The Gan Dynasty was forged upon the overwhelming might of the Gu clan. When the empire rotted under corruption and noble excess, the famed Marshal of the Gu clan rose in defiance. He led a daring revolt, marched his army to the capital, and from its conquered heart established the Gan Dynasty.
It became a central imperial power ruling over semi-autonomous tributary kingdoms, keeping five realms in submission through its legendary Immortal Phoenix Army—an army that had never known defeat since its founding.
Thirty years from now, at the Battle of Tu'lu, when Si finally crossed paths with the Immortal Phoenix Army, his undying horde would taste defeat for the first time, and he would barely escape with his life. That was the root of his resentment.
"In my past life, I only obtained the supreme art after the war between Jinshan and Yunhe had begun. I knew little of cultivation and had no master to guide me, so I made countless mistakes and could only join the war three years after it began. My contributions were limited, and in the end, all I managed to seize was the position of Bi clan patriarch."
Si lifted his hand, his frail palm blotting out the moon.
"I know everything about the secret technique now. I can begin cultivating it tonight. With my knowledge, I can recover my strength swiftly. If I play my cards right, within the next decade, I will become King of Yunhe."
He clenched his fist, eyes blazing with fighting spirit. This second chance would not be wasted. After setting the central plains ablaze, he would march upon the heavens with his undying horde and make them repay every ounce of suffering he had endured.
Delay is not denial.
"King of Yunhe? Patriarch of the Bi clan? You've lost your mind today. Eat first!"
Before Si could respond, Bao stuffed a rice ball into his mouth and burst into laughter like a child delighted by his own prank. Si stared at him, his eyes heavy with emotions he could barely comprehend.
In his previous life, the supreme art of death had stripped him of everything, even his emotions. At first the emptiness had felt unnatural, but after three centuries it had become part of him. Now, reincarnated to a time before his feelings were sealed away, he was an emotional wreck. That was why he had been unable to control his tears earlier that day.
Within him stood two selves. On one side, the cold and solitary general whose name inspired terror across kingdoms. On the other, a fifteen-year-old boy—neglected, beaten, and unwanted—whose only comfort was Bao, the sole warmth in a life devoid of affection from a father who despised him.
Bao was the most important person in his life. In fact, Bao's death a year from now had been the very catalyst that drove him to cultivate a demonic martial path.
Yet now, this irreplaceable piece of his existence sat before him, alive and laughing. Si did not know how to feel. Emotions surged through him like a storm, and fearing their pull, he forced them down, sealing them away once more.
He took a large bite of the rice ball, then pulled it away, chewing and swallowing before he spoke.
"Do you still feel chills in your chest at night?"
The question made Bao instinctively clutch his chest, like a wounded animal guarding its injury. Avoiding Si's gaze, he forced a smile and shook his head.
"What are you talking about? I feel great!"
Si watched him impassively. That was typical Bao—always pretending, always sparing him worry. Even in his final moments, Bao had kept him away so he would not witness his death. When Si had finally been allowed to see the body, the dried tear marks on Bao's face told a silent story. He had cried until the end, likely terrified, dying alone.
I will protect you in this life.
As the memory resurfaced, his doubts and hesitation vanished. In that instant, he set himself a lifelong goal. No matter the cost, Bao would survive this time. Bao would live happily. He will be the only soul, safe from the chaos and bloodshed he would bring upon the central plains.
"Let me help you with the cold."
Si's voice turned firm as he placed his hand boldly against Bao's chest.
"W–whoa, slow down. I love you, brother, but not like that." Bao laughed nervously, trying to pry Si's hand away.
"Stay still."
"Yes, sir."
Bao did not understand why, but whenever Si spoke with that steady gaze, his thoughts froze and his body obeyed.
What Bao suffered from was an excess of extreme yin qi. Fortunately, the supreme art of death was the perfect counter.
This dark art could not be cultivated with any form of qi other than extreme yin qi. That was why battlefields and graveyards were the ideal grounds for its practice.
Bam.
Two fingers tapped lightly against Bao's chest. At first, he felt nothing. Seconds later, however, the biting cold within his body began to recede. The lingering disturbance faded until it vanished entirely. For the first time in years, warmth flooded his limbs. His face flushed red, and his perpetually clogged lungs opened as though freed from invisible chains, each breath clearer and fresher than he had ever known.
While Bao inhaled and exhaled greedily, staring at Si in stunned disbelief as he touched his own chest, Si took another bite of his rice ball. He frowned when he realized it had gone cold in his hand. Without hesitation, he shoved the rest into his mouth and chewed, eyes fixed on the crescent moon overhead.
"How did you—"
Si pressed cold fingers to Bao's lips, silencing him. Their eyes met, and Si spoke evenly.
"I'll be spending the nights outside from now on. Don't ask questions."
With that, he picked up another rice ball from the wooden bowl and continued eating. Unbeknownst to him, Bao sat frozen, shaken by the look in his eyes. He could not understand how his only friend had changed so drastically in a single day.