Rebirth of the Celestial Swordmaster

Darkness. Thick, suffocating, endless.

There was no sense of time, no beginning or end. In this vast emptiness, a fragmented soul drifted aimlessly, lost in the void. It had no name, no identity—only the vague sensation that it had once been someone… someone important.

Then, a flicker of light appeared. Small at first, barely noticeable, but growing steadily. It pulsed with an energy both familiar and foreign. As it approached, a surge of fragmented memories flooded the soul’s consciousness.

Flashes of clashing swords. Explosions of celestial energy. A grand sect rising above the clouds. Then… pain. Excruciating pain, tearing through flesh and soul alike. Betrayal. Shock. Blood pooling on cold stone.

Then… nothingness.

But this time, something was different.

The soul felt itself being drawn toward the light. There was no resistance, no fear—only a sense of inevitability, as if fate itself had decided to grant it another chance.

A sharp gasp shattered the silence as air rushed into unfamiliar lungs. His chest heaved violently, and a cold sweat trickled down his forehead. Pain shot through his body, muscles trembling as if they hadn’t been used in years.  

He blinked rapidly, his vision blurry, struggling to make sense of his surroundings. A wooden ceiling loomed above him, cracked and decaying. The walls were barely standing, covered in dust and rot.  

He tried to sit up, but weakness weighed him down. Looking at his hands, he found them frail, scarred, and covered in old bruises. These were not his hands.  

Then, foreign memories seeped into his mind—not his own, but those of another. This body belonged to a boy named **Luo Qing**, an orphan living in a remote village at the very edge of the cultivation world. He was weak, talentless, ridiculed by others, barely surviving on scraps.  

But now, this body was no longer Luo Qing’s.  

"Lin Xiao… that is my true name."

The realization struck like a thunderclap—he had died in his past life, only to awaken in a new body.

Before he could fully grasp his situation, a strange sensation stirred within him. A faint pulse of energy, weak but unmistakable.

"A soul fragment?"

Ignoring the lingering pain, he forced himself to stand. His steps were unsteady, but his determination was unwavering.

Exiting the run-down hut, he followed the pull of the energy, his surroundings a blur. The village was barely alive, with only a handful of elderly farmers tending to the barren fields. No one paid him any attention.

The sensation led him into the nearby forest, where towering trees cast long, eerie shadows. The air was thick with mist, the silence almost oppressive. But Lin Xiao did not hesitate.

At last, he found it.

A small fragment of light hovered over a moss-covered stone, pulsating gently. As he reached out, warmth surged through his fingertips. The moment he touched it, a powerful vision overtook his mind.

(Within the Memory)

A grand hall bathed in golden lantern light. Lin Xiao stood before the sect’s elder, a man whose gaze carried both wisdom and sorrow.  

"Lin Xiao," the elder’s voice was heavy, as if burdened by an unspeakable truth. "Sometimes, our greatest enemies are the ones we trust the most."

Before Lin Xiao could respond, a sudden, piercing pain erupted in his back. Cold steel tore through his flesh, sliding through his chest.  

The shock paralyzed him. Slowly, he turned his head—only to meet the emotionless eyes of Qing Yu, his closest friend, his sworn brother.  

The sword in Qing Yu’s hand was slick with Lin Xiao’s blood.  

"I'm sorry, Lin Xiao."

Then, darkness swallowed everything.

Lin Xiao snapped back to reality, his breath ragged, his heart pounding in his chest.

Sweat dripped down his temples as he clenched his fists.

"Qing Yu… you killed me."

The bitterness of betrayal burned within him, but he forced it down. Now was not the time for revenge—he was far too weak.

But that would change.

With the recovery of this shard, a fraction of his past strength had returned. It was small, but it was a start.

As he turned to leave the forest, the snap of a branch made him freeze. His senses sharpened instantly.  

A pair of glowing eyes stared at him from the darkness.  

A Spirit Wolf

The beast growled, stepping forward with slow, deliberate movements. It wasn’t powerful, only a first-rank beast, but for a mortal body like Luo Qing’s, it was still a lethal threat.  

But he was not Luo Qing.

Lin Xiao inhaled deeply, feeling the faint energy coursing through his veins. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.  

The wolf lunged.  

Lin Xiao shifted his weight, sidestepping the attack with surprising precision. As the beast landed, he moved—his palm striking forward, infused with the meager spiritual energy he had just regained.  

A small explosion of force—then a sickening crack.

The wolf collapsed, its body twitching before finally going still.  

Lin Xiao stood over it, his expression unreadable. He was weak, yes, but even in this state, he had fought.  

"This is only the beginning."

When he returned to the village, his posture was different. His steps were no longer hesitant.

This body may have once belonged to Luo Qing, but the soul within it was Lin Xiao—a once-revered genius of the Celestial Sword Sect, a man betrayed and left for dead.

There was a long road ahead. He had to regain his strength, uncover the truth behind his past, and reclaim every last fragment of his soul.

But one thing was certain.

"I will reclaim what was lost… and when the time comes, I will no longer be a mere genius. I will become a legend."