Dazed, dizzy, and plunging into absolute blackness—that was what Ye Wen currently felt. He couldn't even sense his own body or limbs, as if he had been reduced to a severely paralyzed patient.

He had no idea what had transpired, nor could he recall the cause that had rendered him this way.

But then, a searing pain erupted from his chest, jolting his entire frame, immediately followed by a sensation of lightness and weightlessness. A violent impact against his back and a deafening roar by his ears partially restored his senses.

Thud.

Compared to the earlier feeling of being trapped inside a sealed jar, Ye Wen now felt agonizing pain everywhere across his body. Yet, the relief was that he could finally sense his own existence.

However, his physical condition seemed dire. The pain itself was secondary; his consciousness, having snapped awake briefly from that sharp jolt of pain, instantly spiraled back into a haze. He felt certain he would soon descend back into the darkness.

In the periphery of his fading awareness, he saw a young woman in ancient robes looking at him with a complex expression. In that instant, Ye Wen had a bizarre thought: Am I dead? Is this fairy-like beauty a spirit emissary come to claim my soul?

Before he could even mock himself for such a nonsensical notion, his vision blackened again, and he plunged once more into the void...

Just as Ye Wen lost consciousness, a figure suddenly strode forward, bringing a massive saber down in a direct strike toward him. If the woman Ye Wen had imagined as a soul-reaping fairy hadn't thrust her longsword out, deflecting the heavy blade so it merely grazed Ye Wen’s shoulder as it slammed into the ground, Ye Wen might truly have departed for the underworld before even grasping what was happening.

“My senior brother is already unconscious. Does Your Excellency intend to press the attack and leave no survivors?” The woman in ancient dress held her longsword horizontally, her finely arched eyebrows drawn tight, exuding considerable presence.

Even the man who had just sent Ye Wen flying with a palm strike and was preparing to rush in for a follow-up blow was momentarily frozen in place by the woman’s imposing aura, daring not to advance carelessly.

The two faced off for a moment before the man flung his saber onto his shoulder, chuckling. “Heroine Ning, you jest. Our purpose here was merely a martial contest, not to take lives. But now that the victor is decided, the prize money…”

“My senior brother and I will honor the agreement.”

With that, she returned her longsword to its sheath, walked to the side of the collapsed Ye Wen, and stared at him with evident conflict for a few moments before letting out a long sigh. She then helped him up, half-carrying, half-supporting him on one shoulder as they departed.

From behind them drifted voices: “Is that the Master of the Shushan Sect? Truly pathetic.” “Brother Zhang only needed three moves to knock this boy senseless. How could someone like that become a sect leader?” “Setting aside everything else, losing the sect’s territory in just three moves means the sect itself has no need to exist…” “What a pity about that woman, though. Didn't expect such exquisite beauty in such a minor sect…”

Such remarks filled her heart with a profound complexity. She whispered softly, “Master… why did you pass the mantle of Sect Master to Senior Brother?” though she wasn't sure whom she was addressing.

...

Ye Wen, deep in his coma, felt an overwhelming discomfort and was caught in a continuous loop of dreams. These dreams seemed to recount the life of the same person, yet they were fragmented and disjointed; he couldn't connect the chaotic events.

The only parts he could recall with any clarity were scenes involving martial arts practice, perhaps due to his previous life experiences.

Born at the tail end of the twentieth century and raised across the millennium's turn, Ye Wen’s upbringing was much like that of most young people. Kindergarten, pre-school, primary school, middle school, and even university—if nothing unexpected happened, he was slated to officially enter society and begin a new life after that summer.

The only difference between Ye Wen and the majority was his lifelong passion for martial arts, a fact that deeply frustrated his father, who had wished his son would focus on scholarship and had deliberately chosen the character Wen (meaning ‘literature’ or ‘refined’) for his name.

From childhood, he devoured every form of combat training available, from Karate to Tai Chi. Although much of what was taught proved to be mere flashy posturing, useless in actual combat, the boy couldn't be stopped from seeking out brawls every now and then to "gain experience."

This tendency intensified after his father, who had raised him single-handedly, died in a sudden car accident, almost leading him down a truly disastrous path.

Fortunately, the young man eventually found his way onto the right track, gaining admission to university, where he kept a relatively low profile, avoiding any further major trouble.

What he never anticipated was that just before graduation, after sharing farewell drinks with friends, something unknown occurred. Ye Wen slowly opened his eyes, looked around his surroundings repeatedly, and still could not reconcile the current environment with the events of the preceding days.

He sat up on the strange bed. The hard surface beneath him didn't feel awkward; having grown accustomed to soft mattresses, he had never experienced sleeping on something so rigid. Yet, in this bizarre situation, he unexpectedly got a taste of it: the sensation wasn't that bad.

Looking at himself, he felt subtly different, yet the hands before him seemed intimately familiar. This confusing state persisted until he noticed the bronze mirror not far from the bedside, which provided a definitive conclusion.

“Who is this?” The face reflected in the mirror was not his own familiar one. Although the face was handsome and dashing enough to inspire jealousy in his former self, he felt no joy.

The information reflected in the mirror made it undeniably clear: he was no longer the ‘self’ he knew. In a completely bewildering turn of events, he had become someone else.

“Damn it. Did I run into a legendary soul possession transmigration?”

After sitting for a while, enough time for this modern youth, saturated with web novels, to grasp his predicament, he recalled the brief moment of clarity he’d had earlier.

“Clearly, this original body’s owner was beaten to death, and at that instant, I took over.”

He examined his hands. They appeared slender and relatively delicate, but the palms bore a layer of calluses, particularly pronounced around the tiger’s mouth area. Other than that, the hands showed no remarkable features. As for strength, Ye Wen felt these hands were weaker than his own fists, hardened by countless street fights in his previous life.

As his hands clenched, Ye Wen’s attention was drawn to the ring on his left index finger.

Initially, he had assumed it was just a plain iron band, as it lacked any intricate patterns and didn't appear to be gold or silver, so he hadn't paid it much mind. However, just now, as he forcefully made a fist, he suddenly felt something inside his body being drawn toward it.

“What is this?”

Before he could figure out what was happening, his vision blurred, and a thin piece of cloth suddenly materialized beside him, drifting downward toward the floor.

Ye Wen stared blankly for a long moment because he was absolutely certain he hadn't been holding anything, nor had his sleeve shortened. Where had this scrap of cloth come from?

Finally, his gaze settled on the ring. He sensed that just before the cloth appeared, something within him had been siphoned off into it, leaving his already fragile body feeling slightly weak.

“Is this thing sucking my blood?”

Having apparently lost one life already (otherwise, why soul transmigration instead of physical transfer?), Ye Wen cherished this second, unearned life immensely. Fear of the unknown made him anxious about his immediate safety.

Only after confirming that his life wasn't in immediate danger would he likely spare a thought for the thin piece of cloth already resting on the floor.

He removed the ring and carefully examined the spot where it had rested but found no abnormality, nor any wound that could have bled. Furthermore, he found no tiny needle or mechanism inside the ring’s inner surface designed to draw blood.

The lack of external signs somewhat eased his anxiety, and he slipped the ring back on. It was only then that he had the leisure to examine the piece of cloth that had suddenly appeared...

However, perhaps fate dictated that Ye Wen would not discover what the cloth was today, because the moment he fastened the ring back on, the door to the small room was pushed open.

The beautiful woman in ancient dress, glimpsed briefly during his moment of clarity, walked in carrying a bowl of medicinal soup. The sharp, acrid scent of the herbs immediately made Ye Wen wrinkle his brow.

The woman carrying the medicine also frowned. Perhaps she hadn't expected her senior brother to recover enough to be walking around so quickly. She felt both surprise and slight annoyance at his disregard for his injuries.

“Senior Brother, your wounds aren't healed. How can you be moving about casually? What if you’ve agitated your internal organs and worsened the injury?”

“It’s fine, I feel like nothing is wrong with my body…” Unfortunately, Ye Wen’s body proved too weak. As he attempted to stretch his arms and legs to demonstrate his well-being, a sudden, intense pain shot through his chest, bringing beads of cold sweat to his forehead.

Witnessing this, the woman in ancient dress could only sigh in resignation and help Ye Wen back onto the bed.

“Senior Brother, Zhang De’s palm strike hit your chest; it has damaged your internal organs. While there is no threat to your life, you must rest and recuperate properly to avoid leaving any hidden ailments.”

As she spoke, she handed the soup to Ye Wen to drink, continuously detailing the extent of the injuries he had sustained that day: “Furthermore, when I had the physician examine you, they found a wound at the back of your head as well, likely from hitting something when Zhang De knocked you away. The physician asked if you have any discomfort in your head upon waking.”

While pinching his nose to force the harsh medicinal soup down, Ye Wen mentally processed his current situation.

It was clear that he had transmigrated into an environment resembling or identical to ancient China, and the woman before him likely belonged to the same sect, being his junior sister.

However, from their conversation, he sensed that this "cheap" junior sister was not particularly fond of him. This was evident in how casually she spoke about him being severely beaten and injured, showing no regard for his feelings.

“It seems this body didn't fare well within the sect back then… I wonder if that cheap master will intervene on my behalf?”

Thinking this, Ye Wen decided he needed to gather more information about this body—at least learn something about his sect.

“It’s nothing much, but I can’t recall many things… Junior Sister, where are we now? Have we returned to the sect?”

As soon as he spoke, the woman’s expression became very strange, and the way she looked at him made him uneasy, making him doubt if he had said something wrong. “Did I say something amiss?”

“Senior Brother, have you forgotten? Because you lost that martial contest, our sect is gone.” As she spoke, her tone was filled with resentment. Though her delicate hands remained clasped before her, the sickening cracking sounds coming from her balled fists betrayed much.

“Why is our sect gone because I lost a contest?” Ye Wen’s mind hadn’t fully caught up; he didn't understand the connection between his defeat and the sect’s fate.

Unless...

Hearing his question, the woman’s face filled with astonishment, even washing away the fierce anger she’d held moments before. “Senior Brother, have you forgotten that you are the seventh Sect Master of this sect?”

“Mast—Sect Master?”

Ye Wen’s face darkened. He had considered that possibility, but he hadn't expected it to be true.

Seeing that her senior brother’s reaction didn't seem feigned, the woman concluded that his injuries were too severe, likely causing some form of soul-sickness. “Senior Brother, do you still remember who you are?”

“I…” Ye Wen looked at the woman before him. Other than knowing he had somehow become a sect leader and this beautiful woman was his junior sister, he truly knew nothing. He couldn't even recall the original name of this body.

Damn it, why couldn't the transmigration have included absorbing this body’s memories?

He grumbled internally while managing a wry smile and asking, “Who… am I?”

Hearing her senior brother ask this, the woman’s expression grew even more pained, her heart wrenching further. But remembering the command of her deceased Master, she forced a smile and replied, “Senior Brother, your Junior Sister and I are the last two disciples of our sect. Before Master passed away last month, he passed the position of Sect Master to you. Do you still remember all of that?”

Ye Wen adopted an expression of pained concentration, then shook his head firmly.

The woman took a deep breath. “Then do you still remember me? I am your Junior Sister Ning.”

“Ning?”

A thunderclap seemed to boom in Ye Wen’s mind, making him dizzy and nearly causing him to faint again. The information provided by Junior Sister Ning sparked a terrifying possibility.

Only two people left in the whole sect, I’m the Master, she’s my Junior Sister, and her surname is Ning…

“Could my surname be Yue?”

Ye Wen looked utterly crestfallen. He remembered a certain great sect leader who had sacrificed everything to revitalize her sect.

Fortunately, Junior Sister Ning responded with a look of genuine confusion: “Yue? Senior Brother, your surname is clearly Ye, and like me, you were an orphan Master picked up from the mountains. Because you loved reading since childhood, your name was given as ‘Wen.’”

“Ye Wen?”

Ye Wen hadn't expected the person he possessed to share his exact name, though their personalities and experiences were vastly different. Now that he had taken over, he couldn't tell if it was fortune or misfortune.

“Then Junior Sister’s full name is…?”

Since he was already suffering from amnesia, Ye Wen didn't mind letting the amnesia continue; he knew nothing now, so he felt he had no reason to hold back his questions.

“My surname is Ning, and my given name is Ru Xue.” When Ning Ru Xue mentioned her name, she seemed to recall something, and her reply lacked the previous crispness, carrying a slight shyness common to ordinary women.

Ye Wen attributed this shyness to ancient customs where women found it difficult to state their names plainly, unaware that Ning Ru Xue had always been forthright, acting more like a man than a delicate lady. The difficulty in speaking arose because she remembered that her Senior Brother—the deceased one—was the one who used to love reading and had helped name her back then.

But all of that was in the past, and Ye Wen knew none of the details, so he felt no strangeness. Ning Ru Xue quickly set aside her thoughts and focused on discussing the current situation with her Senior Brother.

In a few exchanges, Ye Wen finally grasped his current predicament.

He had a deceased Master—passed away last month.

The sect was called Shushan Sect, and he was its Master—but after losing that contest two days ago, he also lost the sect’s banner and its grounds.

There were only two people in the sect—himself and the Junior Sister before him.

Simply put, apart from having a Junior Sister who seemed unfriendly toward him, he possessed nothing else.

Once the situation was clear, silence fell between them. Seeing her Senior Brother sitting there with his head down, Ning Ru Xue vaguely recognized the image of her useless, indolent brother again.

This brother had always been inferior to her in everything since childhood: weaker in martial arts, lethargic in action, incapable of doing anything right, yet constantly buried in a worn-out book.

Yet, for some reason, the Master insisted on passing the Sect Master title to him. She had fully expected to be the next leader and believed she could make the Shushan Sect prosper.

Alas…

“Was it perhaps only because I am female?” Recalling that all previous sect masters had been men, Ning Ru Xue fixated on this possibility.

But she remained unconvinced. Should women not be allowed to lead a sect? Especially since there were not a few sects in the current Jianghu led by women, including some large sects that accepted both male and female disciples. Why was their small, humble sect so stubbornly conservative?

However, a Master’s order was sacred. Her Master had explicitly designated her Senior Brother as the successor before death, and she could not defy the dying wish. For now, she could only choose to obey: “Senior Brother, Master said that the heavy responsibility of reviving this sect now rests with you…”

Ye Wen felt a wave of exasperation, as this statement sounded strangely familiar. But before he could react, the celestial beauty of his Junior Sister uttered a sentence that left him dumbfounded.

“If you cannot manage it, then you should hand the position of Sect Master over to me as soon as possible.” Without waiting for Ye Wen’s reaction, she picked up the empty bowl and turned, exiting the room.