Chapter 2: Rebirth

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“Who could have imagined that the esteemed chief disciple of the Xuantian Sect would stoop so low as to resort to poisoning?”
“You are unworthy to be our eldest senior brother!”
“Ji Guanchi, you deserve to die.”

...

The young man lying on the bed suddenly jolted awake. He flung his eyes open, his breath ragged, and only after several gasps did his mind begin to clear. Instinctively, his hand went to his chest—where there ought to have been a gaping wound, there was not the slightest trace of injury, only a faint instability in his spiritual veins.

Almost at once, he tore open his robes. Though his skin was unmarred, the pain lingered, as if those phantom wounds still bored into his very soul. His face turned pale. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps came from outside. Ji Guanchi rasped, “Who’s there?”

His tone was sharp with vigilance. He turned over, snatching up the sword at his side. The blade was cool to the touch, ancient patterns winding over the hilt. At this moment, the Gentlemen’s Sword was whole, not a single crack upon it, which left Ji Guanchi momentarily stunned, struck by a sense of peculiarity.

This room, this sword, these clothes, this unblemished body... None of it resembled his state before death, and yet it was unmistakably his.

Before he could ponder further, a voice came respectfully from the outer door—it was a disciple from the outer sect. “Senior Brother, someone up ahead said that in three days, during the Sect Grand Ceremony, a new batch of disciples will be recruited. Will you be attending the ceremony as well?”

These words instantly dragged Ji Guanchi’s thoughts back three years.

Before his reputation was ruined, he had been universally praised as the eldest brother of the sect: upright, caring toward his peers, brave, tireless in his cultivation. Yet everything had changed at the Grand Ceremony three years ago, with the arrival of that dazzling junior disciple.

His name was Xi Yao. From the moment he appeared, he astounded all, and was immediately taken as the last disciple under the Zhen Nan Immortal Lord. Loved by the entire sect, he basked in unrivaled glory. None of this should have concerned Ji Guanchi, who had always treated his junior with kindness.

Until—

The junior began suffering injuries, facing dangers, and being poisoned. All the evidence pointed to Ji Guanchi. In the end, Xi Yao himself accused him, leaving Ji Guanchi unable to defend himself. He was imprisoned in a watery cell, his cultivation crippled, and finally died a miserable death.

“The Sect Grand Ceremony... three years ago...”

Ji Guanchi gripped the Gentlemen’s Sword, his voice trembling, barely audible: “I... I have been reborn!”

It was once said by a cultivator: “The myriad Daoist arts, in harmony with Heaven and Earth, all lead to the cycle of reincarnation.”

Never did he think it true, let alone that it could happen to him.

“Senior Brother?” The voice outside, hearing no reply, knocked again. “Senior Brother, are you inside?”

“Ahem, ahem...” Ji Guanchi coughed twice. “I will not go.”

There was a pause, then, “Very well, Senior Brother, please take care and recover.”

Once the footsteps faded, Ji Guanchi finally sat up. He pinched himself—the pain and sensation were all too real. He had no time for anything else; the indignation from his death still filled his chest, suffocating him.

He did not know if those people got what they wanted after his death, nor whether his corpse was desecrated for their revenge. He no longer cared. All he wished for was to gather his things and leave this wretched Xuantian Sect at once.

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No wonder they say that being chief disciple is the hardest and most dangerous position in any sect. Just last year, the chief disciple of the Wanhua Sect went mad during cultivation and perished in an explosion. The year before, Danxia Sect’s chief vanished after entering the Minor Paradise. And three years ago, three chief disciples died together on the frontlines against the Demon Sect.

Ji Guanchi searched his room, packing into his universe pouch all the items and elixirs he had amassed. Anything that was his, he took; anything that wasn't, he left untouched.

He was determined to sever all ties with Xuantian Sect, to avoid all karmic entanglement. He would flee as far as he could—if he could not afford to offend them, he could at least escape.

But just as he finished packing and slung on his sword to leave, he found that everyone he met along the cliff greeted him warmly. Ji Guanchi had always been well-liked; people smiled and addressed him respectfully as “Senior Brother.”

Yet Ji Guanchi knew that three years from now, these same people would look at him with hatred for the sake of that junior, wishing nothing more than for him to die on the spot.

“The Grand Ceremony will begin soon. Senior Brother, where are you off to at such a time?” a gatekeeper asked. “You’d better get back soon—once the ceremony starts, the Sect Protection Array will activate, and then no one will be able to enter or leave.”

“Mm,” Ji Guanchi responded, his expression calm, though his hand trembled slightly on the sword.

Anyone who had died and returned to life would find it impossible to remain truly unruffled. Ji Guanchi knew he could not linger here; the rest could be considered once he had escaped this den of trouble.

“May I see your Xuantian Token, Senior Brother? We need to update the registry,” the gatekeeper said.

Ji Guanchi, nervous, had nearly forgotten. He hurriedly produced the token from his pouch, handed it over, and watched as it was pressed to the stone tablet outside the sect for time-stamping. The token was then returned to him with both hands.

A flicker of disgust crossed his eyes, but he accepted the token with a neutral face and tossed it back into his pouch, finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

Once he was out, the world would be his to roam—a fish in the sea, a bird beneath the vast sky. Chief disciple of Xuantian Sect? Favored pupil under the Zhen Nan Immortal Lord? He wanted none of it. All he needed was his sword and the freedom to wander the cultivation world.

Yet just as Ji Guanchi took his first step, before he could even activate his sword technique, a bell suddenly tolled. All disciples halted and looked to the mountaintop, where golden blades of light shot outward, forming a dome like a vast glass bell.

“The Sect Protection Array...” The sight of this familiar formation made Ji Guanchi’s heart sink.

“This array was supposed to activate three days from now, at the start of the ceremony—why is it starting today?” the gatekeeper wondered aloud, echoing Ji Guanchi’s confusion.

But Ji Guanchi knew escape was impossible. He was all too familiar with this array—though the golden light seemed to spread slowly, the instant the bell tolled, the entire protective barrier was already in place.

No one could enter from outside, and none within could leave.

“What is going on...” Ji Guanchi muttered, gripping his sword and tensing.

He could not work out what was happening, nor whether in his previous life the array had also been activated three days early. He remembered that last time, a cultivation mishap had left him bedridden for days, missing the Grand Ceremony entirely.

“The Sect Master has decreed!” A commanding voice echoed from the mountaintop, each word crisp and clear in every ear: “The Sect Protection Array is to be activated from this day forth. No one may enter or leave until the Ceremony concludes.”

“They’re starting now? Does that mean the recruitment trial begins today?” an outer disciple asked, puzzled. “This year is odd.”

“Nothing strange about it,” another replied. “All those meant to participate are already here. As for those who haven’t arrived—well, you can’t fight fate. It is what it is.”

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A white-robed figure passed before them; both disciples paused, then quickly bowed. “Senior Brother.”

When Ji Guanchi’s figure had vanished from sight, one of them said, “I’ve heard Senior Brother was taught by Zhen Nan Immortal Lord, the number one in the cultivation world. The Immortal Lord only has three personal disciples. I wonder if he’ll take on a new one this year.”

“Wishful thinking. The Immortal Lord said long ago: only three. Whoever becomes a disciple—genius or fool—it’s all their destiny, nothing to do with us outer disciples. Best to mind our own business.”

Of course, none of this reached Ji Guanchi’s ears. He wandered along the sparsely populated edges of the sect, heavy-hearted, searching in vain for a way out before finally returning to his quarters.

His dwelling was a small wooden hut, simple yet elegant. Before he even approached, he sensed another presence inside and halted immediately. His voice was cold: “Who’s there?”

The door opened. A figure in purple robes leaned against the doorframe, face frosty as he eyed Ji Guanchi, his voice indifferent: “I heard you were injured. Why aren’t you resting instead of running about?”

It was none other than the master of the Soul-Splitting Twin Blades, Ji Guanchi’s second junior brother, Xiao Tangqing.

“Just wandering to pass the time,” Ji Guanchi replied at the threshold, not entering. He unconsciously tightened his grip on his sword, gaze lowered, his demeanor distant. “If you have nothing else, please leave. I need to rest.”

In the past, Ji Guanchi had been the epitome of gentleness, especially toward Xiao Tangqing, who had always been fond of dabbling in unorthodox arts. Ji Guanchi would patiently advise and even nag him, sometimes to the point of annoyance.

Looking back, it was clear that his junior’s dislike had not grown overnight. Ji Guanchi sighed inwardly.

This cold, distant stance caught Xiao Tangqing off guard. He frowned, barely perceptibly, unsettled by how taciturn and aloof Ji Guanchi had become.

“Aren’t you going to ask why I came?” Xiao Tangqing asked.

“I don’t care to know.” Seeing that Xiao Tangqing made no move to leave, Ji Guanchi skirted around him into the hut, saying, “As you said, I’m recovering from injuries and need rest. Please see yourself out.”

... In the past, it was always Ji Guanchi who fussed over him; never the other way around.

Xiao Tangqing’s face darkened. He opened his mouth but merely tossed a packet of herbs onto the desk. “Seven-leaf Lingzhi. Boil it and drink.”

In his previous life, Xiao Tangqing had also left him a packet of herbs. Back then, Ji Guanchi had been overjoyed, thinking his junior had finally grown up and cared for his elder brother.

Now, Ji Guanchi looked at the herbs and sneered. With a flick of his sleeve, he tossed them back at Xiao Tangqing, then sat down to meditate, eyes closed. “My spiritual energy is depleted; this is not the time for supplements. I must cultivate now. Please do not disturb me.”

“Ji Guanchi!” Xiao Tangqing started to argue, but then heard Ji Guanchi cough softly. He paused, gripping the herbs, and finally snapped, “As you wish.”

With that, he turned and left.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that Ji Guanchi was different today—not as caring, not as talkative as before.

Now, Ji Guanchi seemed intent on cutting all ties. The realization irked Xiao Tangqing; scowling, he crushed the herbs in his palm and muttered, “I was wasting my time. Do as you please!”