“Reincarnated, returned as a human—never thought there would truly be a day when I, Henry Johnson, could escape from hell. But my true spirit’s memories haven’t been sealed?” Henry Johnson mused quietly in his heart.

Henry Johnson knew very well: if unwavering faith alone could make one fearless of the waters of the River of Forgetfulness, then there would be far too many reincarnators in this world.

The mysterious power of fate and mortal dust within the River of Forgetfulness—even immortals and gods can hardly withstand it, let alone himself.

“However, the fact that my memories remain is also a good thing. Even if some great being has set up a scheme, it doesn’t matter!” Henry Johnson was well aware that he was far too weak now. Even if he truly was being used as a pawn by some supreme being, he had not the slightest ability to resist.

The only thing he could do was seize every opportunity to grow stronger. Only by becoming powerful could he truly have a chance to break free from the shackles of fate.

“As long as I can cultivate to a certain level, any scheme will eventually reveal itself. Could things possibly turn out worse than in my previous life?” A chill flickered in Henry Johnson’s eyes.

To some, ninety thousand years of torment in hell might seem miraculous, even worthy of a few exclamations of awe. But to Henry Johnson, it was nothing but humiliation—a humiliation that lasted ninety thousand years.

“One day, I will reclaim everything. Hell not empty? Hmph, the Kṣitigarbha King of Yin Mountain is far too merciful. This hell should have been emptied long ago!” Henry Johnson muttered to himself.

Ninety thousand years of suffering and pain had already erased all his illusions and grievances. Only boundless hatred filled his chest. He refused to endure it again. He wanted revenge. He wanted to take back everything he once had.

“The most important thing now is cultivation. My past identity must never be exposed.” Henry Johnson thought to himself.

Having just arrived in this world, he could sense that it was far from peaceful. Although the overall strength of the Jiang Manor was considerable and his father’s status was high,

it was clear that there were other powers and strong individuals in this world. For example, the Northern Mountain Bandits, and the war with the ‘Demon King’ his mother spoke of—this world, too, was rife with conflict.

“In this life, I will surely walk the sacred path and reach the absolute peak!” Henry Johnson slowly closed his eyes. The cultivation method for the soul had already surfaced in his sea of consciousness and began to circulate gently.

Chapter Six: Transcending the Mortal, Entering the Sacred

Time flowed by, and in the blink of an eye, six years had passed.

It was once again the turn of autumn and winter.

“Bang!” “Bang!” “Bang!”

In a rather spacious courtyard of the Jiang Manor, the sounds of repeated impacts rang out, sometimes accompanied by shouts. In the very center of the four-sided courtyard, a thin figure was relentlessly pounding a wooden stake with his arms.

That small, thin figure was, of course, Henry Johnson. He had been in this world for six years now.

From his earliest days in the crib, he had begun training his body’s flexibility. As his body gradually matured, he slowly started strength training as well.

With his past life’s experience, Henry Johnson already understood: talent determines how fast you can go, but effort determines how far you can go.

“Hoo!”

Henry Johnson gently withdrew his fists and stood up. He had not yet practiced any true qi techniques; this strength training was merely to build a solid foundation for his body.

Turning around, Henry Johnson walked toward the house.

……

Henry Johnson entered the dining hall in the back courtyard of his home, where his mother had already set out the dishes.

“Han’er, come in and eat.” Vera Quinn smiled as she sat at the table. “Han’er, today I made your favorite wild boar’s head meat. Try it.”

“Alright.” Henry Johnson couldn’t help but smile. “Will father be back tonight?”

“It’s been three days; he should be back.” Vera Quinn replied with a smile.

Autumn was the season when the Northern Mountain Range teemed with the most demon beasts and wild animals. Each manor would usually organize their warriors to hunt in the mountains at this time—both to gather meat and to hunt demon beasts in preparation for the grand sacrificial ceremony.

Over the past few years, Henry Johnson had become very familiar with this routine. As the strongest in the manor, his father would lead the warriors deep into the mountains every year at this time, often not returning for a day or even several days.

Soon, Henry Johnson finished eating, wiped his mouth, and said, “Mother, I’m going out for a walk.”

“Going to the library again? Remember to come back for dinner!” Vera Quinn said with a smile.

“Mm, I know, mother!” Henry Johnson’s voice drifted from afar.

……

Henry Johnson walked slowly along the inner manor’s paths.

These six years, free from the endless torment of hell, he had only the care and love of his parents. As the only son of the manor’s second lord, he had every delight and delicacy at his disposal.

To Henry Johnson, this place was heaven compared to hell.

However, he did not indulge himself, but quietly followed his own plans.

These six years, he mainly cultivated his soul, strengthening his spirit, while also training his body’s flexibility and tendons. As for true martial cultivation, he had not started at all.

Martial cultivation is not the earlier the better. A child’s body grows too quickly; a single misstep can leave hidden dangers.

As he walked, Henry Johnson soon left the inner manor.

Although called a manor, in Henry Johnson’s eyes, the Jiang Manor was not much different from a small city.

Built around a great mountain, it was a well-fortified mountain fortress. Over ten thousand people lived within, and it controlled dozens of surrounding villages—truly a powerful force ruling over its own domain.