“Cough… ugh—!”

In a dim room, Ethan Sullivan suddenly jerked up from the bed, hacking up a mouthful of blood.

“Damn… it hurts… Where the hell am I?”

“Wait, wasn’t I pushed off a building by that assassin? Didn’t I die?”

His eyes cracked open, pain twisting his face. In the next second, a flood of unfamiliar memories slammed into his brain—his skull felt like it was splitting.

“Hongfeng City Base?”

“This body’s name is also Ethan Sullivan?!”

“This is still Blue Star? But... Barrier? Martial Artists? Beasts?”

Digging through the memories in his head, Ethan’s eyes widened. Waves of disbelief surged in his heart.

Moments later, he got the full picture—he’d traveled through time.

Still the same planet, but this was two thousand years in the future. And everything had changed.

Two thousand years ago, the world was flipped upside down—spiritual energy returned, disasters followed, and chaos ruled. Humanity, facing extinction, turned to ancient Huaxia texts, stepping onto the path of martial cultivation. A new martial civilization rose from the ashes.

Then a thousand years ago, a crack in space ripped open. Beasts flooded in by the endless tide. Humanity was pushed back, forced to build sky-high barriers, retreating into base strongholds to hold the line.

Ethan now lay in one such base—Hongfeng City—barely more than a weak fortress.

The former Ethan, the original owner of this body, wasn’t born in the gutter. His parents were official martial artists—a rare thing, a three-person martial family.

Martial ranks were split: Tempering, Martial Disciple, Martial Artist, Martial General, Martial Commander, Martial King...

Even being a proper Martial Disciple meant status and respect.

So this kid by all accounts should’ve had a bright path ahead.

But fate had other plans—his body had the worst kind of garbage physique: a Clouded Root. Dead-end. Utter trash.

His parents burned through their life savings, even borrowed from anyone who would lend, just to push him into the path. But not even the first level, Tempering Realm, could be reached.

And that wasn’t rock bottom.

Recently, his parents died on a hunt outside the barrier. Gone, just like that.

Without them, the boy was left with nothing—no support, no help.

In a blink, his world grew cold and harsh. He learned fast what it meant to be truly alone.

And just yesterday, he was beaten within an inch of his life by two bullies. No healing, no aid. He died—just like that.

Ethan clenched his fists at the wave of bitter memories.

“Shit… This life I’ve walked into is a damn tragedy!”Ethan Sullivan sucked in a cold breath, eyes wide, "So what's the damn point of crossing over? Might as well have died in the fall!"

If you can't become a warrior in this world, you're nothing but scum—bullied, insulted, not even a chance for payback. Better off dead!

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

"You little shit! Open this door right now!"

The pounding on the door came with arrogant yelling, crashing through the silence.

Hearing the voice outside, Ethan froze. Suddenly, image after image burst through his mind.

Being mocked like dirt—called trash, useless. Even his recently passed parents were cursed.

People dumped garbage and pissed right at his door, the stench unbearable.

Cornered in the stairwell, extorted for money. Refuse, and they pulled his hair, slapped his face.

Every bit of that humiliation came from one man—Gavin Drake, who lived across the hall.

When Ethan's parents were alive, Gavin called him “Young Master Sullivan.”

When they went missing—“Hey, you brat!”

When their deaths were confirmed—“You damn waste!”

It spiraled from there—Gavin getting worse, more savage by the day.

And now, here he was again.

“Damn it, this guy was way too soft! Took all that bullshit and didn’t even grab a knife!?”

Ethan's fists clenched, veins bulging. His anger surged.

He wasn't the type to hold grudges—because once he had one, he settled it fast.

Living like this? Like his former self? No way in hell.

“Where’s a blade? Give me a damn knife—I'm done taking this!”

He spotted a black Tang sword on the wall, pushed up to get it, ready to go all-in.

But pain ripped through his body like a lightning strike, draining every ounce of strength.

“Damn! That hurts—damn that bastard to hell!”

Pale-faced, clutching his chest, Ethan’s eyes turned bloodshot, fury boiling.

*Boom! Boom! Boom!*

The door shook under kicks now, Gavin going all out. If this wasn’t a qi-rich era with stronger wood, the door would've been gone.

“This door won’t hold long. What now?"

Ethan gritted his teeth. “Just sit here and die? Like hell I will!”

Then—out of nowhere—a strange voice echoed in his head.

*Ding! One-Click Cultivation System successfully bound. Activating...*

"1%... 12%... 56%..."