In ancient times, countless cultivators roamed the heavens and earth, each proclaiming themselves unrivaled—masters of divine arts, breakers of fate, challengers of the Dao itself.
Yet among them all, only one truly stood above the rest.
Wang Xiehuang. The final king of the Wang Clan.
A being whose cultivation had long surpassed mortal limits, whose name once caused the heavens to tremble and the myriad realms to fall silent. He had attained boundless spiritual enlightenment and stood at the very threshold of Nirvana—one step away from transcending existence itself.
High above the land, within the ancient royal castle, Wang Xiehuang sat cross-legged upon the throne carved from heavenly jade. Time itself seemed hesitant to flow in his presence. His aura was vast yet restrained, like an ocean sealed behind an invisible dam.
Beside him stood his only companion.
Chen Hao.
A fellow Taoist hero, a cultivator renowned across the lands, and—more importantly—the only person Wang Xiehuang had ever considered his equal… and his friend.
Wang Xiehuang slowly opened his eyes, which reflected neither age nor youth, but something far deeper—an eternity of comprehension.
"I have a proposal," he said calmly, his gaze settling upon Chen Hao.
Chen Hao's brows knit together. An inexplicable unease crept into his chest.
"Master… what do you mean?"
For a brief moment, the great hall fell silent. Even the spiritual veins embedded within the castle walls seemed to dim.
Wang Xiehuang rose from the throne and turned toward the open sky beyond the palace gates. His voice, when he spoke again, carried a weight that pressed upon the soul.
"…Because of me, the balance between heaven and earth has been broken."
Chen Hao's heart skipped a beat.
His master— a Celestial Venerable revered by all realms—was uttering such words?
Before Chen Hao could respond, Wang Xiehuang continued, his tone steady yet grave.
"You are correct to feel it. Time is running out."
He closed his eyes. "The life force of the earth is rapidly fading. The spiritual arteries of the world are collapsing under my existence. If nothing is done…"
He paused.
"…This world will perish within two days."
The words struck Chen Hao like thunder.
"Master!" Chen Hao stepped forward. "There must be another way. You've overcome countless calamities—this too—"
"There is only one solution," Wang Xiehuang interrupted gently. He turned back, his eyes serene. "I must reincarnate."
Chen Hao froze.
"To restore balance," Wang Xiehuang continued, "my current existence must end."
Chen Hao's lips trembled. "End…?"
Wang Xiehuang met his gaze directly.
"You must kill me."
The world seemed to shatter.
"K–Kill… you?" Chen Hao stammered, his grip tightening unconsciously around the hilt of his sword. "Master… that's impossible. I could never—"
"It is possible," Wang Xiehuang said softly, stepping closer.
He placed a firm yet comforting hand on Chen Hao's shoulder. "Ordinary attacks cannot harm me. But if I pour every remaining fragment of my spiritual essence into your sword… it will be able to pierce my body."
Chen Hao's vision blurred. Tears welled up, threatening to fall.
"You're asking me to… end you with my own hands?"
Wang Xiehuang smiled faintly. Not the smile of a king or a god—but that of a man at peace.
"This is my choice," he said. "And you are the only one I trust to carry it out."
Chen Hao clenched his teeth, his entire body trembling.
"If this is truly your will…" he whispered, voice breaking, "then… I will fulfill it."
Wang Xiehuang nodded.
In the next instant, the heavens roared.
A massive vortex of spiritual energy erupted from Wang Xiehuang's body, surging toward Chen Hao's sword. The blade trembled violently as immeasurable power poured into it, radiating an eerie, ethereal glow that distorted the surrounding space.
The air screamed.
The Dao itself recoiled.
Chen Hao raised the sword with shaking hands.
"Master…" he choked. "Are you ready?"
Wang Xiehuang closed his eyes.
"Strike."
With a cry torn from his soul, Chen Hao swung.
The sword pierced Wang Xiehuang's chest.
A crimson bloom spread as blood flowed, yet Wang Xiehuang did not scream. He did not resist. Instead, he smiled—calm, satisfied, unburdened.
Chen Hao collapsed to his knees, staring at the man he had just slain.
The only person he had ever called a friend.
Wang Xiehuang leaned closer, his voice fading like an echo across time.
"I promise…" he whispered, "we will meet again… in the future."
Then... everything ended.
That year was 23 AD.
And thus began the legend that would one day shake all realms once more.
...
Millennia later, the world had transformed. People lived ordinary, contented lives, completely unaware of the ancient cataclysm that had once threatened Earth.
In an apartment on the outskirts of Feilong City, Lin Hua and Ling Wei gently rocked their baby.
"Look at him! Only four months old and already so... extraordinary," Lin Hua murmured. "I used to think marriage would be exhausting."
Ling Wei chuckled softly. "It is, but I'm grateful to have married someone as beautiful as you."
The baby, Ling Xian, opened his eyes—his violet irises gleaming brilliantly.
Today was his birthday.
Ling Wei grinned, revealing a sword. "I have a special gift for you—a limited-edition Dragon Sword!"
"Really?" Lin Hua's eyes widened.
"I spent all year saving up for it, but it's all for our little Ling!"
Ling Xian sensed something amiss. His violet eyes flickered—he perceived the truth. The sword... was a fake!
Ignoring his parents' pride, he raised a tiny hand and lightly tapped the blade. The sword shattered into countless fragments with a deafening crash.
"I don't like it, Papa," he said in a clear, crisp voice.
Lin Hua and Ling Wei froze. "He... he spoke?"
Ling Wei's pride in acquiring the sword crumbled instantly. "My... my hard-earned treasure!"
Lin Hua comforted him, patting his back. "Don't worry, I'm sure we can compensate right?"
At just four months old, Ling Xian's spiritual power was already astonishing. Born with memories and power from his previous life, he learned spells and cultivation techniques at an astonishing rate. By age six, his mastery far surpassed that of ordinary people.
At an average, his cultivation realm was soaring as he grew. He was considered as abnormal by his parents, who were surprised that their son possessed such power at a young age.
Flying on swords at just age four...
Able to manipulate elements...
Telekenisis, Astral Projection and much more...
This child was surprising them every bit of the damn way!
To live a relatively normal life, Ling Xian used the Double-Headed Seal to suppress most of his power.
...
Years flowed by. At sixteen, Ling Xian gained admission to the prestigious Phoenix Ridge Daoist High School's Seventy-Second Academy—a centuries-old institution renowned worldwide for its profound Daoist techniques.
On his first day, he surveyed the sprawling campus. Array formations shimmered in the sunlight, and a colossal statue of a legendary Daoist master stood at its center.
Students bustled about, preparing for their entrance interviews. Ling Xian scanned the holographic bulletin board: Five-Tiered Class Division—Commoner Class, Apprentice Class, Proficient Class, Prodigy Class (the highest tier).
As he pondered his class placement, a voice called out from behind.
"Hey! I'm lost... I can't find the interview room."
Turning, he saw a girl in a pink blouse, black miniskirt, and knee-high socks, her poise as elegant as a model's.
"..." He had never had a girl talk to him this openly before, so he didn't know what to do!
She looked at the bulletin board and found her class. "Oh! Room 2001! Wait... we have the same interview location!" she exclaimed.
"Want to go together?" she asked.
Ling Xian remained silent, but his steps kept pace with hers.
Unbeknownst to the modern world, a king had been reborn among them.
...