Li Shan slowly opened his eyes, finding himself lying in a spacious room filled with the faint scent of dried flowers. Silken drapes the color of twilight clouds hung from the ceiling, and the ebony floor gleamed beneath his feet.
Ink-brushed paintings adorned the walls every corner spoke of nobility and luxury.
He rose from the bed, its frame embroidered with threads of gold, and stood before a bronze mirror framed with carvings of dragons and phoenixes.
"It worked..."
He whispered, barely audible. He gazed at his reflection a young man with long, black hair flowing like ink and eyes as dark and bottomless as the void he had carried within his soul for eons. The emptiness of immortality echoed within them.
At long last, fortune had smiled upon him.
He still couldn't believe it—the Eternal Moon Dragonfly had succeeded. It had shattered the Dao that had lived within him for thousands of years and transported him into this new body.
Li Shan gripped his head tightly as memories surged—memories that were not his own. They tangled with his own thoughts. The original owner of this body was called Ling Bai, the third son of the noble Ling Clan, one of the distinguished families of the Heavenly Kingdom of Wei, one of the Three Celestial Kingdoms.
A bitter laugh escaped Li Shan as he sank into a lotus-carved chair.
"What a twist of fate… I didn't just die—I was reborn as One of Main characters l!"
And not just any character—but the heroine's brother, who would later become the Supreme General of Wei, and the right hand of the protagonist who would unite the continent and establish the mighty Jin Empire.
Placing a hand on his face, a wicked smile curled his lips—a grin forged in the fires of the abyss.
"Eternal Moon Dragonfly… you've saved me thousands of years of effort."
Suddenly, a soft knock echoed through the room, followed by the entrance of a servant girl clad in dark green robes. She bowed gracefully.
"Young master, the Marquis and the rest of the family await you in the main dining hall."
Li Shan gestured without turning:
"Thank you. Tell them I'll be there shortly."
She bowed again and exited, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.
He turned to his reflection once more. With calm precision, he tied his long hair with a black silk ribbon and donned a green robe embroidered with intertwined dragons—the symbol of his new lineage.
As he walked through the corridors of the Ling Estate, lined with wax lanterns and ornate porcelain vases, his thoughts drifted far beyond the present.
How could he end the path of immortality once and for all?
To do that, he would have to find the Lord of Death.
In this world, the Dao was not just a philosophy or an abstract energy—it was a living will, fed by ambition, desire, and the yearning to rise above. Every cultivator, every seeker of immortality, nourished it. It was the root of all ascension.
But in the ancient annals of the world, there was one exception.
The Lord of Death—not merely a title, but the embodiment of a principle that stood in defiance of the Dao itself.
If the Dao symbolized life, growth, and transcendence, then the Lord of Death was its opposite: a force that stripped all things of purpose, of striving, of permanence. Under his shadow, there was no immortality—only silence, only oblivion.
"That is my plan..." Li Shan murmured to himself.
"But until then, I must tread carefully. I won't risk attracting the gaze of the Heavenly Will... or worse, the Dao itself."
He walked as if every step echoed through eternity.
Before long, he stood before the grand dining hall doors.
Straightening his back, he took a deep breath, and a quiet determination settled in his gaze.
"Li Shan is no more. From this day forth... I am Ling Bai."