Velyth, after a few seconds, finally rose from the rocking chair, making it creak in protest. As he stood up, he couldn't help but stagger slightly between short steps, a strange sense of discontinuity trailing his every move.
This was due to the fact that a soul originally from another body needed time to adapt to the new vessel it was placed in. Of course, Velyth — with his soul and mind freshly transmigrated into a new body — would struggle with motor functions at first.
His mind was ready, naturally. The same couldn't be said for his physical body.
His body — unlike his memory and brain, which had adapted to the cycle of death and rebirth — always returned to the exact state it was in when he was first brought into this world.
In short, his physique was equivalent to that of a normal 17-year-old with only the bare minimum of health.
And that was bad. Physical health had always been a concern in the endless cycles of this cursed adventure he had been thrown into. For obvious reasons — but also for far more complex ones...
...it was one of the main things Velyth had to worry about now.
Velyth, after scanning the corners of the starting house where everything always began, eyed the palm of his hand sharply.
Opening and closing it repeatedly, he noticed that the sense of discontinuity slowly faded as time passed.
Good. It seemed like this time, he wouldn't take too long to adapt.
He then looked firmly at the refined wooden door at the end of the house.
"...Guess that's it," he muttered as he walked toward it. He had time — as much as he needed, really.
It wasn't like the cycle of death and rebirth would stop from that point onward, but he was determined to fulfill his goals. He wouldn't waste a single moment at the beginning of this damn game.
Without further delay, the door creaked open — and he stepped outside.
---
Velyth descended the three wooden steps of the porch, stepping onto the packed earth and feeling the familiar crunch of dry soil beneath his feet. The morning breeze brushed against his skin, carrying with it the faint scent of herbal tea, wood smoke, and dew-dampened foliage. That same smell. Always the same.
The weathered wooden houses formed a familiar maze. Lanterns hung by the doors, children ran through the alleys, and old men chatted under porches — as if time itself refused to move forward in that place.
Everything was where it should be: the dog sleeping near the broken fence, the drunkard slumped over a barrel, the healer silently rubbing herbs. Just like always.
As he examined even the tiniest details of the scenery — confirming that some things would forever remain unchanged across the many lives he had lived — he let out a bitter laugh.
With a long sigh, drawing in the cold and calming scent of the village, he murmured:
"Heh... What else could I expect from yet another new beginning...?"
Qiyan loomed over the world like a persistent memory. Isolated by the Tianhae Mountains and surrounded by dense forests, it was a forgotten point on the map, yet filled with whispers of ancient spirits. Superstition to some — absolute truth to others...
The village of Qiyan lay in the eastern region of the central continent, Eurasian — a vast land divided into three major zones: East, Central, and North.
Velyth, being someone from another world, couldn't help but notice how that entire continent resembled both Asia and Europe from his original world — especially the eastern region, where the similarity was most apparent.
Even the name "Eurasian" felt like a deliberate blend of those two worlds.
Following the dirt road, he passed by the healer's tent, the smithy where old Wu hammered metal like a sacred ritual, and the small temple raised in honor of deities he had never seen — but who, in one of his lives, had spoken to him in dreams. Or madness. After so many cycles, it was hard to tell the difference.
"I remember thinking those words were just nonsense back then..." he murmured with a faint smirk. "Maybe that's why I failed that time?"
He walked on, hands in his pockets and eyes distant — like someone who's seen the same movie too many times to care about the ending.
Velyth exited the village through the back path, following a narrow trail few others ever used. Between moss-covered stones and thick roots entwined like sleeping serpents, he moved with light steps, weaving around obstacles as one would when walking a well-known route. Because, in fact, he had.
'This path... always so quiet. Even after so many lives, it hasn't changed one bit,' he thought, brushing aside a branch that obscured his view.
Few knew of the place. Even fewer dared to approach. It wasn't exactly forbidden, but something in the air — in the density of the energy — seemed to dissuade the curious. For Velyth, however, that isolated point was one of the few "shortcuts" he could use.
After climbing a rock formation covered in lichen — one that looked like a crumbling wall long claimed by nature — he finally arrived. A hidden clearing, surrounded by ancient trees whose thick canopies allowed only subtle shafts of golden light to filter through. The air there was different. Heavier. Charged. As if the world itself was breathing in that place.
He sat at the center of the clearing, atop a flat moss-covered stone. He crossed his legs, straightened his posture, and let out a weary yet focused sigh.
"Still about a week left until the admission test at Tianhae Cultivation Academy. Until then, I at least need to refine my portals a bit..." he muttered to himself.
Sitting at the heart of the clearing, Velyth inhaled the dense, humid air around him. The sound of rustling leaves was the only noise — as if the world itself held its breath with him.
He closed his eyes.
Within himself, he sensed the presence of the Soul Portal — one of the three gates that defined a cultivator's path. It manifested as a pale, distant moon, wavering between slumber and awakening.
Refining a portal like the Soul Portal wasn't a simple task. For most ordinary people — the so-called "talentless" — it could take years. Decades. Especially for something as delicate as the soul. But the truth was, with the right means — the right techniques, the right experience, or the right bonds — even the impossible could be done.
Velyth had all of that. And more.
He had a thousand lives of attempts, failures, and broken triumphs etched into his soul.
He took a deep breath, and with a faint pulse of energy, began the process.
There was no pain. No torment. It was like guiding a brush across an ancient canvas, one where every line had already been drawn — he only had to repaint it.
The pulses around him gently connected to his being. The Soul Portal, once dormant, began to spin. Slowly. Steadily. Like a whisper coming back to life.
When he opened his eyes, the world remained the same. But he did not.
"One step at a time..." he thought, a faint smile forming on his lips.