In the eastern lands of Shenzhou, deep within the Thousand Lotus Peaks of Liaodong Prefecture, mountain after mountain stacked like waves, piercing the clouds. The peaks were shaped like blooming lotus flowers, mist curling around them like a veil—unreal, like a dreamland.
On one of those lofty peaks, a young man in plain robes was sweating hard, gritting his teeth as he climbed. His face was pale, handsome, with eyes that shimmered like stars—uncommon at first glance.
A smirk tugged at Ethan Linwood’s lips. The look on his face said it all—indifferent, like nothing in the world had anything to do with him.
A gust swept by, flapping his robe. He finally stepped onto the peak, where a pile of rubble lay like ruins. After catching his breath, Ethan kicked a loose stone off the edge.
Cliffside was steep—like a blade sliced through it. The stone tumbled downward, vanished into mist below. Watching the abyss, Ethan grinned to himself, eyes narrowed. “Come on, Ethan. Ninety-eight times already. Something’s gotta give.”
He strolled the peak with hands clasped behind his back, waited until the sun began to dip, then faced the thousand-zhang drop. Sighed. Shut his eyes. And jumped.
“Damn it, Heaven! Stop messing with me! If you’ve got guts then send me back!” His scream echoed, fading fast as he plunged, no different than the rock before.
“Ah—!” The yell tore on. Beneath the cliff, vines snapped under his falling body. Sharp branches tore at him—all over blood, skin ripped, bones cracked.
Boom.
He hit the ground hard. Or… maybe not quite dead. Half his body shattered, brain half-spilled. His crash startled all kinds of forest birds into the sky. Beasts in the woods scattered, peeking back in fear.
“Ugh—damn it all, that hurt like hell,” Ethan groaned. Even with his head messed up, he could still curse. Beneath dry leaves, a faint gray glow crawled over his broken form. Green veins laced through red meat, bone knitting, meat regrowing, his ruined frame coming back to life.
His face already pieced together, Ethan looked up at the mountain above and let out another wail.
He dragged himself up, limbs trembling. Death didn’t scare him—hadn’t for a long time. But pain? Still hellish. Didn’t matter though. Couldn’t die anyway. Had to keep jumping. What if some miracle showed up?
Two hours later, ragged clothes barely hanging on him, Ethan staggered from the woods. He looked at his hand—fairer than before. Every time he died, came back cleaner somehow.
With a bitter laugh, he walked off the trail, found the usual creek, washed himself off. Peeled off ripped robes, fished a bundle from between rocks. Pulled out another plain robe.
“Sixteen damn years here. Not a single real warrior in sight,” he muttered, pulling the robe over his shoulders. “How big is this Da Zhou Empire anyway? Where are all those sect masters, those legendary generals?”
Head down, shoulders slumped, Ethan walked out of the deep forest, worn out and soul-weary.“I don’t buy it. Other than not being able to die, am I really that useless? Fine. If nothing happens in a couple more years, I’ll head out on my own. Just find my way through the world, visit the sacred mountains, look for masters, join a sect—whatever it takes.”
Ethan Linwood made up his mind, heading toward the village seven miles down the mountain. By afternoon, he could already see faint wisps of smoke rising from Wuyah Village.
A small river ran through the village, and near the entrance, a few women were washing clothes. One of them, a hefty woman with a massive chest, spotted Ethan from afar and bellowed cheerfully, “Ethan! Off to the mountains again? I’m warning you, with that skinny body, don’t keep running into the deep woods—you’ll end up lunch for a beast!”
“Going to die!” Ethan muttered gloomily.
The women burst into laughter. The burly woman shook her head and scolded with a grin, “Don’t talk nonsense. You’re the brightest kid in the village! Just lazy. Give it a couple more years, we’ll have our boy go with you to the county—join the local guards or something...”
“Thanks, Mrs. Scholefield, but next time maybe lock the door when you bathe. The boys down west keep sneaking peeks,” Ethan replied with a frown, clearly annoyed.
Wuyah villagers were tough people. Men and women alike. They didn’t practice martial arts, but if they were dropped on Earth, they’d be a tribe of hardened warriors.
“Get lost, like you don’t look,” Mrs. Scholefield rolled her eyes, then proudly shook what she had, making the nearby women laugh even harder.
Ethan, pale-faced as ever, showed no embarrassment—just sighed again and headed deeper into the village.
Just then, from one of the tiled houses, a young girl dashed out. She had a round baby face and two pigtails bouncing behind her, eyes wide in alarm. “Brother Ethan! Your father’s drunk again!”
“Got it, Pearl. I’ll go.” Ethan sighed. Normally, he’d joke around with Pearl—she was pretty, no doubt, far curvier than Mrs. Scholefield—but today he just didn’t have it in him.
Pearl gave him a bashful side glance and huffed, “Don’t call me that nickname! I’m not chubby anymore. Look at me! If you don’t believe it, touch and see.”
“Haha, maybe next time.” Ethan took a deep breath, shook off the gloom, and sprinted toward the two-story house near the entrance.
On the way, he passed by villagers, all smiling warmly at him.
“Smart kid. Shame he’s always running into the mountains. Must’ve been tricked by some eccentric old fool.”
“Yeah. Back then we thought he was just a quiet boy. But these last years—look at him! Keeps the Linwood place running, even knows how to dig fire pits and cook stir-fries. Damn prodigy. Too bad—no martial masters around here. What a waste.”
Ethan ignored the chatter, pushed open the heavy black door, and scanned the courtyard.
There, slouched on the stone table, was a gaunt man with bleary eyes and booze on his breath. “Damn fool... off wandering again? Think this old man’s blade isn’t sharp anymore?”
“You’re only thirty-something, stop calling yourself old man. And your ‘blade’ is rusted junk—barely chops firewood,” Ethan grumbled, scooped him up with practiced ease, and dumped him onto the eastern bedroom cot.
The man was, of course, his father—Elliott Linwood. With white streaks in his hair and a face starting to age, you’d think he was much older if you didn’t look too hard.
“Hell of a life,” Ethan mumbled. “Others get reborn and end up with generals or emperors as dads... or at least noble clans. And me? Land in a martial world, and pop turns out to be a damn drunk.”“Hell with it, one more time tonight. If jumping a hundred times still does nothing, I’m leaving this damn village.”
As night fell, Ethan Linwood settled his drunk father down, clenched his jaw, and stormed toward the village gate, all the pent-up anger burning in his chest.
At the gate, that wrinkled white-haired old man was still yammering away to a few kids, “Back in the day, our Wuya Village had a real powerhouse. Someone once fell off the cliffs of Lianhua Mountain…”
“Old man, screw you and your stories. If I don’t find that legendary manual after this jump, I’ll torch your house. Let’s see you spread lies then.”
Ethan disappeared into the night, a bundle on his back, his silhouette swallowed by darkness. The fire torch in his hand flickered as he walked alone once again through the familiar paths.
“Good thing there aren't any beasts around here. Whatever, I’ll pick a closer cliff this time—if it ends quicker, great. Not like I can die anyway.”
His pale face was tight with frustration. Ethan had had enough of village life. Dull as dirt out here.
Darkness clung to the mountains like a beast with open jaws. Most folks wouldn’t dare come here after nightfall. Ethan, though, was used to it. He’d cracked the pattern long ago—no matter how broken he ended up, as long as there was a piece of bone left, he’d come back. The worse the injury, the longer it took.
“Damn it all… My dream girl, my comfy city life, all gone thanks to this damn heaven! You call this a high-level world? Big deal! You got missiles? You got nukes? No? Then shut up, you backwater world.”
He muttered with a bitter sneer, thinking of his Earth days. Compared to that, the people here were like cave dwellers.
He finally reached the cliff again, chest heaving.
“Damn you, heavens! This is jump number one-freaking-hundred! You hear me? If you’ve got guts, take me! If not, hand me a damn cheat code already!”
Just as his voice echoed into the stars, a blinding light streaked across the sky from the constellation in the north. It flickered strangely, heading right for the mountain peak.
“Forget it. Let’s get this over with.” Ethan closed his eyes, ready to jump.
But right then, a drifting, ancient voice spoke.
“Young man, I see extraordinary potential in your bones. You’re destined to—”
“Shut it!” Ethan’s eyes burst open, tears already streaming as he turned and charged forward. “Finally! I've been waiting for you!”
A white-robed old man stood before him, hair like snow, eyes like twin galaxies, bathing the area in a soft, starlit glow. Radiance flared from his entire body.
“Immortal...? Monster...?”
Ethan’s fingers trembled, his voice uncertain, heart pounding in disbelief.
“Don’t ask who I am. I’m leaving soon. Take this.” The elder's hands glowed, and from the light emerged a thick, golden book pulsing with energy.
“I moved heaven and earth…”
Ethan nearly burst into song, feeling like fate had just flipped on its head. His time was finally here. The moment had arrived when he'd rise and stake his claim in this world.
Jumping off the cliff ninety-nine times wasn’t for nothing. With the look of this old man, he had to be an immortal. And that book—it had to be his long-awaited martial secret.
