He was sixteen again. This was the Han family estate in the backwater town of Qinghe, moments before the tragedy that had fueled his original rise.
The thug laughed, lunging forward with a heavy fist. Han Feng’s hand moved like a blur, not striking, but merely tapping the man’s wrist. CRACK. Cultivation Story: Reincarnation
As the final bolt of Violet Destructive Lightning descended—a pillar of light capable of erasing even a soul—Han Feng did not raise his jade sword. Instead, he reached into his dantian and shattered his own Immortal Core. Using the explosion of a millennium’s worth of qi, he forced a forbidden art: the Samsara Reversal. Han Feng woke to the smell of damp earth and cheap incense. He was sixteen again
He sat cross-legged. His meridians were clogged with worldly impurities, "trash" by his former standards. But he knew secrets the current world had forgotten. He didn't practice the basic Iron Skin technique his family provided. Instead, he breathed according to the Breath of the Primordial Chaos —a technique he’d looted from an ancient god’s tomb in the Higher Realms. Han Feng’s hand moved like a blur, not
"Hey, trash! Your father owes the Hall three hundred spirit stones," a burly man sneered, stepping into the room. It was the same thug who, in the original timeline, had broken Han Feng’s ribs and dragged Ling’er away. Han Feng didn't stand up. He didn't even open his eyes.
The thug screamed as his own momentum shattered his arm. But the scream was cut short. Han Feng stood, his aura suddenly expanding like a waking dragon. The air in the small shack grew cold.