In the depths of an ancient forest, where sunlight cascaded through a canopy of emerald leaves, the air itself seemed sacred. In a small clearing, atop a bed of moss, lay a motionless body, oblivious to the world.
Around the figure, ethereal strands of pure, liquid gold danced in the air, outshining the sun’s own rays. They moved with an incomprehensible logic, weaving and unweaving patterns that seemed to echo the very calligraphy of the universe.
The buzzing of insects stopped at the edge of the clearing, and the leaves, stirred by the breeze, shifted as if an invisible barrier protected the sleeper.
Then, an eyelid twitched, and in that instant, the entire phenomenon collapsed. Each golden strand retracted at overwhelming speed, sinking back into the body from which it had emerged and vanishing without leaving the slightest trace. The clearing was just a clearing again.
Consciousness returned like a blow, a whirlwind of sharp pain at the nape of the neck and total disorientation. The first thing Jin registered was the overpowering scent of damp earth. The second, the blinding sunlight striking his closed eyelids.
“What…?”
He snapped his eyes open but had to squint immediately. The world was a blurry smear of greens and browns. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was the white light… a light that had devoured his apartment, his city, his entire world. An accident? An explosion? His mind struggled to find a logical explanation.
He pushed himself up with a groan, resting on his elbows. His body felt heavy, weak, and strangely foreign. He looked around: enormous, twisted trees rose like silent sentinels. He was in the middle of a forest.
For a moment, panic took hold. Nothing made sense. He crawled to find some point of reference until his hands touched the edge of a crystal-clear puddle. He needed to see where he was, and whether he was injured.
He leaned over the still surface, and the panic froze, replaced by absolute, disbelieving shock.
The face staring back at him was not his own.
It belonged to a boy no older than fourteen, yet his beauty was otherworldly. Perfect features that seemed sculpted by a deity, jade-like skin without a flaw, and eyes that, even clouded by confusion, shone like stars. From his forehead fell strands of black hair, within which glimmered threads of pure, shining gold that caught the sunlight.
Jin jerked back, falling onto the moss. He touched his face, fingers trembling as they traced the contours of those cheekbones, that jawline. He tugged at a lock of hair, watching the golden thread gleam between his fingers.
No. No, no, no.
Then, Jin’s mind—the one that had consumed countless cultivation novels—connected the dots. The white light. Awakening in an unknown place. And this… this body. This ridiculously perfect face. This hair with the “special lineage” cliché written all over it.
Confusion and fear evaporated, replaced by a certainty so absurd it nearly made him laugh.
A crooked smile, a mixture of hysteria and grim resignation, spread across that beautiful, foreign face.
“Alright,” he murmured to himself, his voice sounding strange, young, and melodic. “I guess it couldn’t be any more obvious. Let’s start the tutorial. Step one: figure out what kind of cheat I got with this avatar.”
***
In another corner of the forest, the murmur of a stream broke the silence. Among moss-covered stones and the exposed roots of an ancient tree lay a small figure. When the boy opened his eyes, there was no startle, no panic. His eyelids rose with deliberate slowness, revealing pupils so black and deep they seemed like abysses capable of devouring light.
Stillness enveloped him. His gaze drifted across the canopy of leaves, reflection replacing confusion. Only a faint furrow in his brow disturbed his calm. As he sat up, a strange dissonance washed over him: his movements did not fully respond to his intentions, as if he inhabited a foreign body.
He stood, examining himself. His body was different: smaller, lighter, with a pale, almost unnatural complexion. He leaned toward the surface of the stream.
The face staring back at him was not his own. It was of a disturbing beauty, perfect to an almost unreal degree. Acceptance, not shock, was his only reaction.
Wei Han. The name surfaced in his mind, and with it, a flood of memories: the dojo, the sword, the moonlight… and then a blinding flash that erased everything.
Just then, he felt something. The presence of another person. It came from somewhere nearby. Out of instinctive caution, he moved in that direction.
When he reached a clearing, the scene made him pause. A boy his age stood there, his black hair streaked with golden strands that shimmered under the light. His beauty was so striking that an almost inaudible “Oh…” slipped from Wei Han.
Alerted by the sound, Jin turned. His golden eyes locked onto the silent figure that had just appeared. For a moment, even the wind fell silent.
Breaking the tense stillness, Wei Han asked with unshaken calm, “Do you have any idea what’s happening? And where we are?”
Jin blinked, and an expression of sudden realization lit up his face. He rolled his eyes as if the answer were the most obvious thing in the universe.
“No way!” he exclaimed, pointing at Wei Han with overflowing energy. “You transmigrated too! We’re an isekai team!”
A loud laugh burst out of him. Wei Han frowned, his first clear impression forming instantly. I’ve run into a lunatic.
Jin’s laughter gradually died down as he saw the other’s impassive expression.
“Ahem… okay, yeah… it does sound a bit crazy when you say it out loud,” he admitted, clearing his throat. “But listen to me. This isn’t Earth. The most logical explanation is that… we’re in another world.” He gestured broadly at the forest. “Makes sense, right?”
Wei Han processed it for a moment, then nodded with exasperating composure. “Understood.” Without showing further emotion, he extended a hand. “Wei Han.”
Genuine surprise flashed across Jin’s face, and an enthusiastic smile replaced his know-it-all demeanor. He clasped the offered hand firmly. “Jin Yuchen. Nice to meet you, fellow reincarnator!”
A sudden rustling in the undergrowth, followed by a low, guttural growl, interrupted them.
Both turned in unison. Emerging from the bushes, a wolf the size of a calf watched them. Its fur was not hair, but a strange gray substance with a metallic sheen, and its red eyes burned with killing intent.
Before they could react, the spiritual beast lunged.
“RUN!” Jin shouted, spinning on his heel.
Only to discover that Wei Han, in a blur of silent motion, was already several meters ahead of him.
Between roots that felt like traps and slippery slopes, Jin ran with his heart in his throat, trying to keep up with the blurred trail that was Wei Han. The metallic growl of the wolf echoed behind him, drawing closer with every passing second.
“HEY!” Jin shouted, out of breath. “WE’RE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT TOGETHER AND BUILD A BOND! THAT’S IN THE PROTAGONIST’S MANUAL!”
Wei Han did not respond. His agility was unnatural as he leapt over a fallen trunk. Jin tried to imitate him, but stumbled clumsily, rolling down a small slope. Just as panic seized him at the sound of the beast closing in, the growl was cut short by a wet, final snap.
An unnatural silence fell over the forest.
Unbeknownst to them, only a few dozen meters behind, the wolf lay on the ground, cleanly split into two halves. From the undergrowth emerged a young man, dressed in an immaculate blue robe. With a casual gesture, a short, gleaming sword that had been floating beside him returned to its sheath.
“Alright, that completes the mission quota,” he muttered to himself with boredom, before nudging one of the wolf’s halves with the tip of his boot. “Low-level trash.” His gaze then lifted, curious, in the direction the two boys had fled. “Hmm, how strange… What were two brats doing in this forest?”
He shrugged, losing interest as quickly as he had gained it. He had more important matters to attend to.
Far away, Jin and Wei Han finally stumbled out of the dense forest, arriving at a wide prairie beneath a clear sky.
Panting, Jin braced his hands on his knees. “You… are a first-class traitor…” Wei Han, whose breathing was barely disturbed, tilted his head. “You said we should run.”
Jin let out a tired laugh and dropped onto the grass. “A wolf almost turned us into lunch… This world is definitely not for beginners.”
After catching their breath, they scanned the prairie. In the distance, a dirt road wound like a promise of civilization. Jin stood up, resolute. “We should follow it. Where there are roads, there are people.”
Wei Han nodded silently. As they reached the path, they hesitated for a moment about which direction to take, when the familiar sound of wheels and the snort of a beast interrupted their deliberation.
In the distance, an old carriage approached, pulled by a creature resembling an ox, though more robust and with curved horns. The elderly driver pulled on the reins, stopping the vehicle at a respectful distance. His sharp, experienced gaze fixed on the two youths.
Disciples from some sect? the old man thought, puzzled. No child from the nearby villages carries that bearing, that aura…
With an agility that belied his age, the man descended from the carriage. He stepped forward, cupped his hands in a formal gesture, and gave a deep bow.
“This humble old man greets the two Young Masters.”
The words fell like thunder in the silence of the prairie. Jin and Wei Han froze, exchanging a look of pure bewilderment before turning back to the bowing man. A heavy silence stretched across the dusty road, as the two newcomers tried to understand exactly when they had become “Young Masters.”