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## Between Two Lives — From Sheng Fang to Li Tian
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Sheng Fang was twenty-nine years old.
His name never appeared on the toppers' list.
Not once.
Yet anyone who truly spoke to him knew—
his knowledge was no less than a professor's.
He was an engineering student with a razor-sharp mind.
Business management concepts felt natural to him.
Medical pharmacy formulas were easy to remember.
Agricultural seasons, crop cycles, political power games—
everything made sense to him
as if the world itself was an open book.
There was only one problem.
Bad luck.
Every exam—something went wrong.
Sometimes the question paper was unusually tough.
Sometimes his answer sheet went missing.
Sometimes a sudden health issue struck right before the exam.
People would whisper—
*"He studies so much… and still fails?"*
But his parents were different.
*"Marks are not life, son,"*
his father would say calmly,
placing a steady hand on his shoulder.
*"Your time will come,"*
his mother would smile,
her warm hand resting on his head
as if she could press courage directly into him.
They never pressured him.
They never compared him to others.
After every failure,
their support—both financial and emotional—
remained exactly the same.
Sheng Fang survived because of them.
Not because of talent.
Not because of luck.
Because of two people
who believed in him
when the world did not.
---
Then came that night.
Rain poured heavily.
A highway.
A phone call.
A car accident.
His parents were gone.
Dead on the spot.
That day, Sheng Fang was no longer just a failed student.
He became a man
broken from the inside.
---
He stopped studying.
Exams felt pointless.
Degrees felt empty.
The future had no meaning.
Life became simple—survive.
For the next three years,
there was no job he refused.
Food delivery boy.
Cleaning staff.
Restaurant waiter.
Construction laborer.
Work all day.
Exhaustion every night.
People would look at him and shake their heads.
*"Such potential… completely wasted."*
But no one knew.
Inside his mind,
the genius was still alive.
Waiting.
Just waiting.
---
Then came the final blow.
The hospital room was quiet
when the doctor spoke softly.
*"Pancreatic cancer. Late stage."*
Sheng Fang just smiled.
*"At least this time,"*
he thought,
*"the reason for my bad luck is clear."*
---
Lying on the hospital bed,
staring at the ceiling,
he did not think about achievements.
He did not think about degrees,
or money,
or the things he never accomplished.
He thought about his father's calm voice.
*"Marks are not life, son."*
He thought about his mother's warm hand.
He thought about how they had given everything—
and received nothing in return.
Not even a son who lived long enough
to make them proud.
That was the real wound.
Not the failures.
Not the bad luck.
The fact that he never got the chance
to show them
that their belief was not wasted.
Tears did not fall.
He was too tired for that.
But one wish formed slowly—
clear and quiet—
in the last moments of his consciousness.
*If I get another life…*
*I will not just live longer.*
*I will not just become strong.*
*I will become someone*
*worth believing in.*
*For them.*
And then—
His breathing stopped.
---
His eyes opened.
But this was not the hospital.
The room was crude.
Old wooden beams crossed the ceiling.
The air smelled of herbal medicine
and something older—
dust and faded silk.
His hands were thin.
His body felt young.
He rushed to a mirror.
This face…
was not Sheng Fang.
Memories crashed into his mind like a storm.
Li Tian.
Age nineteen.
The Murim world.
Martial arts.
Sects.
Power struggles.
The Tian family—
once a respected merchant family—
now bankrupt.
Drowning in debt.
Living in humiliation.
No stable future.
Sheng Fang—
now Li Tian—
slowly sat down on the edge of the bed.
He did not rush.
He did not panic.
He simply breathed.
*Murim world…*
he whispered.
*Martial arts, sects, power games…*
His eyes moved slowly across the room.
Cracked walls.
Faded furniture.
A family reduced to its last breath.
No powerful clan backing him.
No mysterious system.
No hidden treasure.
Just a fallen merchant family.
And a young boy
the world considered weak.
---
Li Tian clenched his fist slowly.
In his previous life,
he had studied everything—
and been rewarded with nothing.
He had worked hard—
and been given cancer.
He had loved two people deeply—
and watched them disappear on a rainy highway.
But here—
Here the equation was different.
Knowledge that had been useless in a world of exams
could become a weapon in a world of trade.
Business sense.
Medical understanding.
Agricultural knowledge.
Political insight.
None of these required luck.
They required preparation.
And patience.
And the kind of mind
that turns every loss into data.
*I have that mind,*
Li Tian thought quietly.
*I always had it.*
---
He stood up.
Walked to the small window.
Below, the city moved slowly—
people carrying goods,
merchants arguing over prices,
guards walking their rounds.
A world built on power.
But power, Li Tian knew,
was never just about swords.
*In my previous life,*
he thought,
*I was a victim of bad luck.*
*This time…*
His reflection looked back at him
from the dusty window glass—
young face,
calm eyes,
and behind them
something that bad luck
had never been able to destroy.
*This time I will live with preparation.*
*With intelligence.*
*With purpose.*
He pressed one hand quietly against the glass.
A gesture no one saw.
A promise no one heard.
*I will become someone worth believing in.*
*For them.*
---
He had no cultivation experience.
But he carried something
far more valuable—
Knowledge.
A treasury built from years of study and struggle.
With business sense,
he could stabilize the family.
With medical knowledge,
he could create herbs and medicines.
With agricultural understanding,
he could improve food security.
With political insight,
he could read future power games
before they were played.
And most importantly—
This time,
he had a reason to live.
Not survival.
Not revenge.
Something quieter.
And heavier.
*Become worth believing in.*
---
In the Murim world,
inside the house of a fallen merchant family,
a new story had begun.
And this time—
He would write it himself.
Every line.
Every number.
Every deal.
Not for glory.
For the two people
who never stopped believing—
even when he gave them
every reason to.
---
*The first step was not a sword.*
*It was not cultivation.*
*It was not even money.*
*The first step—*
*was understanding exactly where he stood.*
*And from there—*
*deciding where he would go.*
---
**End of Chapter 1**
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