Chapter 2

"He's still not back yet?" Liu Zhisheng's voice remained steady, but his fingers tightened on the documents before him. His attention was mostly absorbed by the papers— the merchant caravan was nearing, and deals made last year had to be renegotiated. The Liu family had settled for far too little last time, but this year, the balance of power was shifting. Fan Bailang would soon learn that he was dealing with a man who would stand at the Golden Core realm by this time next year. When that day came, everything would fall into place.

But first, there was this one lingering irritation to deal with.

"No, no sign of him," Liu Zifan replied, her tone equally calm, though her eyes betrayed a hint of concern.

Zhisheng's gaze shifted to his younger sister. While he might be older, his age was less obvious than hers. In cultivation, youth and vitality were preserved through one's realm, and he had reached Foundation Establishment at a younger age than Zifan. The result: his appearance seemed untouched by time, while she, having entered cultivation later, had not been so fortunate. Of course, compared to their late elder brother, both of them might as well have been children, for his unrivaled talent had set the standard. None of that had passed down to Zheng, his useless son.

Zhisheng grunted, irritation flashing across his face. He hadn't expected his good-for-nothing nephew to stay away from the family estate for even a night. Perhaps, he thought bitterly, he had been too generous in his assumption. The boy probably tripped in the woods and knocked himself out, or worse. At least he was alive. Otherwise, the Liu family's prized possession—the golden core—would have made its way to the shrine by now. No, the boy was likely crying in some corner, filling Zhisheng with disgust. Compared to his older brother, Zheng was a walking disappointment.

In a strange way, that worked to Zhisheng's advantage. After his brother's death, Zhisheng had never imagined he would stand at the forefront of the Liu family's leadership, but here he was, on the cusp of rising to the occasion. Just one more year, and he would step out from the shadow of his brother's legacy, no longer haunted by expectations that had never been his own.

"Should I send someone to search for him?" Zifan asked, her voice holding a subtle challenge.

Zhisheng turned his attention back to her. He knew well that his sister had always disapproved of his treatment of their nephew. Yet, she had never openly defied him, always choosing quiet insinuations over outright rebellion. He allowed it—after all, family warranted some level of tolerance for subtle discontent.

Zhisheng glanced at the stack of documents again, but his thoughts wandered. What to do about his nephew? Zheng's absence would not go unpunished, but dealing with it personally seemed beneath him. Thankfully, he had a more efficient solution. Zhang, his son, would handle it and ensure that Zheng understood his place.

"What's the point?" Zhisheng waved dismissively. "Let Zhang deal with it. He's more than capable. As for us…" He turned back to the documents. "These numbers don't add up. I wager that old fox, Fan Bailang, will try to haggle me down again—"

Before he could finish, an oppressive aura suddenly descended on the palace.

Liu Zhisheng's demeanor shifted instantly. He rose from his chair, every fiber of his being attuned to the presence now lingering in the air. It was unmistakable—the unmistakable pressure of a cultivator at the Golden Core realm.

Zifan's expression faltered. Her spiritual sense flared outward, and she joined her brother in focusing on the presence now suffusing the city like an approaching storm.

"I don't recall us expecting a visit from a Golden Core realm expert," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "This is... unannounced. And by the feel of it, whoever this is, they are not pleased. What should we do?"

Zhisheng's mind raced. By protocol, every cultivator in the Golden Core realm was at least a Viscount in the empire. That meant this visitor was a noble of equal rank to the Liu family. Unfortunately, the Liu family no longer had a Golden Core cultivator of their own. They were a Viscount family only in name, a hollow title.

He had no idea who this guest was, but he couldn't afford to offend them, even in the slightest. An enraged Golden Core cultivator could easily reduce the city to rubble. The Emperor would eventually intervene, but that would be little comfort to those left dead. No, Zhisheng would have to handle this personally, extending every courtesy to this unannounced guest, hoping to appease them.

He hadn't expected this, not today, and certainly not in this manner. The aura radiating from this guest was unfamiliar, but it was undeniably potent. It wasn't the calm, measured presence of his late brother. No, this felt more like a tempest, held back only by a thin thread. This guest, whoever they were, was not to be taken lightly.

"I'll go," Zhisheng said, his tone clipped. "Prepare our finest rooms and make sure every corner of the palace is spotless. Zhang will serve as cupbearer. Forget Zheng—he can wait."

Zifan nodded, her face pale but resolute, and darted from the room to carry out his orders.

Zhisheng let out a slow, controlled breath. He needed to appear composed. He needed to take control of the situation before it spiraled out of hand.

With a swift motion, he opened his spatial pouch and pulled out a delicate jade boat, intricately carved and adorned with gold filigree. He infused it with his qi, and it expanded, growing large enough for him to ride. Stepping onto the boat, he thought a command, and it soared from the window, cutting through the air toward the source of the pressure.

................

Zheng's frustration grew with every passing minute as the day dragged on. Absorbing the memories of Liu Zheng from this world had been a headache—both literally and figuratively—and things had only gotten worse since then. Not only did he have to adapt to a completely new world, full of unfamiliar customs and ways, but he also had to do so while pretending to be the old Liu Zheng. The burden was starting to feel unbearable.

Zheng clenched his fists, his jaw tight. The memories he had inherited from Liu Zheng were a constant weight, pulling him under. Every moment spent pretending to be the old Liu Zheng made him feel more like a ghost than a man. He couldn't let go of the act—possessions and soul-stealing were real here, and the rumors of ghosts snatching promising cultivators to feast on their souls were widespread. He knew better than to risk it. If he slipped up, the Empire would step in to "exorcise" him, and that would spell trouble for everyone involved.

He had hoped that once he arrived in Green Bamboo City, things would improve, but it didn't take long to realize just how naïve he'd been. His first encounter with someone—a woodcutter, judging by the man's worn clothes—had ended with the man falling to his knees and prostrating before him at the mere sight of his face. No amount of persuasion could make the man stop. Every attempt to get him to look Zheng in the eye was met with frantic mutterings of, "I am unworthy. Please spare me, great lord."

It was maddening. Despite the memories of this world's customs that had been implanted in his mind, nothing made sense. Every person he'd encountered had reacted the same way, and it only made things worse. It wasn't until the tenth person had bowed in a similar fashion that Zheng realized his mistake. He was unknowingly releasing his aura at full strength.

No wonder they'd all fallen to their knees. Higher realm cultivators in this world typically suppressed their aura to avoid overwhelming their juniors, but Zheng—still adjusting to his new body and environment—had forgotten to do so. Worse still, when he tried to rein it in, he failed. His aura slipped through his grasp like water from a clenched fist. The tighter he tried to hold onto it, the more slippery it became. This wasn't something he could fix on a whim; he had to master it until it felt second nature. How aggravating!

As he wondered whether to simply make his way to the Liu family palace, a whistling sound cut through the air. Zheng glanced up, wondering what it was, only to see a flying boat heading his way. He stared, momentarily baffled. He knew that flying tools were common in this world, but it was one thing to be aware of them and another to witness one in motion. The boat was a beautiful green, as though carved from a single piece of glossy jade, with golden filigree trimming the edges. But it was the man riding it that truly captured Zheng's attention.

At the exact moment Zheng noticed him, Liu Zhisheng—flying on his boat—spotted him as well. And if Zheng had been worried and confused, it was nothing compared to the shock on his uncle's face. Liu Zhisheng looked like someone had told him the sky was green and the moon was made of tofu. He was completely taken aback, his face frozen in disbelief.

Zheng's stomach churned at the sight of his uncle's expression. Fear and anxiety gripped him for a moment, and instinctively, he felt the urge to look down, to shrink in on himself and show some form of submission. But he resisted, forcing himself to meet his uncle's gaze, refusing to let the instinct to cower take over. He had to remember that he was the one with the power here. A newly minted Golden Core cultivator, the gap between him and his uncle wasn't just wide—it was a gaping abyss. There would be no reprimands, no punishment, and certainly no obedience on his part.

He couldn't afford to let his uncle see his uncertainty. Not now. Not ever.

The boat hovered just above the ground, and Zhisheng landed smoothly in the courtyard. The soft click of his boots against the stone echoed through the air as he disembarked. His gaze swept over the surroundings before landing on the figure standing before him.

There was no mistaking it. Standing before him was none other than his nephew, Liu Zheng—the same Liu Zheng who had been missing for the past day. The same Liu Zheng who, under normal circumstances, could barely hold himself together. And yet, now, before Zhisheng, stood the boy radiating an unmistakable aura—one that felt unmistakably like that of a Golden Core cultivator.

Zhisheng's mind raced as he tried to piece it together, but the picture wouldn't form. His nephew—who could barely scrape through basic training—was now radiating the aura of a Golden Core cultivator. He felt something in his chest tighten, a surge of indignation. Impossible. This boy had always been a shadow of his brother. The very thought of him reaching the Golden Core realm was an insult to his memory.

Zhisheng's first instinct was to demand an explanation, to shake the boy until he told him what had happened. This… this was the Golden Core cultivator who had been exerting the pressure, the one Zhisheng had braced himself to greet with all the protocol due to a fellow noble?

Liu Zheng?

It was impossible. His nephew—the one who had always been a disappointment, a shadow of the brother he had lost—was standing before him, emanating power, yet utterly unfamiliar in his presence. The boy had never exuded such an aura before. Not even close. Something had changed, but how? And when? Had he… had he somehow absorbed the Golden Core in his possession and succeeded? No, that was impossible. As impossible as his nephew ascending to the Golden Core realm… or so the treacherous voice in the back of Zhisheng's mind whispered.

"Uncle," said Zheng, his voice cutting through the confusion in Zhisheng's mind. His expression was mild, and he had already replaced his stunned expression with one of casual indifference. "What an unexpected surprise. I wasn't expecting you to show up."

"Zheng?" Zhisheng tried to keep his voice steady, though his brow furrowed in disbelief, his confusion growing. "Is it really you? What has happened to you?"

Zheng shrugged, doing his best to look supremely unconcerned with the situation at hand. "What do you mean, uncle? Are you perhaps referring to my rise in cultivation? Then, there is no mystery. Yesterday, I felt a wave of enlightenment engulf me, and I cultivated throughout the night until I reached the fifth stage of Qi condensation. After that, I thought it best to strike while the iron was hot, and decided to absorb the golden core father passed down to me. As you can see, I succeeded."

There was a momentary silence following that absurd story. Zhisheng's expression had grown progressively darker with every word out of Zheng's mouth. He felt like his nephew was mocking him, telling him to swallow this idiotic fable without complaint. After all, who ever heard of someone receiving enlightenment out of nowhere and jumping two stages in their cultivation? His pride was stinging, mixed with the tension of having to entertain a Golden Core cultivator. This… this was a slap in his face. His nephew, of all people.

Anger flared within him, and his voice cracked like a whip.

"You dare! Have you gone mad, boy? There is no way a pathetic wretch like you can rise to the Golden Core realm. Tell me the truth now, or I swear, I will make you beg me for release before I am done with you." His chest heaved with that outburst, a vein twitching at his temple. His aura exploded out of him, flattening everything in its path.

Zheng stood untouched. His uncle's released aura washed around him like a few raindrops splattering uselessly against a mountain rampart. Zheng's expression turned cold, his eyes narrowing. He shifted his weight, finally giving his uncle the full attention he had earned.

The focused aura of a Golden Core cultivator solely upon Zhisheng was enough to make his knees buckle. He wheezed, disbelief overtaking him as he was driven to his knees by Zheng's aura. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his Qi, which had been honed and ready, became turgid and heavy in his meridians. His power slowed, and then froze, leaving him alone and vulnerable in the gaze of what seemed like an apex predator.

He couldn't even make a sound.

"You'll do what?" Zheng's voice was like ice. "Repeat that, Uncle. I'm afraid I didn't catch it properly the first time."

Zhisheng, still reeling from the weight of Zheng's aura, struggled to regain his composure. His breath was shallow, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he knelt on the stone ground. He looked up at Zheng, eyes wide with disbelief and fear, but his pride still urged him to speak. He opened his mouth, but Zheng cut him off before the words could escape.

"No," Zheng's voice was as cold and sharp as a blade, his eyes piercing. "Save your words for later. We'll deal with this in the palace."

He didn't wait for a response, his gaze unwavering. He didn't even seem to acknowledge the fact that Zhisheng was still kneeling, humbled by the pressure of his aura.

"Take us by boat," Zheng ordered, his tone firm.

Zhisheng's mind was in chaos. The world around him felt as if it were spinning. What was happening? This was Liu Zheng, the same Liu Zheng who could barely hold a sword, standing before him as a Golden Core cultivator. His own power, once so absolute, now felt meaningless in the face of Zheng's cold authority. He was acutely aware of the deep, crushing divide between them—a divide that hadn't existed just days ago.

"…Yes, nephew," Zhisheng muttered, his voice laced with reluctant submission. "Of course, I'll take you there."

As Zhisheng rose, his thoughts swirled in confusion and concern. What was happening? How had Liu Zheng—this useless weakling—transformed so quickly? And the Golden Core… was it truly his? Had he somehow stolen another, absorbed it in a way that was beyond understanding? Was this some trick? Or worse—had he been deceived by some dark force, and now Zheng was a puppet, an empty shell? There were too many questions, and no answers were forthcoming.

But one thing was clear: the power Zheng exuded was real. The transformation was undeniable. His nephew had become someone unrecognizable, and now, the very air seemed to bend around him, warping Zhisheng's once sure-footed reality into something terrifying.

Zheng's thoughts, however, weren't concerned with his uncle's turmoil. His mind was preoccupied with something else—something far more important. As he looked at his uncle, still reeling from the shock, Zheng found himself reflecting on the influence of the "Zheng" from this world. The memories of Liu Zheng he had inherited were more than just vague recollections; they had shaped his thoughts and actions. The original's feelings of helplessness, the constant need to prove himself… it had all bled into his own behavior.

The way he'd handled Zhisheng, the fear that gripped him in that first moment of recognition, it wasn't all Zheng. It was a blend of the two personalities—the old Liu Zheng, with his crushed spirit, and Zheng, the person who had been thrust into a power he had no intention of wielding in this way.

He hadn't planned to treat his uncle like that, to display such dominance. The old Liu Zheng, after all, had been a victim of this very man's disdain. But the memories of his suffering had driven him, propelled him to act in a way that felt natural but also deeply unsettling. It was as if he were caught in the wake of someone else's emotions, swept along with them, unable to break free from their hold.

He let out a breath, shaking off the discomfort. He couldn't afford to be distracted. Not now.

"Let's go," Zheng said, making tone sharper, his gaze sweeping toward where the boat waited.

Zhisheng, still on edge, quickly nodded and turned to lead the way. He was barely able to suppress the knot in his stomach as he stepped onto the boat, the motion of the craft lifting into the air and breaking free of the earth's hold. The familiar feeling of weightlessness, of defying gravity, should have been a source of comfort, but all Zhisheng could focus on was the cold, unyielding aura of his nephew pressing against him from behind.

Zheng, meanwhile, stood still, his expression neutral. It was his first time flying—in this body, at least. He had no real knowledge of how to control the air or the boat, but he couldn't let that show. He had to appear composed, even though every part of him wanted to experience the excitement of flight.

His first flight. He had imagined it would feel more exhilarating, more freeing. But it didn't. As the boat rose higher, Zheng didn't feel a rush of thrill. Instead, there was a strange tightness in his chest. His expression remained calm, his posture rigid. He had to maintain control, had to appear unaffected. Any slip, any sign of hesitation, and Zhisheng would notice.

He couldn't let his guard down. Not now, when everything had changed.

As they soared through the sky, the landscape of Green Bamboo City spread out below them. Yet Zheng couldn't quite bring himself to appreciate the view. His thoughts were focused elsewhere: on the Golden Core, on the authority he now held, and on the unfamiliar yet familiar nature of this new life. The memories of Liu Zheng—a life that had never truly been his—lingered at the edges of his mind, reminding him of the tension between who he was and who he had been.

Shaking his distracting thoughts off, Zheng turned his gaze toward his uncle. The man was still visibly shaken, his eyes flickering between Zheng and the sky, as though trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

Zheng narrowed his eyes. "Focus, uncle. Don't waste our time."

Zhisheng's response was automatic, his words stiff. "Of course, nephew. I'll take us to the palace right away."

Zheng gave a slight nod. No more words were necessary.

As the boat sliced through the air, Zheng couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before he truly became his own person in this world. How long before he was no longer caught in the shadow of the past?

He couldn't answer that yet, but one thing was certain—he would get there.

And as for his uncle, well… he would deal with him in his own time.