Within an hour, a faint thread of qi, pure and white as starlight, began to circulate. It didn't just fill his dantian; it reforged his bone marrow. A kick shattered his door.
"You have three breaths to leave," Han Feng said, his voice echoing with a weight that shouldn't belong to a boy. "One for your life. One for your soul. And one for the mercy I no longer possess." Cultivation Story: Reincarnation
Han Feng stood atop the Peak of Longevity, his white robes fluttering like a dying bird's wings. He had spent nine hundred years chasing the Dao, stepping over the corpses of rivals and sacrificing the warmth of human connection for the cold clarity of power. Now, at the threshold of godhood, he realized the foundation of his soul was cracked. Within an hour, a faint thread of qi,