Qin Zang struggled to open his eyes, his blurred vision gradually focusing on a spartan room containing nothing but a simple bed.
"With my sword, I knocked upon the Celestial Gate, only to perish body and soul beneath the Nine Mystic Cataclysms. Yet here I am, reborn ten thousand years later."
Qin Zang—Master of the Ten Thousand Swords Divine Sect, the undisputed supreme swordsman of his era, peerless across the Divine Land. Ten millennia ago, he had sought to transcend mortality by challenging the heavens, only to be obliterated by divine retribution. Now, after ages of upheaval, he found himself alive once more.
"Though this body is in a wretched state," he mused with a frown.
His tendons were severed, rendering him as immobile as a corpse. Worse yet, a venomous energy festered within his dantian, gnawing at his organs. Without potent remedies, he wouldn’t last ten days.
*Creak!*
The door swung open abruptly. Squinting, Qin Zang saw a young woman in cyan robes stride in. Her features were passable, but her expression was laced with such malice it seemed she’d gladly slit his throat.
"Enjoying the taste of the Five Toxins Powder, you lecherous scum?" she sneered.
*Lecherous scum?*
*Ah, so the original owner of this body had some of my old flair,* Qin Zang mused. His gaze swept over her with deliberate leisure, lingering particularly on her chest and hips before he sighed. "Tsk. What poor taste. To nearly get yourself killed over such a mediocre woman—utterly not worth it."
"What did you just say?!"
The woman’s face twisted in fury. How dare this wretch, already at death’s door, leer at her and insult her lady as "mediocre"? Everyone in East Dragon City knew her mistress was a peerless beauty, with countless talented suitors vying for her favor!
"I said you’re mediocre," Qin Zang repeated, his tone dismissive as he averted his gaze.
In his past life, he had been invincible in the sword path, reigning as the exalted leader of the Ten Thousand Swords Divine Sect. He had encountered countless women—his standards were anything but low.
"You—"
The young woman in green glared at him, her eyes flashing with fury. So this lecherous scoundrel hadn't been talking about her mistress—but how dare he call *her* plain and unremarkable? The nerve!
"Don’t look at me like that," he drawled lazily, his tone dripping with disdain. "I’ve got no interest in some half-grown brat like you."
"Say that again, I dare you!"
She snatched up a relatively clean wooden stick from the ground, testing its weight in her hand. The unspoken threat was clear.
"Even if I say it a hundred times, the answer’s the same—you’re not my type."
"I—I’ll beat you to death, you shameless pervert!"
"Careful with your words, little girl," he said, his voice cool and mocking. "I haven’t laid a finger on you, haven’t so much as glanced your way—how exactly does that make me a pervert?"
*Thwack!*
The stick struck Qin Zang’s shoulder with a solid crack, sending a sharp jolt of pain radiating through him. Though she wasn’t a cultivator, the force behind her enraged swing was nothing to scoff at—especially when he was already hanging onto life by a thread.
"Hmph! Let’s see if you keep running your mouth now," she sneered, raising the stick again, her anger far from spent.
"Enough!"
His voice cracked like a whip, and for an instant, the air in the room seemed to freeze. Though his body was broken, his spirit shattered, and his cultivation lost, the will of a swordsman who had once stood unrivaled under heaven still lingered. That single word carried the weight of a blade’s edge, and the girl’s arm froze mid-swing, the stick trembling in her grip.
The green-clad maiden stared at Qin Zang as if she'd seen a ghost, swearing she'd never encountered eyes so soul-piercing in her entire life.
Those eyes—like twin divine swords gleaming with frosty light—stabbed straight into her heart, making her breath hitch.
Such terrifying eyes!
Could this truly be the same lecher who'd spied on the young mistress bathing?
Her wooden staff clattered to the ground. The girl stood frozen, as still as a cicada in winter. The man lying on the bed no longer seemed like a dying pervert, but rather a sword emperor whose very name shook the world.
"Scram!"
Qin Zang spat the word with icy precision.
The girl flinched but forced herself to hold her ground. Remembering her mistress's instructions, she suppressed the urge to flee and stammered, "M-my mistress said... y-you... though you've committed a grave offense... it... it doesn't warrant death... H-here... this Snow Ginseng Pill... is... is meant to heal your wounds and detoxify the poison..."
With trembling hands, she pulled out a jade-like pill from her robe, tossed it onto the bed, then scurried out like a frightened mouse.
"Hmph. Such low-grade medicine, and she dares present it like treasure. In my prime, I wouldn't even feed this to my dogs."
Qin Zang scoffed, then immediately regretted his words. Given his current state, he actually needed this very pill. By that logic, wasn't he worse off than his former hounds?
"Tch. If I hadn't been reborn into this worthless fool's body, would I ever have to endure such humiliation?"
He cursed under his breath.
Naturally, he'd inherited the memories of his host—a nobody from a minor Qin family in the city, coincidentally sharing his name. But compared to Qin Zang's own vast recollections, this man's life was but a drop in the ocean, utterly insignificant.
"The idiot was born into obscurity, lazed through life, yet had the audacity to sneak into the Changsun estate to peep at the eldest young mistress bathing. Got caught red-handed, had his limbs broken, and was force-fed the Five Poisons Powder to die in agony."
"Yet what truly commands my respect is how this wretched fool remained obsessed with the eldest daughter of the Changsun family even in death. At least he was consistent in his lust—faithful unto the grave. A man after my own heart."
"Pity though, I couldn’t find any memory fragments of him peeping on the young lady’s bath in his recollections. A real shame. One day, I’ll have to see it for myself."
Qin Zang mused, lifting his limp right hand to pick up the glistening Snow Ginseng Pill from the bed. He popped it into his mouth, where it dissolved instantly, a warm current sliding down his throat like liquid fire.
"Pills in this era are pathetic… Back in my day, even my spit had better potency. But I’ll make do for now."
With a mere thought, Qin Zang summoned an arcane cultivation technique from his memories and began circulating its energy. Under the technique’s guidance, the pill’s medicinal power surged to its full potential, flooding his dantian and encircling the virulent poison spreading through his body.
Within moments, the toxins were completely eradicated. The remaining medicinal energy was then channeled into the meridians of his limbs, meticulously repairing the shattered pathways.
Reborn and resurgent, Qin Zang refused to remain a powerless weakling. He adored women, but his passion for the sword path burned even fiercer—both demanded strength worthy of them. And an unbroken body was the foundation of it all.
