Pain.
It was the first thing Alice felt. A sharp, raw ache throbbed through every inch of her body. Her skin stung, her ribs screamed with each breath, and the metallic taste of blood clung to her tongue. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, greeted by dappled sunlight filtering through tall, rustling trees.
Where… am I?
The question echoed through her mind, but it wasn't her voice alone that asked it. Another, softer, unfamiliar one lingered in the background—faint, like a memory. Then it all came crashing down. The betrayal. The knife. The forest. The girl's last moments.
Alice clenched her fists.
This isn't Earth.
She pushed herself up, groaning as pain lanced through her ribs. Her body was smaller, leaner, younger. When she looked down, she didn't see her familiar scars or hardened muscles. Instead, she saw slender arms, bruised and scratched, with dried blood coating her hands.
She staggered to her feet, leaning against a tree for support. Her heart beat faster—not from fear, but from the old instinct she knew so well. Assess. Adapt. Survive.
Memories trickled in. Not hers—but the girl's. A name: also Alice, oddly enough. Seventeen years old. Orphaned. Bullied. Weak. Mortal. No cultivation talent, or so they said. The perfect victim.
Tears welled in her eyes. Not from emotion, but from the overwhelming clarity of it all. She hadn't just been reborn. She had merged. Two lives fused into one. Two pains now shared.
She took a shaky breath.
"So, they left me to die here," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Big mistake."
Her hand instinctively reached to her hip for a weapon, but of course, there was none. She had no blades, no tools, no money—nothing but tattered clothes and a battered body.
She limped toward a nearby stream. Kneeling by the water's edge, she splashed the cold liquid over her face, wiping away blood and dirt. When she saw her reflection, she paused.
The girl was pretty in a delicate way—soft features, pale skin, violet eyes. But now, those eyes were sharp, haunted, focused. The gaze of a killer.
She tore off part of her sleeve and began to wrap her wounds. Her hands moved automatically—muscle memory from years of survival. She had treated worse before. Much worse.
Once the bleeding slowed, she turned her gaze toward the city in the distance. Faint smoke trails rose above rooftops, and she could just make out the gates beyond the forest edge. A low-tier city, by the girl's memories. A place where wealth and power rested in the hands of the few.
And one of those few had tried to kill her.
Alice's lips curled into a cold smile.
"You should've made sure I was dead."
She needed information, shelter, and strength. She couldn't survive long in this world as a weak mortal. Here, cultivation was everything. Strength was everything. The strong preyed on the weak—and Alice had no intention of being prey again.
But this body hadn't awakened its Qi. She was still a mortal. At least for now.
She stood, more stable this time, and began the slow walk back toward the city outskirts. The sun was already beginning its descent, casting orange light over the forest floor. As she walked, she thought.
In this world, cultivation began at seventeen. If you failed to awaken your meridians and sense Qi, you were doomed to remain powerless. But Alice had spent her life mastering her body, her breath, and her instincts. Even if she lacked talent, she had decades of discipline behind her. Meditation, focus, control—all tools she could repurpose.
Qi was energy. And if there was one thing assassins understood—it was how to control energy.
When she neared the city walls, she slipped into the shadows of the outer slums. Filthy alleys and crumbling huts lined the outer ring of the city. No guards patrolled here. No nobles dared walk these streets.
Good. This was her kind of place.
She approached a crumbling house she recognized from the girl's memories. It had no door—just rotting wood leaning in a sad excuse for shelter. Inside, a dirty mat, a broken stool, and a pile of rags.
Home.
Alice sat cross-legged on the mat, closing her eyes. Her breathing slowed. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Slow and steady. She let go of the pain. She pushed away the memories.
Instead, she focused inward.
If Qi was in the world around her, then she needed to find a way to feel it. Sense it. Touch it. Her body was weak, but her mind… her mind was a weapon.
She sat there for hours as darkness fell over the slums. Faintly, just at the edge of her senses—she felt something. Like the brush of a breeze inside her chest. Subtle. Elusive.
Her lips twitched. Not a smile. Just… recognition.
She hadn't failed. Not yet.