Lin Xuanye did not breathe at first.
There was no storm. No collapsing mountain. No suffocating spiritual pressure crushing his bones.
Only a steady mechanical hum.
His fingers twitched.
The sensation was unfamiliar. His body did not feel torn apart. His meridians were not shattered. There was no leakage of spiritual energy.
He felt whole.
Warm.
Alive.
Air rushed into his lungs and he inhaled sharply, sitting upright in one motion.
White ceiling.
Square light above him.
A faint crack in the plaster near the corner.
The smell of room spray and old wood.
He turned slowly.
Metal bed frame. Plain wooden desk. A stack of textbooks. A cheap standing fan near the window.
A dormitory room.
Not the summit of Xuanye Sect.
Not the ruins of a battlefield.
His hands rose in front of him.
Smooth skin. No sword scars across his knuckles. No faint golden glow beneath his veins. No lingering aura of Golden Core cultivation.
He clenched his fist.
Weak.
Mortal weak.
His breathing grew uneven.
He swung his legs off the bed. The tile floor was cold beneath his feet.
Each step felt unreal, as if he were walking inside a memory.
The mirror above the desk caught his reflection.
A young man stared back at him.
Black hair was slightly messy. Sharp eyes, but not yet cold. Lean frame. Shoulders not yet hardened by years of battle.
Nineteen years old.
Before the Spiritual Tide.
Before Xuanye Sect.
Before betrayal.
His chest tightened violently.
The memory returned in full clarity.
The shattered summit.
Blood on stone.
Spiritual pressure crushing his bones.
Han Tianyu standing calm in silver robes.
Lin Xuanye looked down at his chest.
His shirt was intact.
No wound.
No dagger.
For a brief moment doubt flickered through his mind.
Was it an illusion before death?
Was it a final hallucination as his soul scattered?
Then a faint chill spread beneath his head.
Subtle.
Cold.
He tore open the front of his shirt.
Over his heart, a black mark slowly surfaced.
Thin and vertical like the outline of a blade.
Ancient runes shimmered faintly within it for a single heartbeat before fading into his skin.
Lin Xuanye froze.
The Nine Nether Samsara Dagger.
It had followed him.
Not in physical form, but bound to his soul.
His pulse got quicker, but not from fear.
From certainty.
This is real.
He turned to the desk and grabbed his phone.
The screen lit up.
He stared at the date for several seconds.
Seven days.
Seven days before the Spiritual Tide descended upon Earth.
He remembered this week clearly from his previous life.
Strange weather reports.
Astronomical anomalies.
People joking online about the end of the world.
Then the sky tore open.
Spiritual energy flooded the planet like a silent tsunami.
Some awakened.
Some mutated.
Some died.
He had been average.
No ancient bloodline.
No hidden inheritance.
Just another young man confused by sudden power.
He met Han Tianyu two weeks after the awakening.
They fought side by side against a mutated wolf pack outside Canglan City.
Back to back.
He remembered laughing in the rain, believing he had found someone he could trust.
Lin Xuanye's fingers tightened around the phone until the screen cracked beneath his grip.
This time that will not happen.
He placed the broken phone down slowly.
Think.
In seven days the Spiritual Tide arrives.
In nine days the first beast mutation appears near the western district.
In twelve days the underground spirit vein beneath the abandoned construction site fully awakens.
In one month the Black Moon Ruins reveal themselves.
He knows the sequence.
He knows the opportunities.
He knows the disasters.
He rose and walked to the window, pulling the curtains aside.
Canglan City stretched beneath the evening sky.
Cars moved along crowded streets.
Students laughed outside campus gates.
A food vendor shouted about grilled skewers.
Everything looked peaceful.
Fragile.
Completely unaware that the world was about to fracture.
In his previous life this week passed in confusion.
This time it will be preparation.
He left the dormitory without hesitation.
The campus was lively. Students discussed exams. Complained about professors. Planned weekend trips.
He walked past them calmly.
To him they looked like paper before a storm.
Thirty minutes later he stood before a fenced off construction site in the western district.
In his previous life this land remained empty for years. Later it was discovered that a minor spirit vein fragment lay beneath it. By then powerful clans had seized control.
This time it belongs to him.
He slipped through a gap in the fence and stepped onto the uneven dirt.
The air here felt slightly different.
Cooler.
He walked to the center and knelt down.
Closing his eyes, he pressed his palm against the soil.
At first there was nothing.
Then faintly, almost imperceptible, he felt it.
A thread.
So thin it might have been imagination.
But to someone who once stood at the peak of Golden Core, it was unmistakable.
Spiritual energy.
Not yet abundant.
Not yet stable.
But present.
Even before the full descent of the Spiritual Tide, the world was already changing.
Without hesitation he sat cross legged.
In his previous life he cultivated a mid grade technique obtained months after awakening. Slow and flawed. It took him years to repair the damage to his foundation.
This time he carried a Heaven Grade scripture within his memory.
The Nine Nether Immortal Scripture.
He steadied his breathing.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Draw the thread inward.
The moment spiritual energy entered his meridians, pain exploded through his body.
His channels were unopened.
His flesh was still mortal.
It felt like swallowing fire.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
His body trembled violently.
A rational voice warned him to stop.
It is too early.
You will cripple yourself.
He ignored it.
Again he drew the thread inward.
Again pain flared.
His fingers dug into the soil.
Sweat soaked his back.
His vision blurred.
He remembered kneeling on the summit platform with shattered bones while his sect burned behind him.
Compared to that, this pain was nothing.
Circulate.
Refine.
Compress.
The faintest wisp of energy gathered in his lower abdomen.
Small.
Unstable.
But real.
Hours passed.
City noises faded.
Midnight arrived.
Gradually something shifted.
The thread became smoother.
His breathing synchronized with it.
The pain lessened.
A thin stream of Qi formed within his dantian.
Qi Gathering Realm.
Before the Spiritual Tide had even officially arrived.
Lin Xuanye slowly opened his eyes.
The night felt clearer.
Sharper.
He could hear footsteps beyond the fence.
Smell oil from distant machinery.
Feel the subtle pulse beneath the earth.
He exhaled slowly.
Seven days until the sky splits.
Seven days until chaos begins.
This time he will not be scrambling for survival.
This time he will stand at the front of the tide.
Somewhere in the peaceful city, unaware of what was coming, Han Tianyu was living an ordinary life.
Lin Xuanye's gaze turned cold.
When the Spiritual Tide arrives, our paths will cross again.
And this time, I will be ready.