For the next few days, Jun Xie still did not leave his chambers. The moment he woke up, he would rush to the Scripture Pavilion and remain there until evening. Without fail, any book he perused would subsequently be gathered up by Old Master Jun, analyzed once more, followed by a familiar sequence: shaking his head, nodding, sighing, exhaling, looking lost, and showing surprise—it seemed his repertoire of expressions was inexhaustible.

Additionally, the Jun family servants noticed their young master had developed another peculiar habit: if staying cooped up in the Scripture Pavilion during the day was odd enough, at night, he insisted on sitting out in the courtyard, choosing the darkest, most lightless spots. Truly… wicked!

However, the servants weren't overly concerned; compared to the young master's previous antics, this new behavior was vastly preferable!

That night, Jun Xie once again settled beneath a flowering tree, savoring the profound darkness where his hand vanished before his eyes. A sudden sense of security washed over him. Yes, security! For Jun Xie, the former King of Assassins who once dominated the world, the deepest black of night offered the greatest safety! Only the darkness had been his best and most reliable companion in his past life!

Gazing up at the stars, Jun Xie was struck by a subtle, dreamlike feeling. Over the past few days, he had broadly skimmed numerous books detailing this world, gaining some understanding of the continent. Yet, the more he learned, the more bewildered he became.

Were it not for the clear, black-and-white inscriptions, Jun Xie would have sworn he had somehow been transported back to ancient Chinese society; it was too similar! The same complexion, the same accent, comparable culture, and attire reminiscent of China’s most glorious Tang and Song dynasties…

Jun Xie groaned, burying his head between his knees, tightly clutching the back of his neck. He thought agonizingly: Why? Why not some era of ancient China? If it were, think of the advantageous resources I could exploit! Even if I didn’t proactively alter the course of history, I could use my foresight to navigate great historical events and steer clear of calamity!

The Profound Profound Continent—what the devil kind of place is this? Gold Profound, Silver Profound, Earth Profound, Heaven Profound… Profound Qi… To hell with your Profound Qi! Why isn't it internal martial arts energy?

The only things that remained perhaps similar were the eternally constant sun and moon, and the gentle mist of the night, which offered Jun Xie a faint, familiar echo of his homeland, Huaxia!

Jun Xie’s face hardened like cold stone, the muscles in his jaw clenching painfully. He felt an overwhelming urge to curse the heavens!

Suddenly, at this peak of emotional intensity, a piercing headache struck him. Even for Jun Xie, whose tolerance was beyond ordinary comprehension, it became unbearable. He let out a muffled sound, feeling dizzy and lightheaded, followed by a sudden, violent vertigo…

Through his eyes, the entire world seemed to spin violently. Even the hazy night dissolved into swirling, voracious plumes of chaotic vapor. The world abruptly shifted, becoming intensely illusory, unreal…

Jun Xie gasped in pain, gnashing his teeth until his lips drew blood. His eyes nearly bulged from their sockets, yet he fiercely suppressed any sound, refusing to utter even a whimper.

Arriving alone in this world, all suffering must be borne by himself! In this foreign land, I cannot rely on anyone! Nor will I rely on anyone!

Kill, kill, kill, kill! With my killing arts, I will carve a path of blood, shatter the heavens, and break the earth! Kill, kill, kill, kill!

As Jun Xie’s consciousness blurred, a distant point of light seemed to ignite in his mind. The light felt far away, yet it was slowly drawing closer, growing brighter, larger, and clearer, until it coalesced into a dazzling, seven-colored pagoda spinning ceaselessly within his mental landscape. With every rotation, it cast a faint, sacred white radiance.

Each revolution, however, subjected Jun Xie to an agony comparable to being trapped and recycled through the eighteen layers of hell!

His body was long numb, his limbs paralyzed, his awareness slowly fading. Only Jun Xie’s eyes, now blood-red, stared fixedly at the sky, at the earth, at this unfamiliar world, unblinking for an eternity…

He didn’t know how long had passed when a cold wind suddenly swept over him, bringing with it a chill.

The early autumn night was indeed beginning to turn cold, Jun Xie mused. He awoke with a start: I feel the cold. I have sensation. Didn't I already…? He shot upright, only to realize his entire body was drenched in cold sweat, having soaked through his clothes more times than he could count, leaving him clammy and miserable.

Suddenly, he experienced a strange sensation, akin to being reborn.

Waking up within Jun Mo Xie’s body, inheriting this masterless vessel—a transmigration, perhaps, or a soul attachment—Jun Xie was still Jun Xie. But after this agonizing ordeal, he felt truly and completely merged with this physical form. Jun Xie had truly become Jun Mo Xie, the rightful owner of this body!

Ignoring the disarray of his soaked clothing, Jun Xie’s first action was to sit cross-legged, close his eyes, and sink his divine sense into his sea of consciousness to probe and understand. He already knew that the intense suffering came entirely from the small pagoda that had fused with his body. Therefore, Jun Xie concluded, that pagoda must possess extraordinary properties. Simple physical assimilation wouldn't necessitate such agony; there had to be deeper mysteries involved. This small pagoda was nearly his sole reliance for existence; he would never rest content until he grasped its truth.

Jun Xie clearly perceived, as if viewing it with his physical eyes, a small, exquisitely shaped pagoda emitting seven-colored light, suspended above the sea of his consciousness, revolving slowly. Jun Xie distinctly felt that with every turn of the pagoda, the flow of his body’s vital energy and blood completed one clockwise cycle, repeating endlessly…

What is this? Jun Xie stared at the small pagoda with astonished suspicion. This thing utterly defied common sense, plunging the steadfast atheist into genuine bewilderment.

I wonder if I can get a closer look? Just as Jun Xie thought this, the small pagoda seemed to grow larger. Immediately, the main door on the bottom level burst open, and a thick surge of white mist rushed out, instantly engulfing Jun Xie’s entire consciousness. The mist was so dense it felt almost tangible. Jun Xie took a deep breath and suddenly felt immense comfort flow through him, an indescribable sense of well-being, even making his soul feel joyous enough to sing.

Looking around, Jun Xie realized he was somehow standing before the pagoda gate. Above him, three faint, archaic characters hovered: Hong Jun Pagoda!

Jun Xie stepped inside. The interior was vast and empty, filled only with the substantial, swirling white mist. Suddenly, the mist began to roll violently, slowly revealing two lines of large script: Exquisite Nine-Story Pagoda, Foremost Artistry of Antiquity!

Then, as the mist rolled faster and more agitatedly, a hazy chant suddenly materialized in Jun Xie’s consciousness. Jun Xie startled, and instantly, countless characters and diagrams spun furiously before his eyes, then rammed themselves into his awareness like forced feeding—like a speeding train that abruptly charged headlong into a tiny thatched hut! And having entered, the motion simply ceased…

In that instant, Jun Xie felt dizzy and lightheaded, his head threatening to explode, and he tumbled to the ground.

Opening his eyes, he found himself still lying on the damp, cold earth where he had been, but imprinted clearly in his mind was a cultivation manual, complete with corresponding human meridian charts and diagrams of various bodily postures…

“Creation of the Heavens Technique!” Jun Xie muttered, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes, his fists clenching tightly!