CHAPTER 2
A soft, strange song filled the air.
It was not the familiar chirping of known birds, but a harmonious melody, almost ritualistic, as if several different voices were intertwining according to an invisible law. Each note fit perfectly with the next, resonating among the trees before fading into the distance.
Somewhere within an immense forest.
The trees were colossal, as tall as skyscrapers, their thick, ancient trunks covered in glowing moss. Their canopies rose so high that only faint shafts of light could pass through, forming a natural ceiling pierced by golden beams. The surroundings looked as though they had been pulled straight from a fantasy tale: roots twisted like sleeping serpents, flowers of impossible colors, and dense air brimming with life.
Upon the damp earth, amid giant leaves and soft grass, lay a small body.
Motionless.
As though sunk into a deep sleep.
The constant sound of insects—a rhythmic, almost soothing hum—accompanied the birdsong. Then, slowly, the child opened his eyes.
They were golden.
Not a simple shade, but a deep, radiant gold, almost sacred, as if they reflected more than just the light of the surroundings. For a brief moment, his gaze was vacant, unfocused, fixed on the sky hidden behind massive branches.
Then, clumsily, he sat up.
First he lifted his head, breathing deeply, as though the air itself felt new to him. Then, frowning, he looked around. The colossal trees, the endless forest, the unfamiliar sounds—none of it made sense.
Jin.
Or at least, the consciousness that had once been Jin Yuchen.
He should have been afraid. Panic would have been the natural response to such an absurd, impossible scene. Yet what he felt instead was different.
Curiosity.
And confusion.
A deep confusion, mixed with a strange calm. As he remained seated on the unfamiliar ground, those golden eyes reflecting an unknown world, a silent certainty began to take shape within him.
None of this was a dream.
Jin placed his hands on the ground and stood up awkwardly.
That was when he noticed it.
His point of view was lower. Much lower. He looked down at his hands—thin, small, with slender fingers bearing no trace of the calluses or hardness forged by years of training. His body was different… far too different.
Smaller.
The muscles that had taken him years to build were completely gone. In their place was a lean, light body, bordering on frail. There was no contained strength, no familiar tension beneath the skin. Only a strange lightness, foreign to him, as if this body had yet to learn what effort truly meant.
Jin frowned.
Once again, he carefully examined his surroundings: the impossible forest, the giant trees, the air filled with an energy he could not describe, yet could clearly feel was different from that of Earth.
Then, he remembered.
Or at least, he tried to.
He had been in a park. Training. Then… a roar. The sky tearing apart. A blinding light that completely engulfed him.
After that, nothing.
The sequence of events aligned with unsettling clarity. Jin looked around once more, and at that moment, his golden eyes flared with intensity. The assumption that had been floating in his mind ceased to be an absurd thought and became absolute certainty.
His lips curved upward.
A shameless smile, filled with disbelief and excitement, spread across his face. He raised both arms toward the sky without the slightest restraint, completely ignoring how strange he must have looked in the middle of that colossal forest.
"Hell yes!" he shouted with all his soul. "I don't know what killed me, but I reincarnated!"
His voice echoed among the giant trees, startling several strange birds that took flight as the harmonious song broke for an instant.
Jin laughed.
For the first time in a long while, his chest filled with a pure emotion, free of doubt or emptiness. The world had changed—and this time, perhaps, fate would not have the final say.
The murmur of flowing water broke the forest's stillness.
Near a river of crystal-clear current, among moss-covered stones and exposed roots, lay another small body. Unlike the previous awakening, there was no gasp, no labored breathing. The child opened his eyes slowly, as though returning from a deep, familiar dream.
His eyes were black.
But not ordinary black.
They were so deep it seemed impossible to see a bottom, as though two small black holes had opened upon his face, capable of swallowing light itself. For several seconds, he remained motionless, gazing at the sky filtered through massive leaves.
Too calm.
Aside from a slight frown, he showed no surprise, fear, or confusion. Only a silent, cold evaluation—utterly inappropriate for someone who had just awakened in an unfamiliar place.
He slowly sat up.
As he did, a sense of discomfort passed through his body. Something was wrong. His movements did not respond as expected; there was a slight delay between intent and action. He frowned more deeply and, after gathering some strength, managed to stand.
The body… was different.
Smaller. Lighter. His skin was pale, almost unnaturally white, as if it had never been touched by the sun. He lowered his gaze, examining himself carefully, without visible emotion, as though inspecting a foreign object.
Then he looked up.
The river, the colossal forest, the strange sounds. Everything was calmly recorded. He took a few steps toward the water and leaned slightly forward, observing his reflection upon the tranquil surface.
The face that looked back at him did not belong to him.
It was beautiful.
Not in a delicate or gentle way, but with an unsettling perfection, as if every feature had been sculpted with absolute intent. Sharp cheekbones, harmonious features, a symmetry bordering on the unreal.
If he had to describe it, it was like gazing upon a face carved by the hands of a god.
Even if the thought sounded vain.
The dark-eyed child showed neither pride nor rejection. Only silent acceptance. The reflection blinked when he did, and the river continued its flow, indifferent.
The boy with the dark eyes remained still by the river for a few moments longer.
Wei Han.
The name surfaced naturally in his mind, without resistance, as though it had never stopped belonging to him. His abyssal gaze drifted from the reflection and sank into the distance as he began to coldly analyze what had happened.
He had been practicing with his sword.
The memory was clear. The martial arts hall, moonlight filtering through the windows, the silence… and then the roar. A sound that did not belong to Earth, powerful enough to force him to look up at the sky.
Then came the light.
A blinding flash that swallowed everything.
And after that… nothing.
There had been no sensation of falling, no pain, no darkness. Just an abrupt cut in the continuity of his existence. His thoughts began to wander, seeking logic, a rational explanation, when suddenly—
"Hell yes!"
A voice shattered the forest's stillness.
It was a shout brimming with pure emotion—youthful, vibrant. It sounded like the voice of a fourteen-year-old boy, overflowing with enthusiasm, utterly out of place in such an ancient, solemn environment.
Wei Han raised an eyebrow.
Confusion barely surfaced on his face—a minimal yet telling gesture. He turned his head, locating the source of the sound. That voice did not belong in the forest's deep silence nor in the gravity of the situation.
But perhaps…
It could be an answer.
Without wasting time, Wei Han took a step forward, then another, advancing cautiously yet without hesitation, following the voice that still echoed among the colossal trees. His movements were calm and controlled, as though even in this new body, his mind had not forgotten the discipline forged over years.
If that shout came from someone like him…
Then it was worth finding out.
Wei Han moved through the giant trees for several more steps.
The voice guided him easily. It made no attempt to hide—on the contrary, it rang openly and shamelessly, as though its owner had no concern whatsoever about drawing attention. Crossing a forest clearing, Wei Han finally reached the source of the sound.
And there he saw him.
A boy around fourteen years old, roughly his own height, stood in the middle of the clearing with his arms still raised toward the sky, as if celebrating an invisible victory. His hair was long, falling in soft strands that blended brilliant gold with black streaks, creating a contrast as striking as it was unnatural. Under the filtered light of the canopy, he looked almost unreal.
His eyes…
They were golden.
Hypnotic, alive, filled with an energy difficult to describe, as if a spark burned within them, refusing to go out. Wei Han came to an abrupt stop.
He had thought the face he saw reflected in the river was perfect.
But the boy before him was equal… or perhaps even more beautiful.
For the first time since his awakening, Wei Han was truly surprised. His eyes widened slightly, and without realizing it, he let out a faint—
"Oh…"
The sound was low, almost imperceptible.
At that same instant, Jin heard a noise coming from ahead. His arms dropped quickly, and he shifted his gaze, alert. His golden eyes fixed on the figure that had appeared among the trees.
A boy.
Standing before him, motionless, watching him with an intensity difficult to decipher. His presence was silent, strangely calm, in stark contrast to the excitement still coursing through Jin's body.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.
Two gazes met in the middle of the immense forest.
The wind gently stirred the leaves, the birds fell silent, and the world seemed to hold its breath—as though that encounter marked the beginning of something not yet meant to be understood.
The silence was broken first by Wei Han.
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" he asked calmly, though his gaze remained alert. "And do you know what part of China we're in?"
As soon as he finished speaking, Jin stared at him… then rolled his eyes dramatically.
In that instant, an idea struck him like lightning.
His golden eyes widened, and his expression changed completely. Surprise gave way to uncontainable excitement, and without warning, he pointed at Wei Han with a trembling finger.
"Don't tell me you reincarnated too!" he exclaimed. "Because otherwise, how could you ask something like that?! We're definitely two people who reincarnated!"
And before Wei Han could respond, Jin burst out laughing.
A loud, open, almost uncontrolled laugh echoed among the giant trees, as though he had completely lost any sense of caution. He clutched his abdomen and bent slightly as the laughter continued, laden with disbelief and euphoria.
Wei Han frowned.
He studied the boy before him carefully, evaluating him as though he were a strange opponent. His expression became visibly confused, and a clear, straightforward thought arose in his mind:
I've run into a lunatic.
Jin's laughter gradually died down as he noticed that look. Little by little, he regained his composure. He cleared his throat and coughed lightly, averting his gaze for a second to hide the awkwardness.
"Ahem…" he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. "Yeah… put like that, it does sound a bit weird."
Jin cleared his throat again, trying to straighten his posture and adopt a more serious tone.
"Alright…" he began, crossing his arms. "Listen, this is just a theory, okay? But from what I can tell, we're not on Earth anymore. We're not in China, or anywhere I recognize. So the most logical explanation is that we're… in another world."
He made a broad gesture with his hand, indicating the impossible forest around them—the giant trees and the strange air that seemed to vibrate differently.
Wei Han watched him in silence.
His expression was completely neutral. No surprise, no understanding, no rejection. Just… emptiness. As though Jin's words passed before him without truly connecting.
Jin let out a long sigh.
"Seriously…" he muttered to himself. "How can there be someone who's never read a single transmigration or reincarnation novel?"
Wei Han, of course, understood none of that. He had no idea what a "transmigration novel" was, nor why Jin seemed so confident about something so absurd. Still, after a few seconds of reflection, he slowly nodded.
"I see," he said calmly.
Though in truth, he saw nothing at all.
Then he stepped forward and extended his hand naturally, as though this impossible situation were nothing more than a casual meeting.
"My name is Wei Han."
Jin blinked a couple of times, surprised by the gesture, then smiled. He extended his arm and firmly shook Wei's hand.
"I'm Jin Yuchen. Nice to meet you."
Immediately after, he couldn't help but let out a loud, enthusiastic laugh that once again echoed through the forest clearing.
The encounter was undeniably strange.
Jin's laughter stopped abruptly.
A strange sound echoed nearby.
It wasn't the normal crack of branches or birdsong. It was a dry, rhythmic scraping, accompanied by an unsettling click, as if something hard were sliding between leaves and trunks. Both turned their heads at the same time, following the source of the noise.
Then they saw it.
An insect.
A mantis… but not just any mantis.
Its body was elongated and covered in a dark green carapace that reflected light unnaturally. Its front legs, sharp as curved blades, moved with calculated slowness. It was enormous—nearly the size of a large dog—and its compound eyes gleamed with a coldness that did not belong to a simple creature.
Jin's mouth fell open.
His brain had yet to process what the hell he was seeing when the mantis suddenly lunged forward, launching itself at them with brutal speed.
"RUN!!" Jin screamed in panic.
He spun around instantly—only to find that Wei Han was already several meters ahead, running without looking back, with terrifyingly practical efficiency.
"WHAT—?!" Jin's eyes widened. "YOU BASTARD, DON'T LEAVE ME BEHIND!!"
Without wasting another second, Jin bolted after him, heart pounding in his chest, legs burning. Behind them, the sound of the insect's legs striking the ground chased them for what felt like an eternity.
They ran.
Through trees, roots, slopes.
They didn't know how much time passed or how far they went—only that at some point, the forest opened up… and the ground beneath their feet changed.
When it was finally over, both lay flat on their backs in a wide meadow, the sky stretching infinitely above them.
Jin was gasping as if he were about to die.
"Hah… hah…" he clutched his chest. "You're… you're a bastard…!"
He turned his head with difficulty to look at Wei Han.
"You abandoned me!" he accused between breaths. "You ran off without warning!"
Wei Han, also breathing heavily but far more composed, turned his head slightly.
"You said we should run," he replied calmly.
Jin fell silent for a few seconds.
Then he closed his eyes, let his head fall back into the grass, and let out an exhausted laugh.
"…This world is insane."
After resting enough, both stood up.
First, they silently looked back toward the forest they had escaped from. From the meadow, that sea of giant trees looked even more imposing, as if hiding countless dangers within its shadows. Then they turned their attention to their current surroundings.
The meadow stretched wide and peaceful, covered in grass that swayed gently in the wind. The sun was at its peak, shining high in the sky and bathing everything in clear, warm light—so different from the unsettling nocturnal glow of the forest.
In the distance, they could see a dirt road.
It cut across the meadow, dividing it in two—a clear line that seemed to promise direction… and perhaps answers.
"We should head for the road," Jin said, breaking the silence. "If there are roads, then there have to be people. Or at least some kind of civilization."
Wei Han observed the path for a few seconds longer, then nodded calmly.
Without another word, the two began to walk.
The distance was short. Once they reached the dirt road, they stopped and looked both ways. To the right, the road disappeared into gentle hills. To the left, it sloped slightly downward toward what appeared to be a lower part of the meadow.
"Right or left…?" Jin murmured, scratching his head.
Before they could decide, a sound made them turn.
Crrr… clac… crac…
The rhythmic noise of wooden wheels rolling over dirt caught their attention. Following the sound, they saw an old carriage approaching in the distance. It was simple, worn by time, pulled by a creature similar to an ox, but with a more robust body and slightly backward-curving horns.
An old man held the reins.
He wore modest, simple clothes, clearly used for many years. His back was slightly hunched, and the carriage appeared to be carrying bundles of straw or hay tied with rope.
As the old man drew closer and made out the two youths standing in the middle of the road, his eyes widened in surprise.
He pulled sharply on the reins.
The carriage came to an abrupt halt, kicking up a bit of dust, as the old man stared at Jin and Wei as though he had just seen something unbelievable.
The old man kept his gaze fixed on the two boys for several seconds.
Jin and Wei paid no attention to the clothes they were wearing. To them, they were simply plain robes—strange but comfortable—something they had accepted as a natural part of this world. To the old man's eyes, however, it was a very different story.
The robes looked ordinary, yes… but paired with those faces.
Too perfect. Too clean. Too out of place.
And that wasn't all.
There was something else—a vague yet unsettling sensation the old man couldn't put into words. A subtle, indistinct aura surrounding both boys. It wasn't oppressive or aggressive, but it was different enough to make his skin prickle.
His heart skipped a beat.
Young… masters?
No.
Disciples of a cultivation clan? Or members of a great family?
The longer he observed them, the more convinced he became. Without wasting time, the old man climbed down from the carriage with surprising speed for his age. He adjusted his clothes, bent his back slightly, and clasped his hands in a deeply respectful salute.
"This old man has encountered the two young masters," he said humbly. "I hope I have not disturbed you by passing through here. If I have committed any offense, I beg the young masters to be lenient."
His words struck like lightning.
Jin and Wei froze completely.
They glanced at each other for a brief moment, then turned back to the old man, stunned. Neither of them knew what to say, nor how to react to such a sudden display of respect.
Silence spread across the dirt road.
Only the ox snorted softly, and the carriage creaked beneath the weight of the hay, while the two "young masters" stood there, having no idea how they had come to occupy such a position.