"Young Master, please wake up! The sect evaluation begins in two hours!"

  Lin Feng's voice carried a mix of urgency and resignation. He had spent years serving the Lin family's third son—but something in his young master's eyes this morning seemed... different.

  Lin Tian sat up slowly, his gaze sweeping across the modest chamber with an intensity that made the attendant step back.

  "This is... the Celestial Dragon Sect? In the Eastern Cultivation Realms?" The question hung in the air, strange and disorienting. "What happened to the Mortal Realm of Latvaria?"

  "Young Master?" The attendant's brow furrowed.

  A chill ran down his spine.

  Qi deviation?

  He had heard whispers of such afflictions—cultivators whose minds fractured under spiritual pressure, leading to delusions or personality changes. But his master had barely begun cultivation. The spiritual core was hardly developed enough to suffer deviation.

  The attendant cleared his throat. "Today is the sect's quarterly evaluation. Elder Zhou has warned that if you fail to demonstrate progress in your cultivation, you might lose your place entirely." He hesitated. "It's your third evaluation, so perhaps if you could at least show some improvement—"

  "There is something more important than that."

  The interruption was startling. The young master had never cut him off before—had always been desperate for advice, for any sliver of hope that might preserve his position.

  "Take me to the Sect's archives." Lin Tian rose with fluid grace that seemed entirely foreign to his usual clumsy movements. "It is more important for me to understand the cultivation methods of this world in which I will be living, than to participate in an evaluation I am unprepared for."

  The attendant stared, dumbfounded. The young master, who had lived in the Celestial Dragon Sect for over a decade, spoke as if he were a complete newcomer.

  The Trash of the Lin Family.

  That cruel nickname followed the youth throughout the sect. While his elder brother had risen to become an outer sect elder and his younger siblings had reached the fifth level of Qi Condensation, this one struggled with even the most basic techniques.

  Yet something in those eyes now...

  "I understand, Young Master."

  The outer disciples' archive pavilion stood at the edge of the sect grounds—a modest wooden structure that had seen better days. After the last spirit beast incursion, many original texts had been destroyed, and the precious remaining scrolls were reserved for core disciples.

  The wooden door creaked ominously as the attendant pushed it open. Dust particles danced in the shafts of morning sunlight that penetrated the grimy windows.

  "Do you really want to browse these basic cultivation manuals?" he asked, unable to hide his confusion. "If it's advanced techniques you're seeking, perhaps one of the sect elders—"

  "It's fine."

  Lin Tian strode purposefully into the dusty chamber, his pristine white sect robes immediately collecting smudges of gray. The attendant winced, waiting for the inevitable complaint—the young master was notorious for his obsession with appearance, for using his family's modest status to demand special treatment.

  But the complaint never came.

  The youth moved between the shelves with purpose, examining worn scrolls with calculating eyes. His fingers traced ancient bindings with reverence rather than disgust.

  "These contain only entry-level breathing techniques and basic meridian exercises," the attendant ventured, hoping to redirect his inexplicable interest. "All outer disciples master these within their first three years. They offer little advantage for today's evaluation."

  The archive's condition was pitiful. Thick dust covered everything, making breathing difficult. Cobwebs stretched across corners and between shelves like silver nets waiting to ensnare the unwary.

  "Wait outside," Lin Tian commanded suddenly.

  The attendant couldn't hide his surprise but found himself obeying without question.

  Through the open doorway, he watched as the young master approached the elderly archive keeper dozing in the corner. The old man looked up with visible astonishment as Lin Tian addressed him.

  "Young Master Lin shows interest in our basic texts?" The old archivist's voice carried clearly through the still air.

  "Sit and share your knowledge with me," Lin Tian gestured to a chair opposite his own. "I need to understand everything about the Celestial Dragon Sect—what cultivation paths exist here and which techniques are most valued."

  The old archivist hesitated, clearly confused by the notorious failure's sudden scholarly interest.

  "Please begin now," the youth added with gentle insistence, unrolling an ancient text before him.

  The attendant watched in fascination as the old man's hesitation dissolved under the unexpectedly charismatic attention.

  "The Celestial Dragon Sect was originally founded by the Immortal Cultivator Feng Long," the archivist began, his voice gathering strength. "He discovered a method to harness the spiritual energy of the five elements through the Azure Dragon meridian system..."

  As the old man spoke of wars and cultivation breakthroughs, Lin Tian listened with intense focus, occasionally asking questions that revealed unexpected insight.

  The attendant retreated a few paces from the doorway, lost in thought.

  Lin Tian, who is this person you've become?

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  But Lin Tian was no longer Lin Tian.

  In his mind, he was Edward Reinhart—Emperor of Latvaria, Unifier of the Mortal Realm, the man who had defeated gods.

  After conquering all he surveyed, after bringing peace to a world torn by immortal conflicts, Edward had sought only one thing: rest. A quiet life away from battles and responsibilities.

  Instead, he'd awakened in the body of cultivation's greatest failure.

  I was so close, he thought with a pang of regret. Twenty years of ruling, establishing peace... and finally, I was going to retire to that cottage in the mountains. No more conflicts, no more expectations.

  He glanced down at the unfamiliar hands before him—young, unscarred, with none of the calluses earned through decades of wielding a sword.

  Is this a gift from heaven, or some punishment for rejecting ascension when the gods offered it to me?

  As the archivist continued his explanation, fragments of memories not his own flickered through Edward's mind. Humiliation at failing basic techniques. Contempt from fellow disciples. The crushing weight of being the family disappointment.

  These weren't his memories—they belonged to Lin Tian, the boy whose body he now inhabited.

  Last night, he had discovered cultivation pills scattered across the floor—stolen, apparently—along with a half-written suicide note. The original Lin Tian had been driven to desperation, unable to bear another failure, knowing his family had sent him as sacrificial fodder because his talented siblings were too valuable to risk.

  I should honor his sacrifice by living the quiet life I always wanted, Edward thought. Stay below notice. Accept mediocrity. Find peace in anonymity.

  Yet something pulled at him. Was it the lingering will of the original Lin Tian? Or his own instincts, honed through decades of fighting for justice?

  He focused intently as the archivist's lengthy explanation finally wound to a close.

  "...This is all I know."

  "Thank you," he replied, genuine gratitude in his voice. "It was a big help. We will compensate for this separately later."

  "No, Young Master. Just having a conversation with someone who shows genuine interest in our sect's heritage was a pleasure for me."

  Lin Tian smiled—a smile that reached his eyes in a way the original owner of this body's never had.

  As he rose to return to his quarters, sudden commotion erupted outside.

  Bang! Thump!

  "You worthless trash!"

  His steps quickened as he emerged from the archive. The attendant hovered nervously at his side.

  In the dusty courtyard, a group of disciples with golden-trimmed robes surrounded a smaller figure. A boy—even younger than Lin Tian's current body—lay curled on the ground as kicks and punches rained down upon him.

  "You talentless waste."

  "Just give up and leave the sect!"

  The boy made no sound despite the brutal assault. His silence seemed to fuel his tormentors' rage, their cultivation-enhanced blows precise enough to permanently damage meridians.

  A crowd had gathered, but no one intervened. Eyes shifted away whenever they met the golden trim of the attackers' robes.

  Lin Tian paused, watching the scene unfold.

  This isn't my battle, he told himself firmly. I've fought enough in my life. Something like this should be none of my concern.

  He turned to leave, but hesitated. The fallen boy's silent endurance of the beating struck a chord within him.

  I wanted quiet. I wanted peace. Is that what I truly deserve after taking this boy's life?

  Something inside him stirred—perhaps a fragment of the original Lin Tian's spirit, unwilling to submit despite his despair. Or perhaps it was just his own conscience, the part of Edward Reinhart that had never been able to walk away from injustice.

  "Young Master!" The attendant gripped his arm, panic evident. "They're Inner Sect disciples—a group known for 'testing' weaker students. The boy likely failed to show proper respect. We should pretend we didn't see this. There's nothing good about getting tangled with them."

  Lin Tian's jaw tightened. The scene before him was painfully familiar—the strong oppressing the weak simply because they could. It was no different from what he'd fought against his entire previous life.

  I could walk away. Find a quiet corner of this sect. Keep my head down. Isn't that what I wanted?

  But the more he tried to turn away, the stronger the pull became. Perhaps this was his purpose—not a punishment or a random chance, but an opportunity. A second chance to make a difference in another world that needed it.

  "Stop."

  The single word carried the authority of an emperor.

  "Young... young Master!" The attendant reached for him, but it was too late.

  The Inner Sect disciples turned, momentarily stunned by the interruption. Then recognition dawned.

  "Lin Tian?" The leader stepped forward, a cold smile spreading across his face. "Don't mind this. We will finish our business here."

  "Tsk, trying to act brave because his family has connections."

  "Stop it, he says. Hahaha, useless waste."

  Whispers and laughter rippled through the group. The fallen boy remained motionless, blood trickling from his nose, bruises darkening across his exposed skin.

  The attendant's voice was barely audible. "We have to return. The Inner Sect disciples have the backing of powerful elders. If a problem arises here, not even your family connections can protect you..."

  "I don't know the rules of this sect very well yet." Lin Tian's calm voice silenced him instantly. There was something in that tone—a resonance of power that made his hair stand on end. "So, please explain. Who has violated the sect's principles here? And for breaking these principles, what kind of response is appropriate?"

  The attendant felt caught in that powerful gaze. The pathetic young master who had failed at every cultivation challenge now projected a presence he couldn't resist.

  Against all wisdom, he heard himself answering truthfully.

  "The boy was guilty of walking on the wrong path reserved for Inner Sect disciples. It deserves correction, but these disciples have no right to administer punishment directly. Above all, they dared to speak insulting words against a recognized disciple of the Celestial Dragon Sect on sect grounds. According to sect rules, they should receive formal discipline from the elders."

  He bowed his head, heart pounding, legs trembling.

  The onlookers held their breath. Smirks spread across the faces of the Inner Sect disciples.

  Lin Tian stepped forward.

  Forgive me, he thought, not entirely sure if he was addressing himself or the spirit of the boy whose body he now inhabited. It seems I cannot simply fade into obscurity after all.

  While everyone watched, he picked up a wooden practice sword from a nearby weapon rack and pointed it at the Inner Sect disciples. His stance was perfect—balanced, centered, the weapon an extension of his arm rather than a separate object.

  "You have violated the sect's principles. From now on, as Lin Tian of the Celestial Dragon Sect, I will demonstrate how true disciples should conduct themselves."

  The sword gleamed in the morning sunlight, and for one impossible moment, observers would later swear they saw the shadow of a dragon coiling around the practice blade.

  In that moment, Edward Reinhart fully accepted his new identity. The peaceful retirement he had dreamed of would have to wait. This world, like his last, needed someone willing to stand against injustice.

  And perhaps, in some small way, this was his redemption—a chance to honor the desperate boy whose life he had inherited, to give meaning to an existence that had been on the brink of ending.

  From now on, he was Lin Tian. And Lin Tian would not be known as trash for much longer.