the faintest glimmer of night outside.
It was dark. Not just inside—outside.
Where… am I?
Instinctively, Shen Wu turned his gaze downward. His breath caught again.
His hands—
They weren't his hands.
They were thin. Pale. Unscarred.
Not the hardened, muscle-bound tools that had wielded blades and callused over years of training.
These were the hands of a child.
His stomach dropped. A chill ran down his spine.
Before Shen Wu could process it further, the carriage robes opened.
Light flooded in for the briefest second.
A silhouette stepped inside.
It was a girl.
She was young. Looked no older than fourteen.
But she was dressed in dirty clothes. The kind farmers wore.
Her eyes immediately landed on Shen Wu the moment she entered the carriage.
And for a moment—his mind blanked.
Lin Qi.
That name exploded in his head like thunder.
Lin Qi, the village chief's daughter who acted overly responsible for everyone.
Lin Qi, who died for him five years ago, stabbed through her chest during the sect trials.
She shouldn't be here.
She couldn't be here.
His mouth went dry.
"You're awake," she said, relief softening her voice. "We were worried. You suddenly passed out."
Passed out?
Shen Wu's thoughts spun.
Wait. Lin Qi. These hands…
Five years.
That was when it happened. When the evil sect descended on their village like wolves.
They killed anyone older than sixteen, burned the rest, and took only those who looked young enough to be useful.
That night, everything changed.
That was the night they were taken.
His eyes widened as the pieces slammed into place.
This is that night.
This body. This setting. This moment—
Shen Wu had gone back five years.
He was back in the same weak shell he had long since left behind.
And Lin Qi…
She wasn't dead.
Not yet.
"Shen Wu," Lin Qi said gently, stepping closer.
His heart skipped a beat when he heard his name. It sounded too real.
"You don't have to worry," she said, kneeling in front of him. Her voice was calm, almost soothing. "I know the village is gone, but we're still together. You, me, the others... as long as we stay together, we'll be fine."
She smiled—tired, but genuine.
Shen Wu stared at her.
Together?
Fine?
The words rang hollow in his ears.
A bitter scoff slipped from his throat before he could stop it. He lowered his gaze to his hands, gripping them tightly until his knuckles went white.
Weren't these the same people who turned on each other the moment opportunity came?
Who sold out others to survive another trial, another test, another day?
Sunshine? No.
The moment they stepped into the martial world, the light vanished.
What replaced it was cold steel, silent betrayals, and the scent of blood that never truly washed off.
But Lin Qi didn't know that. Not yet.
And Shen Wu… he didn't say it.
He was still reeling. His mind spinning, trying to come to terms with everything. His body was young again, weak.
His heart, though steady, beat as though unsure if it still belonged to the same man.
She must've seen the daze in his eyes.
"I understand," she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Take your time. You're still recovering. We all are."
Then she stood.
Her eyes glanced toward the flap of the carriage robe.
"It looks like they'll start moving again soon," she added. "Rest while you can."
With that, she turned and stepped back into the night, letting the robe fall closed behind her.
And Shen Wu was alone again.
He sat there in silence.
The wooden walls of the carriage creaked softly around him. Everything felt too real to be a dream.
He looked back down at his hands.
Thin. Weak. Fragile.
This doesn't make sense.
How… how did I come back?
He clenched his fists and stared blankly at the floor, his thoughts spiraling into chaos. There was only one word that kept echoing in his mind.
Regression.
Shen Wu took a shaky breath and let it out slowly.
"...Is this my golden finger?"
The words slipped from his lips before he even realized he'd spoken them aloud.
It sounded ridiculous. Delusional, even.
But then again—wasn't he always supposed to have one?
Shen Wu wasn't from this world. Not originally.
Before all of this—before swords and sects and blood-soaked trials—he had been a student on Earth. A regular nobody. Just a normal guy caught in a freak accident.
A sky drive experiment gone wrong.
He remembered it now—a white flash, weightlessness, then silence. The next thing he knew, he'd woken up in this world. Not as a hero, not as a chosen one—just a baby. A baby with no special lineage, no system pop-up, no mythical bloodline waiting to awaken.
Year after year, Shen Wu waited for something to happen.
For a cheat. A skill. A moment.
Something.
But all he got was mediocrity. Average martial potential. Average body. No legendary physique. No ancient bones that glowed with secrets.
Just him.
Just… Shen Wu.
Until now.
Now, after death, he had come back.
What if that was his ability all along?
What if his golden finger… was to return by death?
However.
A cold shiver ran through his spine.
Even if that was the case… was it a one-time thing?
Or could it happen again?
And if so—how many times?
But that wasn't even the terrifying part.
If this really was his ability—
Then based on what just happened…
He had to die first.