The shadow convulsed — gently at first, then with purpose. Its limbs stretched outward, no longer vague silhouettes but defined lines drawn from light and darkness both.
Each pulse of golden thread stitched flesh from nothingness, weaving blood and bone around a soul long fractured.
Slowly, the formless became flesh.
Fingers curled. Toes flexed. A chest rose, taking its first breath in silence.
The shadow collapsed inward, folding like mist being drawn into itself. The vague, flickering form shivered one final time before tightening, coalescing — and in its place, a figure emerged.
A young man, naked and suspended in the air, hovered in the hollowed chamber — his form serene, unmarred by the world's touch.
He looked seventeen, perhaps eighteen — tall, lean, yet not frail. His skin was pale, almost porcelain, the white of cold fire.
His hair spilled like liquid midnight down to his waist, weightless and untouched by the cave's still air. His eyes, once formless voids, — opened slowly, dreamlike— dark like ink spilled on moonlit water, deep and unreadable.
On his forehead, the mark of his rebirth bloomed quietly.
A black lotus — three petals, elegant and sharp — shimmered against his skin. It pulsed with a muted golden light, as if each flicker whispered the price of his return.
Zhou Chen — rejuvenated — floated in place, suspended in the hushed air of the hidden cave.
Then, without fanfare, his feet drifted downward, touching the stone with the silence of falling snow.
He stood still — a soul reborn, a body remade.
Zhou Chen opened his eyes fully.
The air stirred for the first time in days.
He exhaled softly, steam curling from his lips though the cave held no warmth. The cold bit at his skin, but he did not shiver.
He lifted a hand, watching the fingers move — in the dimly lit cave, elegant, slow, as if rediscovering their purpose.
His lips parted slightly, not to speak, but simply to affirm the sensation of being.
A faint frown touched his brow.
"...My cultivation is gone," he murmured.
He exhaled, neither amused nor frustrated — merely accepting.
"Thankfully... I can sense my Dantian," he muttered, a faint breath of relief threading his voice. "At least... I can start again."
He flexed the hand again, slower this time, as if syncing thought to motion. Each finger responded with strange precision — smooth, effortless, and almost alien yet not quite.
Zhou Chen looked down at himself — examining his body — at the pale skin that gleamed like polished jade, at the veins of red threading faintly beneath the surface, at the lean strength settled quietly into his limbs.
The most obvious change, his age, scars, internal and external injuries were gone. His body didn't feel like it just rewound back in time; it felt reconstructed, remade, more robust and healthy than it had ever been.
The weariness of his hundred years of life, the aching pain of his once fractured body, had disappeared. Instead, there was an unnatural vitality coursing through his veins — strong, steady, and constant.
Abnormal, though, almost unnerving in its intensity. Even without cultivation to enhance it, even without any effort to increase his lifespan, he could tell that he could live far longer than a normal.
Two hundred, maybe three hundred years… he wasn't sure, but it was enough to make him pause. This wasn't just healing, it was something more.
"A vitality-blessed constitution?" he murmured, the words forming with the taste of unfamiliar surprise on his tongue.
In the path of cultivation, a way to measure one's innate talent and potential had always been through their Spirit Qualities — the hidden gifts bestowed by Heavens and Earth. [1]
These qualities were divided into three distinct categories:
Root of Aptitude, more commonly known as the spirit root, reflected one's affinity with the Dao — their alignment with the elements of Heaven and Earth. A cultivator with a peerless root could draw upon spiritual energy with ease, cultivating faster, deeper, and more efficiently than others.
Sea of Consciousness referred to the depth and breadth of the mind and soul — the strength of spiritual perception, willpower, memory, and comprehension. It was said that those with an ocean-wide consciousness could perceive laws others couldn't fathom
And lastly — the one Zhou Chen was now most concerned with — Body Constitution.
it was the most visible, yet often the rarest to be blessed with. It determined one's physical vessel — bloodline, how much power the body could endure, store, regenerate, and unleash.
Certain rare constitutions were immune to all kinds of poison, others regenerated wounds instantly, and a few… could defy the heavens itself.
"…A change in my Spirit Qualities?" he muttered under his breath.
Before, his aptitude had been good, and his comprehension above average — but his body had always held him back, riddled with impurities and choked meridians that slowed his cultivation.
But now… now, this new form felt clean — too clean — like an empty canvas.
He couldn't sense his Spirit Qualities fully, not yet — not without cultivation, not without spiritual perception — but some things, a former cultivator could always tell. The unnatural vitality thrumming quietly beneath his skin.
Few impurities. Few clogged meridians. No lingering aches or broken flow.
"Hm… it looks like I'll need to research body constitutions," he murmured, flexing his fingers slowly.
Even with a century of cultivation behind him, Zhou Chen knew better than to assume too much. A hundred years of practice barely scratched the surface of Spirit Qualities — and what lay beneath them was a vast sea of mystery.
Even the great sects and clans with ancient legacies could not claim full understanding.
Not to mention this pill… he had never heard of anything like it. A pill that let one attain Nirvana?
"No… that wasn't a simple Nirvana", He mused.
As his thoughts reached here, Zhou Chen couldn't help but recall the dreamlike illusion — the liminal realm where consciousness felt stretched thin, where reality swam in haze.
His consciousness and memories surged. It hadn't been just a single dream, but an endless loop — a cycle repeating day after day. He had endured the same illusion hundreds of times, every time it was erased from his memory.
The illusions of long forgotten home, The home he'd left behind, the warmth of his aunt's smile, the laughter of friends and family — all of it had been erased from his life, forgotten by the passage of time. Yet in the depths of his mind, he had yearned for it.
He had thought that time would erase the past, that distance and years would make him forget. Even changing his name, had not severed that tie. His soul still reached for the world he had once known.
But now, in this state, he realized something deeper. The past was not something that could be simply erased. It was a part of him, woven into the fabric of his being.
He remembered the four shadows, A confrontation reflecting his past and present.
The shadows had shown him pieces of his soul, places of weakness, forgotten wrongs, and unresolved pains. Each iteration had cut him deeper, but each had also brought him closer to the core of his existence.
Heart demons?
He wasn't sure if they were truly heart demons or if they were simply the illusions of the pill.
"…sigh." A long breath escaped his lips, bitter and quiet.
Fortunately he was quite experienced, also In the dream, there had always been a gentle pull — subtle at first, easy to ignore.
But with each repeated cycle, its intensity grew. Day after day, the tug became harder to resist, until he finally recognized the illusion for what it was… and met the shadows that resembled himself.
Despite the turmoil rising within him, Zhou Chen felt an unexpected calm. That dream — or whatever it had truly been — had done more than torment him. It had shaped him, benefiting not only his body but his mind and soul as well.
Perhaps it wasn't meant to bring one to Nirvana directly—but to guide them toward it. A silent hand, not salvation, but a nudge forward.
Having reached this point in his thoughts, Xian — no, Zhou Chen — slowly raised his hand and touched his forehead, where the black lotus with three elegant petals marked his skin.
His lips curled a smile forming on his face.
Another gift from his recent ordeal — a brand on his soul, He didn't understand it fully, not yet. But he did understand one thing about it.
Reincarnation.
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[COMING NEXT] - CHAPTER 10 - New Reflection II.
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GLOSSARY -:-
[1] Spirit Quality (灵质) — Spirit Quality is the measure of a cultivator's innate potential, determined by three key aspects: Root of Aptitude, Sea of Consciousness, and Body Constitution. These aspects define a cultivator's ability to cultivate, perceive spiritual laws, and more.