The sun had barely risen when Fang Yuan stepped beyond the edge of the village.
A low fog clung to the ground, veiling the dirt paths and patches of forest
that surrounded the settlement like a fortress of wilderness. No one paid him
much attention. To them, he was just another lucky guy—pulled from a collapsed
caravan, barely breathing, a miracle at best, a burden at worst.
But insidChaptere, Fang Yuan knew something was wrong. Terribly
wrong.
He had memories—real memories—of a world with glowing screens, metal towers,
and the endless noise of modern life. He knew of cellphones, fast food, global
warming, and... anime.
Especially one.
"Avatar…" he muttered under his breath as he trudged through the undergrowth.
"No. This isn't just some dream."
He looked up at the sky, searching for something—anything—that would make this
feel fake. But the warmth on his skin, the smell of dew and earth, the
sharpness of every sound—it was too real.
He stopped at a small stream, crouching beside it and staring into the
water.
A face familiar from his memory
Fang yuan
That was his name.
But this face… this body… it's younger, stronger. His reflection blinked back
at him, eyes narrowed in confusion and rising anxiety. He splashed water on his
face, hoping the shock would wake him up, but the cold only confirmed the
truth.
This was no hallucination.
"Okay… think," he whispered, sitting on a nearby rock.
"Reincarnated? Maybe. Sent here? Somehow. Why?
No clue."
It wasn't that he was unfamiliar with the concept. He'd read enough fanfics and
manhua to know the usual clichés. But now that he was living one?
"I didn't even get to spin a damn wheel…" he grumbled, rubbing his temples.
"What kind of truck-kun scam is this?"
As if in response to his sarcasm, the earth beneath him
shifted.
Just slightly.
A faint tremor, no louder than a whisper—but it was enough.
He froze.
Slowly, he stood, scanning the area. Nothing moved. No animals. No wind. But
the stone beneath his feet still vibrated ever so softly, like it was…
listening.
"…No way," he whispered.
He dropped into a crouch and pressed both palms to the ground. He wasn't sure
what he expected—maybe nothing. But the moment his skin touched the dirt,
something stirred again. A pulse. A deep, ancient thrum.
And then the stone beneath his palms cracked.
"Shit!" he yanked his hands away, stumbling back.
The rock split in a neat, straight line—like a blade had slashed through it. No
noise. No warning. Just a clean fracture in solid earth.
Fang Yuan's breath caught in his throat.
"That… that was real."
He stared at his hands. They weren't glowing. No tattoos. No staff or scroll or
ancient mentor whispering riddles. Just him. Alone. In a forest. Cracking rocks
like some freak accident.
"No way I'm the Avatar," he muttered. "No past lives whispering in my ear, no
Sky Bison waiting for me."
And yet… he'd felt something. Something old. Heavy. Rooted.
"Earth," he whispered. "That was Earthbending."
The moment the word left his lips, the realization hit like a thunderclap.
He could bend.
He could bend.
"Wait… does that mean…?"
His heart pounded as he moved toward the stream again. Water. That was always
the second step in these stories, wasn't it? Fire was dangerous, air too
unstable. But water… water was the test.
He knelt at the stream, staring at the rippling surface. Slowly, he raised his
hand, fingers splayed, concentrating. He'd seen the motions a hundred times. He
remembered Katara's graceful sweeps, the subtle flow.
But nothing happened
He tried again. Slower. Focused. Nothing.
Just the water, undisturbed.
He exhaled slowly. "Not yet," he said to himself. "Maybe… it's like a muscle.
One step at a time."
He stood and wiped his hands on his shirt. The ground still pulsed beneath him
faintly, like it hadn't yet decided whether to obey him again.
"I don't know how I got here," he said aloud, as if the forest were listening,
"but if I can Earthbend… and I remember this world… then maybe I can figure out
the rest."
He looked to the sky again, this time not searching for escape—but
direction.
"I'm not the Avatar. But maybe I'm something else."
Behind him, unnoticed, a squirrel-like spirit watched from the trees. Its body
shimmered with ethereal light, eyes wide with fear.
It darted back into the forest—vanishing into the Spirit World to deliver a
message.
He has awakened.
The one who remembers.
The one who bends without balance.
Back at the village, the earth quivered once more. Subtle. Harmless. But to the
old, toothless woman watching the horizon from her porch, it was a
sign.
She whispered through cracked lips, "He's here."