The Divine Path sect is ethereal and elusive, shrouded in mystery; the Qi Refining sect stands aloof from the world, overseeing the nation; martial arts flourish throughout the land, with heroes vying for supremacy; the demonic sect and monster clans lurk in the shadows, waiting for their chance to cause chaos.

A great calamity is approaching, the world is descending into turmoil, and heroes are rising everywhere.

William Carter is reborn in the body of a poor young man from a remote county in the Great Qi Kingdom, beginning to relive a nightmare.

An ugly old man, a dragon-headed monstrous bird, a thousand-mile pursuit...

In these troubled times, how can a fallen and reborn soul protect himself?

Until one day, in a dream, he sees a severed finger wearing a ring fall upon a certain Daoist temple.

The temple's name: Chixiao!

Chapter One: Nightmare

"Huff! Huff! Huff!"

In the darkness, William Carter suddenly sat up from the wooden bed, his chest heaving violently, his forehead covered in large beads of cold sweat.

He had just had another nightmare.

He dreamed of himself sitting in a wheelchair, looking up at the blue sky as an airplane approached from afar, roaring as it tore through the air, trailing two long white tails of condensed vapor.

Suddenly, the airplane transformed into a monstrous bird with a dragon's head, wide fleshy wings, its entire body covered in golden scales, two fangs gleaming coldly like sharp blades, a pair of pitch-black eyes with ghostly flames flickering within—an extremely hideous and terrifying sight.

On top of the dragon-headed monstrous bird lay a tall, thin, old man dressed in black, his face aged and ugly, and wounded.

The two long white tails trailing behind the airplane turned into two gigantic swords, radiating cold light and incomparably sharp.

In the dream, he suddenly became that old, ugly, wounded man, lying atop the monstrous bird exuding a chilling, sinister aura. His whole body was weak and powerless, and as the giant swords sliced through the air toward him, his heart was filled with utter despair.

All at once, the two giant swords erupted with dazzling, sun-like brilliance. Countless sword lights howled forth, blotting out the sky.

"My life is over!" In the dream, that wounded old man—who was also William Carter—felt an indescribable pain, and then saw his own body, along with the monstrous bird beneath him, pierced through by thousands of sword lights, riddled with holes, and then suddenly exploding apart.

The terrifying shockwave from this instant of eruption even caused several mountain peaks below to collapse.

A rain of blood and flesh flew together with shattered rocks.

The dream froze on the image of a severed finger streaking through the night, falling into an ancient well behind a ruined Daoist temple at the foot of the mountain.

A black ring was wrapped around the severed finger.

A tattered plaque hung askew above the temple gate, with the words "Chixiao Temple" written on it.

...

After a long time, William Carter in the darkness gradually calmed down. He glanced at the paper-covered wooden window—outside was still pitch black—then lay back down on the bed, staring up at the wooden beam above, thick with several large cobwebs, his eyes filled with a complex and confused look.

Ten days ago, he was still living in a hospital room with bright glass windows and a ceiling painted white.

That day, his consciousness gradually became blurred and distant, a great darkness descended, threatening to swallow him whole. At that moment, he thought he had finally lost to illness, and his life was about to end.

But he was truly unwilling.

He had just turned thirty, and three years ago, after countless setbacks, his career had finally started to take off. A wonderful life was beckoning to him.

So, he suddenly fought back, constantly telling himself to hold on. He struggled in the darkness, refusing to let his consciousness sink.

He believed that with the rapid advances in modern medicine, as long as he persisted, there was hope!

In the end, the great darkness that tried to engulf him dissipated, and he lost consciousness.

When he woke up, he found himself lying in this old, dilapidated wooden hut, covered with a tattered quilt, and he had become a nineteen-year-old youth named William Carter.

Ten days is neither long nor short, but because he not only possessed William Carter's body but also received his memories, after ten days of confusion, he had slowly begun to accept and adapt to his new identity.

But the recurring dreams over these ten days, along with the frequent flashes in his mind of all sorts of bizarre zombies, and even the occasional emergence from his subconscious of evil, cold, and ruthless thoughts, made the one who had transmigrated into William Carter feel a creeping terror and chills every time he thought about it.

It was as if a very dark, evil, and merciless soul consciousness was still hidden within his own soul.

"If, like in the novels, my soul consciousness transmigrated into William Carter's body, why do I keep dreaming of myself as that ugly, even sinister old man? Why, besides my own and William Carter's memories, do all these fragmented, chaotic, dark, and evil images—many of them of bizarre zombies—keep flashing through my mind? These definitely aren't William Carter's memories! Could it be that I watched too many horror and zombie movies in my previous life?"

"But this time, I actually saw the name of the Daoist temple in the nightmare. I don't think the name appeared in the previous dreams."

Lost in his wild thoughts, William Carter drifted off to sleep again.

When he woke up once more, dawn was already breaking.