As the door to his room clicked shut, Liu Zheng let out a long sigh of relief. Alone, at last.
His return to the city—and more importantly, to the Liu family palace—had become far more exhausting than he had anticipated. It wasn't entirely unexpected; after all, it was a monumental occasion for the family. Yet, Zheng felt as though he was barely holding everything together. What he needed now was solitude. Thankfully, despite the concern and confusion his family had shown, they had respected his wishes. He was, after all, the head of the family now, a cultivator in the Golden Core realm. That one fact had carried him through his arrival in this world and helped explain away any oddities in his behavior from the sudden transmigration.
But now, with the door securely shut behind him, he finally had the peace he so desperately craved. His inherited memories told him this room was protected by a sealing formation embedded in the walls, ensuring no one could sense anything happening within. Grateful, he collapsed onto the opulent bed, allowing his cold expression to soften as his body relaxed.
What a day.
He had woken up in a strange world, found himself inhabiting the body of another "Liu Zheng," nearly assaulted his uncle—who, admittedly, deserved it—and then barked orders at his family to prepare a room for him before dismissing them with vague promises of addressing the family later. All of this had been done by a man who had never even raised his voice in his office. Zheng almost chuckled at the thought. But as the humor faded, his mind turned to a topic he'd been trying to avoid: What about his family? His world? Was he dead in his original world, or had the Liu Zheng of this world somehow transitioned to his side? It didn't seem likely—he still felt deeply connected to his memories and emotions—but he wasn't an expert on this kind of situation.
And what about his family? Did they think he was dead? Well, not yet—if time here moved similarly to his world, he supposed—but sooner or later, he'd be declared missing. Zheng thought of his parents, his sister, and even the cute girl from his office he had been planning to ask out, and a pang of loss shot through him. The situation felt absurd, so much so that he couldn't bring himself to mourn. Still, he had been ripped out of his old life and thrust into this new one. Anyone would be struggling to stay composed, and frankly, he thought his ability to hold it together was worthy of some praise.
He rolled onto his back, staring at the wooden ceiling above him. Thick oak beams crisscrossed overhead, weaving a web of lacquered wood from which softly glowing qi lamps and sheer silk scarves hung, adding a touch of elegance. The blue light from the lamps was gentle, calming. He let his gaze linger on the intricate ceiling, letting the tension slowly melt away.
After a few moments, he raised his hand, turning it over, studying it from different angles. The sensation of it all was almost surreal. There was no disconnect between his mind and this new body—after all, his memories told him he had been born into it. Still, in that moment, he felt more like the modern "Zheng" than the cultivator. How long would that feeling last? He couldn't say. It wasn't as if Liu Zheng's previous persona didn't still exert some influence. The memory of how he'd reacted to his uncle lingered in his mind.
Not wanting to dwell on those thoughts, Zheng rolled onto his side and began reflecting on something that had been bothering him for a while. It had started when he'd seen his uncle and felt a strange sense of familiarity—something that tugged at the edges of his modern memories. After thinking it through, he was almost certain: He, the "Liu Zheng" from the twenty-first century, was familiar with the setting of this world. He had read about it in a book once. In that story, Liu Zhisheng had been the first major antagonist the hero, Ye Chen, had encountered after Ye Chen defeated his son, Liu Zhang, for his villainous actions in Green Bamboo City. There was no mention of Liu Zheng in the story, but it was clear that he had arrived before the main plot unfolded. It wasn't hard to believe that Ye Chen, the protagonist, would likely arrive in the city a couple of years later, after the original Liu Zheng had long passed, with his uncle now ruling the Liu family.
This realization brought up bigger concerns. Zheng didn't recall the story in perfect detail, but the parts he did remember painted a grim picture. Ye Chen, in the novel, was the reincarnation of an immortal, locked in a fated death match with the immortal of slaughter—a being who had brought the world to ruin millennia ago and had barely been contained. Ye Chen had traveled across the world to stop the immortal from being released, but in the end, he had failed. Though Ye Chen had become an immortal himself and gained the power necessary to defeat the immortal of slaughter, the final battle had ravaged the world, destroying entire nations in its wake.
Zheng remembered a line from the novel that had always stuck with him: "…the blood of millions of people flowed into the seas, dyeing them forever red, as the immortal of slaughter continued his pilgrimage to end all life on this world…"
Liu Zheng wasn't a hero or a fated character. If such a calamity were to descend upon this world, he would be in grave danger. What could he—a man who was, at best, a background character—do in the face of such a catastrophe? The thought made him feel a sudden surge of frustration.
First things first, he needed to dig through his memories of the novel. Perhaps there was something buried within that could offer him a way forward. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized how hopeless it all seemed. What had made Ye Chen special was that he was the only person who could naturally progress in cultivation past a certain point. The stages of cultivation in this world were divided as follows: Qi Condensation, with twelve sub-stages; Foundation Establishment, divided into early, middle, and late stages; then Golden Core or Core Formation, followed by Nascent Soul, with both of these realms having the same sub-stages as Foundation Establishment. The highest level beyond that—Immortal Ascension—was more myth than reality.
Unfortunately, all of this was theoretical. A thousand years ago, during the cataclysmic battle to contain the immortal of slaughter, the very origin qi of the world had been tainted. Since then, no one had been able to progress beyond Foundation Establishment. The only way to reach the higher realms was to inherit the cultivation of a deceased ancestor. This practice had given rise to noble families. Cultivation—and power—was passed down through bloodlines, and so the powerful ruled while the weak served.
This method had drawbacks, though. Anyone who inherited cultivation could never advance it further. But given the impossibility of progressing on their own, it wasn't much of a downside. In the Celestial Phoenix Empire, where the Liu family resided, the emperor was the only late-stage Nascent Soul cultivator, with just two other peers in the Nascent Soul stage—one in the early stage from the royal family, and another in the mid-stage, the empire's only duke.
As an early Golden Core cultivator, Liu Zheng was considered a viscount of the empire. The Liu family ruled a vast tract of land, with Green Bamboo City as their power base. The Liu family palace sat at the heart of the city, and their primary source of wealth—a spirit stone mine—lay just to the north. The city itself had likely grown around the mine over the years.
Given all this, he should be able to relax and enjoy life as a pampered noble. But with the looming confrontation between Ye Chen and the immortal of slaughter, that dream felt more like a fantasy. Should he try to find the protagonist? Perhaps, with his knowledge of future events, he could help Ye Chen deal with the immortal of slaughter more effectively. Maybe they could prevent the immortal from ever being released?
It was an enticing thought, but there was one massive problem. Liu Zheng might not remember every detail of the novel, but he remembered enough of his experience reading it. He had put the book down several times, even leaving it for months before picking it up again. The reason? He had absolutely despised the hero, Ye Chen. Arrogant, unlikable, rude—Ye Chen had been the archetypical "untouchable" protagonist, the kind who had everything go his way, no matter how selfish or annoying he was. He had been the perfect, do-no-wrong, harem-seeking hero, and Liu Zheng had only finished the novel because he enjoyed parts of the world-building. The thought of working with someone like that sounded like a nightmare.
Liu Zheng sat up in bed, abandoning any hope of relaxing. His thoughts were spiraling into darker territory, and rest felt impossible. He needed a break. Going outside and trying to strike up a conversation sounded like a chore. What then? Maybe experimenting with his newfound powers? After all, every boy dreams of casting spells and throwing fireballs. Here he was, in a new world with something akin to magic, and he hadn't even tried it yet. His past self would be deeply disappointed in him right now.
Concentrating, he attempted to sense his qi. Instantly, the awareness of his inner qi flow appeared in his mind's eye. His qi network was incredibly strong and complex, an ocean of qi cycling through his meridians and dantian with ferocious speed and perfect control. Just sensing it made him realize how vast the pool of raw power at his disposal was, one that could be shaped into a variety of effects depending on the cultivation method or technique used.
More importantly, floating in his dantian was a miniature, hexagonal mirror—a natal treasure, the defining feature of a Core Formation cultivator. This was an artifact bound to his very soul, capable of being used in numerous ways. His memories offered further details—the Liu family's history had many books dedicated to this artifact: the Azure Moon Mirror.
Zheng directed his qi into the mirror, and it flew from his dantian into his hand. As it left his body, it grew in size, hovering before him like a normal, palm-sized mirror. Its front was a clear, silvery surface, while the back gleamed a deep azure. The mirror itself had six sides, and ancient runes were carved into its edges. It was beautiful, and Zheng knew from his studies that it was also deadly. A natal artifact was the most powerful and versatile tool in a Golden Core cultivator's arsenal.
The Azure Moon Mirror was renowned for its illusion abilities. It could hide its master from detection, create ghostly copies of them indistinguishable from the real ones unless touched, and offensively, it could generate powerful blasts of light capable of shearing through stone and steel. Like all natal treasures, it could be controlled with a thought and the use of qi. It could enlarge, shrink, and duplicate infinitely, depending on the user's qi.
Seeing it hover before him, Liu Zheng grinned, feeling a childish sense of joy. Magic—real, live magic—right in front of him. Sure, he'd ridden on a flying boat earlier, but this? This was cooler.
He extended more of his qi, letting it flow through him and into the Azure Moon Mirror. The silvery surface rippled, its clarity distorting before transforming into an image—a view of the city, the sprawling metropolis that was the heart of Liu family power. He focused harder, zooming in on the palace, then on the very room he sat in. The image sharpened, showing him sitting on the bed, gazing into the mirror. It was strange—like watching himself through a hidden camera.
A flicker of excitement sparked in his chest, and he fed more of his qi into the mirror. The image blurred again, this time showing him scenes of the palace from every angle, sweeping through the halls and chambers, capturing the bustling life of the city, and even stretching beyond it to distant vistas. Liu Zheng smiled broadly. Now this was a useful ability. He could literally observe the entire city from the comfort of his bedroom, and no one would even know.
With a grin, Liu Zheng leaned back on the bed, happy at the mirror's potential. He poured more of his qi into the mirror, thinking of testing its duplication ability, when there was a knock on the door. Zheng's gaze flicked up sharply. He hadn't expected anyone to disturb him, especially after he had been so firm on that point. With a subtle flick of his fingers, he summoned the Azure Moon Mirror to himself. It contracted at his gesture, shrinking into a mote of azure light before flying back into his body.
Once the treasure was safely stowed away, Zheng rose and moved toward the door. Just as his hand reached for the handle, a thought struck him: Should he use his spiritual sense to determine who was on the other side? He needed to get used to his abilities as quickly as possible, and there was no better way than to incorporate them into every action. Immersing himself in such practices would help him grasp the subtleties of cultivation. Besides, he still hadn't fully mastered controlling his aura, though, thankfully, cultivators below the Foundation Establishment stage couldn't sense it unless they were right in front of him.
Making up his mind, Zheng extended his spiritual sense beyond the door. He closed his eyes briefly, focusing inward, willing his awareness to stretch beyond the confines of his body. The sensation was subtle at first, like a soft tug at the back of his mind, as if an invisible thread were pulling him outward. Then, as if a veil had lifted, a new sense unfurled within him. It wasn't sight—sight was sharp and focused, confined to the boundaries of the eyes. Spiritual sense, by contrast, was an all-encompassing awareness, an instinctive perception that washed over everything in its path.
Through it, Zheng could tell that a maid stood just beyond the door, nervously wringing her hands beside a cart piled high with food. There was no qi in her, no cultivation, but the vibrations of her mortal essence were clear. He could feel her hands shifting, her breath deepening and faltering as she waited.
It wasn't just her he could sense—there was the world beyond as well. He could feel the faint crack in the wall across from him, where years of age had worn the lacquer slightly. He felt the soft hum of life beyond his immediate space—the wind rustling through the trees outside, the distant echo of footsteps in the hallway, the low murmur of the bustling city beyond the walls. It was all part of the same intricate web of existence, stretching outward beyond his reach, beyond his sight.
The sensation was overwhelming at first, and Zheng quickly retracted his spiritual sense, pulling it back with a steadying breath. He had to remind himself that he'd need to grow accustomed to keeping it extended at all times. Most cultivators relied on their spiritual sense more than any other sense. Unlike sight, hearing, or smell, it was never prone to failure and could reach far beyond the range of ordinary perception.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Zheng unlocked the door and swung it wide open. The maid, hand raised mid-knock, quickly regained her composure. She immediately dropped into a deep bow, her voice clear as she spoke. "My lord, Lady Zifan has sent this lowly servant to attend to your needs. I have instructed the kitchens to prepare a few humble dishes for your perusal. Should I present them to you?"
Zheng fought to keep his expression neutral, despite the stir of discomfort inside him. He couldn't help but feel bad about how servants were treated and expected to behave in this world—demeaning in its own right. But he had to maintain the ruse, no matter his personal feelings. To buy time, he studied the maid and the cart she was presenting.
She appeared young, perhaps in her early twenties, with a delicate face framed by soft black hair, which she wore neatly tied in a bun at the back of her head. Her robe was made of fine silk, a pale green hue adorned with intricate floral embroidery in gold thread along the hem and cuffs. The dress was simple in cut but elegant in its detailing, a traditional style reserved for higher-ranking servants. A wide, delicate belt in contrasting silver cinched at her waist, and the fabric of her dress flowed smoothly as she shifted uneasily.
The cart beside her was made of dark, polished wood, meticulously carved with motifs of dragons and phoenixes that seemed to dance across the surface. The cart's sturdy wheels were built for durability, exuding an old-world charm as if passed down through generations of the household. On top of it were several dishes—each a work of art in its own right.
Yet, as Zheng looked at the food, another realization struck him: He hadn't felt hunger all day. He had woken up that morning, walked for the better part of an hour to reach the city, and now, nearing noon, he still didn't feel even a hint of hunger. In fact, he felt unusually energized, as if he could run a marathon without breaking a sweat. He knew that at higher stages of cultivation, food and rest became less necessary—indulged in more for pleasure than necessity. Still, the experience was disorienting.
Zheng hesitated for a moment before gesturing for the maid to enter. Her gaze remained fixed on the floor as she stepped inside, her long robes swaying gracefully with her movements. The rich scent of the dishes filled the room as she gently tugged the cart forward, the porcelain plates catching the light, their intricate patterns shimmering in the glow.
She stopped in the center of the room and waited; her eyes still fixed downward. It took Zheng a few awkward seconds to realize that he was supposed to say something. But what? Was there some kind of etiquette he was missing? Were servants not allowed to speak unless spoken to? Or perhaps he was being uncharitable, and this was simply a custom he didn't understand. Should he say something, or stay silent? The uncertainty made him feel out of place, despite the simplicity of the situation.
When Liu Zheng of this world had been younger, his father had treated him as a favored child, but he had never been indulged to the point of mistreating servants. His father had likely hoped to avoid arrogance, ensuring that Zheng was treated as part of the household without special privileges. But since his father's death, under his uncle's rule, everything had changed. Zheng had been treated poorly, and even the servants, once cordial, had mocked him. Etiquette had never been a significant part of his life, especially in the cold, distant atmosphere that followed his father's passing.
But that was irrelevant now. He was a Golden Core cultivator, and his position placed him far above the hierarchy here. He could spit upon the family's favored sons now, and they would likely be forced to thank him for the privilege.
The thought made Zheng feel absurd for overthinking things. Not every interaction needed to be weighed so carefully. With a sigh, he moved to sit on the bed, trying to set aside his discomfort. "Thank you. You can go now. If I need anything, I'll call you," he said, keeping his tone firm, hoping she would leave without further words. He felt a flicker of guilt, but he couldn't afford to dwell on these social intricacies—his current position demanded a different focus.
The maid hesitated for a second, her eyes briefly lifting to meet his before she quickly lowered them again. For a moment, it seemed she might speak, but instead, she gave a deep bow and exited. Zheng watched her leave, and waited for the soft click of the door closing behind her.
Once she was gone, Zheng summoned the Azure Moon Mirror again, ignoring the food for now. He could eat later, but first, he needed to check on this "Lady Zifan." The name was familiar—Liu Zifan, the aunt of this world's Liu Zheng, though he had little memory of her.
Activating the Azure Moon Mirror, Zheng tapped into its clairvoyant power. Through its ethereal glow, he saw the maid retreating to the kitchens, servants gossiping as they bustled about the palace, and, most notably, his uncle and aunt locked in a heated discussion. Zheng focused on them, honing in on their conversation.
Like the room he was in, the one they occupied was shielded by formations designed to prevent any sound or aura from leaking in or out—a precaution that proved utterly useless against the esoteric abilities of the Azure Moon Mirror.
His uncle, Liu Zhisheng, paced back and forth, his robes swirling with every sharp turn, his movements deliberate but tense. His haggard face was twisted in a forbidding scowl, his brow furrowed as if he were struggling to contain a storm. In stark contrast, his aunt, Liu Zifan, sat composed on a cushion, sipping from a delicate tea cup. Though her movements were calm and controlled, Zheng could still detect a flicker of unease in her expression.
"You'll wear a hole in the floor at this rate, brother," Zifan said, setting her cup aside with deliberate calm. "Since you called me here, you might as well let me into your thoughts. Talking might help where brooding can't."
Zhisheng's eyes flashed, and he snapped a sharp gesture at her, as though to swat away her words. "You know exactly why I called you here, and what's on my mind, sister!" His voice was a rasp, his irritation palpable. The word "sister" hissed between his clenched teeth, like a threat made of frustration. He was nearing the edge.
Zifan clucked her tongue, her own patience thinning. "And pacing about will somehow make it better?" she asked, clearly fed up. "We might as well address it directly. You're the one who brought him back. Is there any doubt now? Has he truly mastered the Golden Core?"
Zhisheng froze mid-step, his face twisting with raw frustration. He sank heavily into the cushion opposite her, his hands gripping the fabric of his robes as though holding on to his last shred of control. His face twisted in frustration as he searched for the right words. When he spoke, it was haltingly, as if the truth was a burden he didn't want to bear. "I examined his aura myself... went to the shrine as soon as I could. As far as I can tell, there's no other explanation. Somehow, our... nephew has absorbed and contained the Golden Core, and now he's a cultivator of the Core Formation realm." He clenched his jaw, his face a study of disbelief and rage. "Half the city saw him on his way here, and the other half will know everything soon enough. No, there's no mistake. The Liu family has a new patriarch now." The words were clearly torn unwillingly from him.
Zifan nodded, her expression betraying no surprise. "So, the question now is what to do. Zheng is young, untrained in the ways of court. He'll need to be informed of his new duties, and we'll have to send a scroll to the imperial capital as soon as possible, adding him to the empire's records and swearing our fealty." She paused for a moment, her voice taking on a more pragmatic tone. "And that's just the basics. Everything comes down to how amenable he is to us. If he's not, we could be left as nothing but paupers."
Zhisheng growled softly but kept his gaze cast down. He spoke in a quiet, almost contemplative tone, as though sorting through his thoughts. "Truthfully, there's nothing we can do to change that. There's no point fighting the inevitable. All we'd accomplish is getting buried under an avalanche. But we can't just sit still either. As you said, he's young. He can be… taught. Show him the correct path. If he understands that everything I did was for the good of the family—and it was—he'll let go of any resentment. I'll apologize, make sure he knows that everything I did was to make him tougher. Besides... he needs me. I've led the Liu family for years, I have the experience, the connections he doesn't."
By the end of his speech, it wasn't clear if he was trying to convince her—or himself.
It didn't help.
"There's no we in this, brother," Zifan countered, her gaze unwavering, challenging. "I never made trouble for him—that was all you. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you it made me uncomfortable, but you were set in your ways. Let's not pretend otherwise—you thought Zheng would be discarded soon enough, and so you abused him. Now that he has power, you're quaking in your boots, trying to come up with ridiculous excuses to pretend the past didn't happen. It won't work. No one who ascends to such a high realm of cultivation is a fool. He must have planned this for a while. Don't think mere words will be enough to sway him."
"Mere words?" Zhisheng's voice cracked with fury as he stood up. "What I say is never just words! Was he not a worthless, pathetic excuse for a human until yesterday? Did you, or anyone else, think he'd become anything more than a burden? The same fool who sobbed every time he was asked to train with a sword or learn his numbers? Doesn't his pathetic face still make your blood boil? Well? How dare you place all this on me? Yes, I resented him! Yes, I tried to bury him—but it was for the Liu family! Every single thing I did, I did for us. Don't think ambition ever played a part! And now, now, at the end of all this, you want to throw it all on me?"
Zifan's face went cold as stone. "It was all you, brother," she shot back, her voice ringing with cold finality. "Even if he was worthless, even if he cried and brought shame to our brother's memory, there was no need to torment him, no reason to make every moment of his life a living hell. I kept my mouth shut because I didn't think it mattered, but you're delusional if you think anyone except you approved of it. Zheng is now the rightful head of the family, and here you are still, trying to plot against him. If this truly wasn't about ambition, then you'd be prostrating yourself before him by now, but instead, you're scrambling to salvage what little pride you have left. It's over, brother. He won. And whatever schemes you dream up now will only make it worse. I came here hoping we could work together—together—to put the past behind us, to advise him and get him to listen, but all you're doing is dragging me down with you. I'll not have it."
The room fell into a heavy silence after Zifan's outburst. Zhisheng stood frozen, shock and rage contorting his face, his mouth slightly parted as he processed her words. Zifan, though still fiery, seemed to regret her loss of control, yet her eyes burned with the same intensity. Zhisheng swallowed, his throat working as if he wanted to respond, but no words came. The silence thickened, pressing in on them both like an unbearable weight.
Finally, after a lingering glance at her brother—his face caught between fury and helplessness—Zifan rose, her movements sharp, deliberate, and resolute.
"This is pointless, Zhisheng," she said, her voice now quieter, but no less final. "You've already dug your own grave. I won't stay to watch you bury yourself deeper." She turned toward the door, her steps swift and decisive. The sound of her robes swishing in the air was the only sound as she made her way to the exit.
Zhisheng's eyes tracked her retreating form, but he remained silent. The door clicked shut behind her with a weighty finality that echoed in his ears.
In another part of the palace, Zheng exhaled heavily, leaning back from the Azure Moon Mirror. That had been an enlightening conversation. He had known there was tension between his aunt and uncle, but he hadn't expected it to erupt like that. A part of him felt cold satisfaction at his uncle's situation—regardless of whatever Zhisheng claimed, the man had made his life miserable out of petty ambition. Now, Zheng could watch him face the consequences.
The Liu Zheng of this world had suffered enough. He'd tried to absorb the Golden Core even when it could've meant his death. If Zheng had not transmigrated into this body, Liu Zhisheng would have likely become the head of the family, after ensuring his nephew's death.
However, the situation in the Liu family was volatile and fractured. Zheng would have to think carefully. His aunt seemed like a potential ally, but she was more of a convenient one than a true one. One thing was clear, though—he would have to settle matters with his uncle soon, one way or another. For better or worse, he couldn't let things continue as they were. Once that was dealt with, he'd have to think about the future. The story's plot loomed over him, and he needed a plan to ensure things worked out.
Liu Zheng waved aside the Mirror, letting it float by the side of his bed. He gazed out of the window at the attached garden. Its tranquil water pools, pebble paths, and blooming flowers in shades of pink, purple, and white all created a picture of serenity. A lone lotus floated atop a green pad, surrounded by lilies. Zheng looked at it and felt it mirrored his situation—here he was, the only one standing out in a house full of cultivators, a tranquil pool about to turn into a storm-tossed sea. How he navigated things from here on out would not only determine his future, but the future of the world he had found himself in.