The First Step into the Unknown

"UGH… IT HURTS!"

Agony. Pure, unrelenting agony.

It surged through me like wildfire, burning every nerve, tearing through my mind like jagged glass. My body convulsed, muscles locking as if unseen chains bound me in place. A suffocating weight crushed my chest, making each breath a battle.

Then, just as suddenly, the pain vanished—only to be replaced by something far worse.

A flood of memories that did not belong to me crashed into my consciousness.

Faces. Names. Lives.

People I had never met. Words I had never spoken. A past that was not mine.

I clutched my head, gasping, as fragments of another existence wove themselves into my mind. The sensation was unbearable, like trying to pour an ocean into a cup. Yet somehow, amidst the storm of foreign thoughts, I clung to the one thing I knew was real—myself.

When the torrent finally ebbed, I lay sprawled on the cold, hard floor, drenched in sweat, my chest heaving. My hands trembled as I forced myself upright, my breath coming in ragged gulps.

And then, it hit me.

I had transmigrated.

This wasn't my world. This wasn't my body.

Memories—ones that now felt like my own—told me the truth. This vessel belonged to a nameless outer disciple of a sect. No cultivation. No background. A nobody among thousands.

A bitter laugh escaped me. From nothing… to nothing.

But I wasn't about to let that stop me.

The air around me was thick with an unfamiliar energy, pressing against my skin like an unseen force. Everything felt sharper, more vivid. The wooden walls of my modest dwelling, the sparse furniture, even the worn-out robes clinging to my damp skin—it was all too real to be a dream.

My thoughts were interrupted by the sticky filth coating me—sweat, grime, and the remnants of whatever process had forced me into this body. Disgusted, I staggered toward the small washroom tucked in the corner and splashed cold water onto my face.

The shock of it jolted my mind into clarity.

This world… this sect… it was dangerous.

The strong ruled. The weak were trampled underfoot. If I didn't act fast, I would be just another stepping stone for some arrogant young master.

I exhaled sharply. I need power. I need a way to survive.

And as if answering my desperate thoughts, a voice echoed in my mind—clear, mechanical, and filled with an undeniable authority.

[DING!]

[TRANSMIGRATION SUCCESSFUL. SYSTEM ACTIVATED.]

[HOST: YI LIAN]

[CULTIVATION: NULL]

[SYSTEM ABILITIES: APPRAISAL, MENTAL LOCK]

[CREATION POINTS: NULL]

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. A system?

My gaze locked onto the floating translucent screen before me, its golden text pulsing faintly in the dim light. This was it—my advantage. My path forward.

My fingers twitched with anticipation as I focused on the words. Creation Points… what did that mean?

A new line of text materialized as if responding to my thoughts.

[Creation Points can be used to upgrade abilities, cultivation, and the system itself. They are earned by creating anything of value.]

I frowned, rolling the concept over in my mind. Creating anything of value? That could mean a lot of things—techniques, items, knowledge… or even influence.

A slow grin crept onto my lips. Interesting.

The exhaustion weighing down on me finally caught up, and my eyelids grew heavy. I had a million questions, but those would have to wait. Tomorrow, I would visit the sect's library and learn everything I could.

For now, I needed rest.

But as I drifted into unconsciousness, the world beyond my walls did not sleep.

A Presence in the Night

Beneath the moon's pale glow, the courtyard outside my humble dwelling was no longer empty.

A woman stood in the silver light, her presence an ethereal contrast against the darkened landscape. Her robes shimmered like liquid jade, embroidered with celestial patterns that seemed to shift with the night air. Delicate jade ornaments adorned her hair, though they did little to diminish the natural elegance that surrounded her like an aura.

She was breathtaking. And terrifying.

Because she was watching me.

Her gaze, calm yet piercing, held a knowing weight—as if she had seen everything.

With a flick of her wrist, a table and chair materialized from thin air, the faint hum of spiritual energy dispersing into the night. She seated herself gracefully, her posture relaxed, yet her expression unreadable.

She was waiting.

CHIRP. CHIRP.

The morning sun bathed my room in a soft golden hue as birdsong filled the air. I stretched, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and pulled on my robes.

Today was the start of my new life. I needed to—

CREAK.

I stiffened. The door to my courtyard had opened on its own.

A chill crawled down my spine as I stepped outside—only to freeze at the sight before me.

Seated at a table that hadn't existed last night was a woman too beautiful to belong to this world. Her robes shimmered like the morning sky, her presence as serene as a still lake. Yet despite her calm demeanor, the intensity of her gaze made my blood run cold.

I swallowed hard and forced my expression into respectful neutrality. Who was she? Why was she here?

Lowering my head slightly, I spoke, keeping my tone polite. "May I ask what brings you here, Senior?"

She tilted her head, studying me like a puzzle piece that didn't quite fit. Then, she smiled.

"May I ask something first?"

Her voice was gentle, almost melodic, but there was something beneath it—a sharpness, a weight.

I straightened. "Of course, Senior."

Her next words were deceptively simple, yet they sent my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Who are you, and why are you here?"

A question so basic, yet it carried an undeniable pressure.

My mouth went dry. Did she… know?

I forced a calm breath. "I am Yi Lian, an outer disciple of the sect."

She smiled again, this time with amusement. "And?"

I felt ice coil around my gut. She knows.

Desperate for answers, I mentally activated Appraisal on her.

[ERROR: HOST IS TOO WEAK TO USE APPRAISAL ON THIS TARGET.]

[HOST HAS BEEN DETECTED.]

My blood turned to ice.

Her gaze sharpened. "So, you tried to pry into my identity?"

I opened my mouth to deny it, but she simply raised a hand. "Enough."

Silence stretched between us, suffocating and absolute. Then, with a measured sigh, she leaned back in her chair.

"You've done well to adapt so quickly," she mused. "Most would have been consumed by the process."

My fingers curled into fists. She had seen it. My transmigration.

I forced myself to ask the question clawing at my mind. "Why are you here?"

Her gaze softened—just slightly. "Because you intrigue me."

Then, with a voice that left no room for refusal, she declared:

"I have decided to take you as my disciple."

My heart slammed against my ribs.

This was no simple offer. This was a binding fate.

And I had no choice but to accept.