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.
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. This was the Han family estate in the backwater town of Qinghe, moments before the tragedy that had fueled his original rise.
