The silence in the courtyard was brittle. The Gu Clan disciples watched with wide eyes, waiting for the explosion. Gu Jian, the Clan Head, narrowed his eyes, his cultivation aura thickening until the air felt heavy as lead. To any other servant, this pressure would have forced their knees to the dirt.
To Song Hui, it was like a gentle breeze against a mountain.
"A room and clean water?" Gu Jian's voice was a low growl. "You speak to me as if you are a guest, Song Hui. Have you forgotten your place? Or has the terror of the road turned your brain to mush?"
"Father, stop!" Xian Gu stepped forward, her voice ringing with the authority of the Divine Maiden. "The guards were slaughtered. If not for Song Hui, I wouldn't be standing here. He saved my life."
Gu Jian shifted his gaze to his daughter, his expression softening only slightly. "He is a servant, Xian. It is his duty to die for you. It is not his place to demand anything."
Song Hui finally looked at Gu Jian. He didn't see a powerful cultivator; he saw a man struggling to hold onto the fading glory of a declining clan.
"I am not asking for a reward," Song Hui said calmly. "I am stating a requirement. If I am to protect the Divine Maiden again, I cannot do so while covered in filth and lacking rest. Unless, of course, the Gu Clan prefers their protectors to be as ineffective as the guards currently rotting on the mountain pass."
A sharp intake of breath echoed through the courtyard. The audacity was staggering. Gu Jian's hand tightened on the hilt of his jade sword, but he felt a strange hesitation. There was something in Song Hui's eyes—a lack of fear so absolute that it was predatory.
"Fine," Gu Jian hissed, withdrawing his aura. "Give him a room in the outer wing. And clean water. But mark my words, servant—if your 'luck' runs out, I will feed you to the parasites myself."
Later that night, Song Hui sat cross-legged on the floor of a sparse, drafty room. A basin of water sat nearby, now darkened with the grime of the mortal world. He ignored the cold and the hunger, focusing entirely on the internal landscape of his new body.
'Refining Qi, Quenching Body,' he mused. 'The very first steps of the Mortal Master realm. Pathetic.'
In his past life, he had bypassed these stages through divine birthright. Now, he had to build the house from the dirt up. He closed his eyes, and instead of pulling Qi into his meridians like a common cultivator, he began to vibrate his soul.
'The previous me followed the path of Universal Resonance, but I relied on the Sacred Realm's abundance,' he thought. 'Here, the Qi is thin and polluted. If I want to reach the peak, I cannot just absorb it. I must refine it until it is pure.'
He began the True Dao Heart Circulation.
His heartbeat slowed until it was nearly silent. The Heart Parasite, sensing a change in its host, began to writhe in agitation, trying to drain his energy.
"Be still," Song Hui whispered.
He didn't fight the parasite. Instead, he allowed a thread of his refined Qi to wrap around it, not to kill it, but to soothe it. His Path of Love—the Agape that unified all living things—was still there, even if his power was gone. The parasite settled, lulled into a deep slumber by the warmth of his intent.
As the night progressed, Song Hui's body began to steam. The impurities in his muscles and bones—the marks of years of malnutrition and abuse—were being forced out through his pores.
'In the Sacred Realm, I was a Sovereign because of destiny,' he realized as a surge of agonizing pain washed over him. 'But this time, I will do it properly. I will forge every meridian, temper every bone, and refine every drop of blood. If I succeed, I won't just be a Sovereign of the Sacred Realm. I will be the Sovereign of the Heavens.'
By dawn, his skin was covered in a thin layer of black, foul-smelling sludge, but his eyes were clear. He had reached the first stage of Body Quenching. He was still weak by his old standards, but in this mortal body, he finally felt like he was holding the reins.
A small knock sounded at his door.
"Song Hui? Are you awake? Sister says you're a hero now!"
Song Hui opened his eyes. He recognized the voice. Xue Gu, the ten-year-old brother of Xian Gu. The boy was the only person in the estate who had ever treated the old Song Hui with a shred of kindness.
'The child who wants to be a Saint,' Song Hui thought, standing up. He wiped his face with a damp cloth, his movements now possessing a predatory grace. 'Let's see if this world has enough spirit left to foster another one.'