Hahahaha—Qiren laughed inwardly, the sound echoing only inside his mind. I must have performed some forbidden ritual to end up in a place like this.
Who would've imagined that trying to exorcise misfortune—just to flip his own luck—would end with his death?
The thing holding him aloft began to weaken. The strands of living hair slackened, and the severed head they carried drooped… then toppled. It rolled into his lap, flooding him with vertigo. Instinctively, his small, weak arms caught it before it tumbled out of the hollow.
The strange power that had kept him functional while headless receded—slipping back into the depths of his tiny abdomen. He stared at his own head. It stared back.
Am I… a headless ghost now? he muttered mentally.
Forming thoughts was still difficult. He assumed it was because of his new, infantile body—soft, weak, barely coordinated.
Now that he could finally see his own face and limbs, the conclusion was obvious. Qiren adjusted the dismembered head, settling it neatly on his lap, facing outward.
The storm around him eased. Debris still whipped through the air, but the winds no longer screamed. Visibility improved. For the first time since his hatching, he could see the world he'd been thrown into.
In the distance, floating islands drifted through the storm-wracked sky—each crowned with massive amethyst pillars jutting from their landmasses. Some stood rooted in the center, others leaned at strange angles along the edges. A few were broken, leaving jagged stumps behind. None looked man-made; they were raw crystalline growths pushing through the terrain.
He scanned his surroundings. Near the eastern ridge of the island he had landed on, he saw another cluster of amethyst formations—identical to the others.
So I'm on a floating island too, he realized.
Shapes moved in the distance—faint silhouettes gliding through the storm. Dozens circled one of the tallest pillars.
From here, the pillar looked like a mountain of violet crystal, its peak swallowed by clouds—and flying through those clouds were families of demonic beasts.
He couldn't make out details, but one thought clung to him:
Are those the same creatures… the same species… as the thing that attacked me?
If each flock held dozens—and each pillar housed that many—there could be hundreds. Thousands across the archipelago of floating land.
He waited, motionless, letting time pass—twenty minutes, maybe thirty—as the rain softened.
Unconsciously, his new body slipped into a natural rhythm. He inhaled threads of something invisible—energy—drawing it in through his skin, storing it deep within. The rhythm deepened until—
Two crystalline droplets shimmered into view before his inner sight, slowly rotating until they locked into a vast, hollow Taijitu.
A rush of euphoria flooded him, washing away the weariness clinging to his soul. In that haze, something ancient stirred—memories not his own.
An inheritance.
The first revelation was the names of the droplets:
The translucent black droplet—dark, cold, almost hollow—Spirit Core: a karmic reservoir recording one's karmic deeds.
The second droplet, veined with crimson light, barely filled with the Qi he'd stolen from the Demonic Realm—Daoist Aperture: the wellspring of mystical energy guiding cultivation and resonance with Daoist Treasures.
The next memory was his name. His true name.
He whispered it into the storm, a soundless vibration running through his new soul:
"…Qìrén Vhal'Zerath."
When he opened his eyes, they fell on the nearest amethyst pillar—towering, humming, alive.
"A soul-spawn…" he murmured. "So that's what I am now."
The inheritance explained the pillars. They were Soul Anchors—structures that dragged drifting soul-fragments, fractured remnants of the dead, down into the Demonic Realm, where they were reshaped and reforged into eggs each birth cycle—fuel to sustain the upper realms with fresh demonkin.
He touched the stump of his neck and exhaled.
"So… I was one of the souls drawn here after death."
The realization was unexpected. For the first time since arriving, he smiled.
"Haha… it's true—only those who've died once can truly appreciate life." The smile faded, replaced by faint contempt as he stared at his own severed head resting in his lap. "Though from what information I've been given so far, I seem to be an anomaly… retaining this much of my past-life memory."
"Perhaps my bad-luck-warding ritual wasn't in vain after all."
The rain thinned to a drizzle. Moonlight slipped through the parting clouds. Qiren laughed softly as he reached toward the sides of his head.
"Most people would kill for a second chance at life."
He lifted his face above the neck stump—then slammed it back down with a dull crack, not caring as the bamboo handle jutted deeper into the flesh.
"Shouldn't I be grateful too? Even if I didn't know what came after reincarnation, I've got a broader worldview now. Curses, rituals, calling on mirror phantoms, reincarnation… If someone had told me any of this before, I'd have dragged them straight to the clinic for medication."
He glanced at the broken branches around him, the hollow that sheltered him and out to the silent stormy sky.
"But look at me now."
He closed all his eyes and retreated to the farthest corner of his mind.
Applicable Curses & Blessings
Unnamed Bad Luck Spirit Curse
47 Despair
3 Hope
30 Years of Life Experience
(You may transfer emotions, physical conditions, knowledge, experiences, spirits, blessings, or curses onto others.)
Rituals
Bad Luck Cleansing (Incomplete) — A flawed counterfeit ritual, yet workable for someone with latent spiritual affinity.
Current Emotional Balance
47 Despair | 3 Hope
Physical Attributes
Strength: 8
Speed: 8
Agility: 14
Negative Karma: 14
Refinement Qi: 2
Knowledge & Experiences
Medical Knowledge…
Exorcised Spirits (Sealed)
1 — Bad Luck Spirit
Current Lifespan
7↑ Years, 5↑ Days, 12↑ Hours
The words hovered before him—blurred, fragmented. Qiren squinted inwardly, trying to parse them without the convenience of a phone screen. It wasn't impossible, just… sluggish. He forced his mind open the same way he had during the inheritance.
The blurry information began to waver. A soft rippling sound—like fabric slowly unraveling—echoed through his consciousness. Then the fragments drew together, threads tightening, until the text solidified across a sheet of silver parchment unfurling like a scroll.
"Seven years, five days, and twelve hours…"
Even as a demon, he couldn't catch a break with lifespan.
But the smirk on his lips didn't fade.
"That's enough for now."
"As long as I can figure out how to strengthen myself through Qi, I might be able to break through and extend my life expectancy. If there's Qi here, then this world really is like those cultivation novels I've read. And if that doesn't work…"
He paused, thoughtful.
"I can always make a deal for lifespan. I remember that being an option when I was about to die on Earth. Who's to say it isn't possible here? I might have to re-enact the ritual, since I don't know how—well… I don't know how to get that last message I got.
The ritual I was following should have ended with me exorcising my curse using my mirror phantoms lashing-brush, not with it appearing and possessing my phone."
He stood, stepping out of the hollowed tree cavity and onto the massive branch outside.
The wind brushed against his face, tossing his hair.