Beneath a towering cliff, a stone platform lay soaked in dried blood. A figure, broken and barely breathing, was sprawled across it. Her face was pale, deformed from the impact of the fall, and blood had clotted around her lips—evidence that she'd been lying there for some time.
Her limbs were twisted unnaturally, bones clearly shattered. Yet despite being in a half-dead state, her half-open eyes burned with an unyielding will to live. Rage, sorrow, and helplessness churned within them like a storm.
How did it come to this?
She tried to remember—her thoughts blurred, flickering like dying embers. She had worked so hard to earn a place in the inner sect, fought tooth and nail to improve her cultivation. And now, it was all gone.
Betrayed... by those she trusted most.
The people she had once called comrades, her only friend among them, had turned on her. The very person she'd confided in had been the one to orchestrate her downfall. And worst of all, they had stripped her of her cultivation before throwing her off this cliff—ensuring she would die in agony and despair.
Tears welled in her eyes. So foolish... so naïve.
She had always believed that sincerity would be repaid with sincerity. But the cultivation world didn't reward kindness—it devoured it.
Her vision dimmed.
Then, faintly, a silver glow flickered on her forehead—a crescent moon pattern, long dormant, now pulsing with eerie light.
> "Do you wish to burn once more?"
The voice was ancient, resonating not in her ears, but directly in her mind. Authoritative. Cold. Unfathomably vast.
Li Qingyue's heart trembled. Was someone there? She tried to move her head, but even that simple action sent waves of unbearable pain through her body.
> "Do you seek revenge?"
The voice echoed again, deep and commanding. Not a hallucination. Not her imagination. Something... no, someone... was speaking to her.
Her eyes widened ever so slightly.
Revenge... Yes. She wanted revenge.
But her jaw wouldn't move. Her lips couldn't form the words. A strangled breath escaped her as her body convulsed in pain.
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. Her chest heaved in desperation.
Then, the pain surged.
A burning sensation erupted from her core, searing through her bones, her veins, her soul. It felt like something was igniting within her—tearing her apart from the inside out.
Was this death? No—this was worse than death.
She screamed in silence, her mind fraying from the torment. And then—sudden stillness.
No pain. No sound. No body.
Only the void.
She drifted in endless nothingness, her senses severed from reality. The silence was deafening. Time meant nothing here.
And then—
A pull. A force beyond comprehension yanked her forward.
The next moment, warmth. Familiarity. A scent she hadn't smelled in years.
She could feel her body again. Her hands. Her breath. Her heartbeat.
Voices. Muffled, but gentle. Soothing.
Mother?
Her eyes fluttered open.
A wooden ceiling greeted her—faintly cracked, with a small spider web in the corner. She knew this ceiling. She had stared at it countless nights as a child.
Her room. From her childhood.
No… this couldn't be.
She shot upright in bed, her breathing erratic. Pain flared in her chest from the sudden movement.
Outside her door, she heard voices. Her mother's soft, worried tone. Another older voice—familiar. The village physician?
Still dazed, she pushed open the door.
There they stood.
Her mother, looking younger than she remembered, her brows furrowed with concern. Beside her, the grey-haired physician held a bundle of herbs and turned with surprise.
"Qingyue!" Her mother rushed forward, catching her before she stumbled.
"Are you alright, child? Does anything hurt?"
Her voice trembled, her hands gently checking Qingyue's forehead, her arms, her pulse.
"I-I'm fine… mother," Qingyue said slowly, her voice hoarse and uncertain. "Just a little dizzy."
The physician stepped closer, placing a hand on her wrist.
"She took quite the fall from that tree," he said gently. "You should let her rest. The bruising isn't too bad, and no fractures."
Her mother nodded. "I told you not to climb those trees so high. You're always so wild…"
"I'm sorry," Qingyue whispered, but her mind was elsewhere.
She remembered everything.
The betrayal. The cliff. The death.
Was it all a dream?
No—it couldn't be. The pain, the faces, the emotions—too vivid, too real. She could still feel the rage burning in her heart.
But this world… this was from long ago.
She clenched her fists. Her body was small again. Her cultivation base—gone. She was truly back in her younger self.
Reincarnation?
How is this possible?
Yet, the warmth in her mother's embrace was real. As were the familiar scents of home.
For now, she wouldn't question it.
She had been given a second chance.
And this time—
She wouldn't be naïve.
She wouldn't be weak.
She would rise again.
And when she did—those who had wronged her would pay in blood.
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