The Gan Dynasty had been forged upon the overwhelming might of the Gu clan. When the empire rotted from within under the weight of corruption and noble excess, it was the famed Marshal of the Gu clan who rose in defiance. With iron will and unmatched command, he led a daring revolt, marched his army straight to the capital, and from its conquered heart established the Gan Dynasty, crushing all resistance beneath his banner.
From that day forward, it stood as a central imperial power, ruling over semi-autonomous tributary kingdoms and keeping five vast realms in submission through the might of its Immortal Phoenix Army, a force so legendary that it had never once tasted defeat since its founding. Its presence alone was enough to deter rebellion, its reputation enough to break morale before a single blade was drawn.
Thirty years from now, at the Battle of Tu'lu, when Si would finally cross paths with that army, his undying horde would meet its first true defeat, and he himself would barely escape with his life. That single encounter had carved itself into his memory, not as a lesson, but as a scar.
That was the root of his resentment.
"In my past life, I only obtained the supreme art after the war between Jinshan and Yunhe had already begun. I knew little of cultivation and had no master to guide me, so I made countless mistakes and could only join the war three years after it started. My contributions were limited, and in the end, all I managed to seize was the position of Bi clan patriarch."
Si lifted his hand slowly, his frail palm rising until it blocked out the moon from his vision. The weakness in his body was obvious, but his eyes remained sharp, calculating, filled with a clarity that did not belong to a boy of his age.
"I know everything about the secret technique now. I can begin cultivating it tonight. With my knowledge, I can recover my strength swiftly. If I play my cards right, within the next decade, I will become King of Yunhe."
His fingers curled into a tight fist, the trembling of his weak body unable to suppress the blazing intent in his eyes. This second chance would not be wasted. He had walked that path once, blind and stumbling, but this time he would move with precision. After setting the central plains ablaze once more, he would march upon the heavens themselves and force them to repay every ounce of suffering they had inflicted upon him.
Delay is not denial.
"King of Yunhe? Patriarch of the Bi clan? You've lost your mind today. Eat first!"
Before Si could respond, Bao shoved a rice ball straight into his mouth and burst into laughter, his voice light and carefree like a child pleased with his own mischief. Si froze for a moment, the sudden interruption breaking the tension he had built, his eyes settling on Bao as emotions stirred within him in a way that felt unfamiliar and overwhelming.
In his previous life, the supreme art of death had stripped him of everything, including his emotions. At first, that emptiness had felt unnatural, like something essential had been torn away, but over three centuries it had become part of him. He had learned to function without hesitation, without attachment, without weakness. Now, reincarnated into a time before that transformation, those suppressed emotions surged violently to the surface, raw and unfiltered. That was why he had been unable to control his tears earlier.
Within him existed two selves. One was the cold, solitary general whose name alone struck fear into kingdoms, a man who commanded death without hesitation. The other was a fifteen-year-old boy, neglected and beaten, unwanted by a father who saw him as nothing more than a burden, a boy whose only source of warmth in a life devoid of affection had been the person standing before him.
Bao.
Bao was the most important person in his life. In his previous life, Bao's death one year from now had been the very spark that pushed him down the demonic path. It was the moment that severed his last connection to humanity.
Yet now, that same person sat before him, alive, smiling, laughing without care.
Si did not know how to process it.
Emotions surged through him like a storm threatening to tear him apart from within, and instinctively, he suppressed them, forcing them back down into the depths of his mind where they could not interfere.
He took a large bite of the rice ball, then pulled it away, chewing slowly before swallowing.
"Do you still feel chills in your chest at night?"
The question struck Bao immediately. His hand moved instinctively to his chest, clutching at it for a brief moment before he caught himself. He avoided Si's gaze and forced a smile, shaking his head lightly.
"What are you talking about? I feel great!"
Si watched him without expression. That was typical Bao. Always pretending. Always hiding his pain so others would not worry. Even in his final moments, Bao had kept him away, unwilling to let him witness his suffering. When Si had finally been allowed to see the body, the dried tear marks on Bao's face had told everything. He had cried until the very end, terrified, alone.
I will protect you in this life.
The thought settled firmly in his mind, erasing all hesitation. In that moment, Si made a decision that would define everything moving forward. No matter what path he walked, no matter how much blood he spilled, Bao would survive. Bao would live. Bao would be the only existence untouched by the chaos he would unleash upon the world.
"Let me help you with the cold."
Si's voice hardened with resolve as he placed his hand firmly against Bao's chest.
"W–whoa, slow down. I love you, brother, but not like that." Bao laughed awkwardly, trying to pull away while clearly unsure of what was happening.
"Stay still."
"Yes, sir."
Bao did not understand why, but something in Si's gaze froze his thoughts. His body stilled instinctively, as if compelled to obey.
What Bao suffered from was an excess of extreme yin qi. Under normal circumstances, it would continue to erode his vitality until it eventually claimed his life, but for Si, who cultivated the supreme art of death, this was not a problem but an opportunity.
This art could not be cultivated with ordinary qi. It required extreme yin qi, making places like battlefields and graveyards ideal for its practice.
Bam.
Si's fingers tapped lightly against Bao's chest. At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the cold that had been lodged deep within Bao's body began to retreat. The lingering discomfort faded, the oppressive chill dissolving as warmth spread through his limbs. His pale skin flushed red, his breathing steadied, and the tightness in his lungs vanished as if invisible chains had been broken.
Bao inhaled sharply, then again, deeper this time, his eyes widening in disbelief as he placed a hand over his chest, feeling something he had not felt in years.
Warmth.
Life.
While Bao stared at him in shock, Si calmly took another bite of his rice ball. His brows furrowed slightly as he noticed it had gone cold, yet he did not hesitate. He shoved the rest into his mouth, chewing as his gaze drifted upward toward the crescent moon hanging in the sky.
"How did you—"
Si raised his hand and pressed two fingers against Bao's lips, silencing him immediately. Their eyes met, and Si spoke in an even, unwavering tone.
"I'll be spending the nights outside from now on. Don't ask questions."
With that, he reached into the wooden bowl, picked up another rice ball, and continued eating as if nothing had happened.
Bao remained frozen where he sat, his mind in disarray. The look in Si's eyes lingered in his thoughts, heavy and unfamiliar. He could not understand it. He could not understand how the boy he had known for years had changed so completely in a single day.