The Dao Of Time

Wei  Zhong opened his eyes to the soft rustle of spirit grass beneath a pale morning sky and realized he’d been born into a frail, withering body. Three days. That was all the time he had. Yet a quiet certainty settled in his chest. He carried a forbidden gift: the Art of Temporal Exchange. By giving up a sliver of his hard‑won cultivation, he could roll back his own life, buying precious years. With a steady breath, he relinquished his Eighth‑Layer cultivation and felt ten years’ worth of vitality flood back into his veins. Weaker in his realm, perhaps—but alive in every sense.