C1 Coming to a Foreign World

Ye Xiao had no idea how much time had passed when he suddenly came to. Without a moment's hesitation, his hands instinctively pressed against the ground, ready to rise and flee the perilous area. In such a critical moment, neither he nor his disciple could afford to delay.

But as he attempted to lift himself, his arms gave way, unable to bear his body's weight, and he crashed back down with a heavy thud. For an elite assassin accustomed to executing even the most complex maneuvers with ease, this simple attempt to rise was embarrassingly unsuccessful.

Confusion seized Ye Xiao as he opened his heavy eyes and surveyed his surroundings. This was not the thunderous mountaintop he remembered, but rather a room reminiscent of an ancient bedroom. The space was sizeable, yet it bore the unmistakable signs of long neglect.

Wasn't I just witnessing the old man face his tribulations? Where has he gone? Could it be that he has overcome the three calamities and left me here?

Ye Xiao's thoughts were still mired in the moments before his slumber, or more precisely, frozen in the final scene of his previous life.

Ye Xiao was found abandoned as an infant. From his earliest memories, he had lived with an old man on Zhongnan Mountain. The old man, Ye Zhenshan, was not only Ye Xiao's master but also his sole kin.

The pair, resembling both master and disciple as well as grandfather and grandson, had shared a life for over fifteen years.

Ye Xiao's name was unremarkable, unlikely to pique anyone's interest. Yet his alias, Yama, resonated with a chilling familiarity among the upper echelons of royalty, politicians, and the wealthy elite.

Four years prior, an assassin known as "Yama" emerged in the underworld. A newcomer's arrival typically went unnoticed, but within a year, the mere mention of "Yama" was enough to silence those in the know.

Yama's profile was straightforward: garbed in a black robe, face obscured by a black scarf, age unknown, skilled with a longsword. He had burst onto the scene a year ago, undertaking forty-two C-level missions, fifty-seven B-level missions, and twenty-one A-level missions—a total of one hundred and twenty assignments, all completed with flawless precision.

He was renowned among assassins as one of the super experts most likely to ascend to the coveted [S] class—a true supreme authority in the killer world.

"Yama" stood apart from the typical assassins who killed for cash. He would only take on a mission after conducting his own investigation to confirm the target's guilt. Only then would "Yama" strike.

To some, the name "Yama" conjured the image of the fearsome King of Hell. To others, he was a knight of justice lurking in the shadows.

Yet, no one could have pictured that the supreme killer, "Hades," was in fact a youth of fourteen or fifteen, robed in white, his face often breaking into a sly grin as he roamed the mountain forests.

Ye Xiao's master, Ye Zhenshan, had revealed that their sect, the Qian Yuan Sect, was immensely powerful, with a lineage stretching back thousands of years. They practiced the "Qianyuan Spell," but the subsequent levels of this technique had been lost over the generations, leaving only the first three stages intact. Ye Xiao had mastered the second stage to perfection, while his master had reached the pinnacle of the third.

The Qian Yuan Sect possessed an heirloom that had been passed down through the ages. As the self-proclaimed fifty-sixth Young Sect Master—a title Ye Xiao had cheekily bestowed upon himself—he had cunningly obtained this fabled artifact from the old man years ago.

But the artifact, a sword, was a letdown for Ye Xiao. It wasn't particularly sharp, and unlike other longswords, its blade was etched with a dense pattern of blood-red veins, while its golden hilt and guard were similarly wrapped in these sanguine threads.

Ye Zhenshan claimed that grasping the true essence of this sword would catapult one's cultivation forward, granting the power to move mountains and seas, even rivaling the legendary immortals.

Despite harboring strong doubts about his master's claims, the allure of plucking stars and challenging immortals was irresistible to the youthful Ye Xiao.

So, after having "swindled" the sword, Ye Xiao spent his days meditating before it, caressing and pondering its form, eager for enlightenment. Yet, as days passed, the sword remained unchanged, and so did he.

From that moment on, Ye Xiao shouldered the eerie Long Sword, his interest in the Enlightenment Sword waning.

Ye Xiao's mind wandered back to the final moments of his past life. As Ye Zhenshan had explained, reaching the pinnacle of the third level would beckon lightning from the heavens—a tribulation of life and death. Surviving it meant five centuries of life and a tremendous surge in power. Yet, the odds of surviving such a heavenly tribulation were less than one in a hundred.

This tribulation had one peculiar rule: it must be faced alone, with no assistance from others. If anyone dared to step within a hundred-meter radius of the one undergoing the tribulation, the difficulty would multiply, as the heavens would perceive it as an attempt to disrupt the process.

Ye Xiao was well aware of this stipulation. But in the critical moment, his master, Ye Zhenshan, was utterly drained of energy, defenseless. In his desperation, Ye Xiao didn't give a second thought to the taboo. He tore through the bonds of the heavenly thunder and sprinted toward his master.

The already ferocious lightning intensified, a purple bolt cleaving the air towards Ye Zhenshan, with another swiftly targeting Ye Xiao. It felt as though a scorching Long Sword had pierced through his skull, coursing through his body, his vital energy already in tatters. The searing wave of the lightning caused the blood beads on Ye Chen's body to burst, scattering across his skin, with droplets splattering onto the Qian Yuan Sword he carried.

The blood beads on the sword did not fall off; instead, they eerily spread and slid along the blood-red patterns etched into the blade. The Qian Yuan Sword, which had remained unchanged until now, suddenly emitted a crisp, resounding hum.

A brilliant red light flared, and Ye Xiao fell into unconsciousness.

Jolted awake, Ye Xiao's eyes snapped open, and a flood of alien memories surged from deep within, filling his mind with unfamiliar images. He was as stunned as he had been when the lightning struck him.

Regaining his composure, he swung his legs off the bed and approached an antiquated bronze mirror. Gazing at the reflection of a face he didn't recognize, Ye Xiao stood there, lost in thought.

I was actually inside another body. How did this happen?

As memories of the eclectic novels from his past life surfaced, Ye Xiao's face twisted with bewilderment. Could it be that he had traveled through time? Or had he somehow resurrected in a new form?

Then, Ye Xiao noticed a red mark on his arm—a miniature sword. It was unmistakably the token of the Qian Yuan Sect, resembling the eerie Qian Yuan sword. But why was it here?

He had inexplicably arrived in this unfamiliar place. Was it possible that this sword had transported him?

With a gentle caress of the sword with his left hand, a wave of sorrow washed over him. If only he hadn't taken the sword from his master, Ye Zhenshan, perhaps his master would still be unharmed.

Ye Xiao let out a deep sigh. The departed were gone, and his grief would change nothing. Such sorrow was best buried deep within, to be quietly savored in solitude.