Chapter One: Rebirth in Another World

Shi Yan jolted awake, his head splitting with pain, his skull feeling as if it were filled with lead, unbearably heavy. He found himself in a dim stone cavern, the size of a basketball court. Piled bones littered the rocky floor, and a dozen or so corpses in bizarre garb were scattered beside him. Their clothes were still bright and new, suggesting they hadn’t been dead long.

Where was this place? Was he still in the Bahama Islands of the Caribbean?

Shi Yan was an adrenaline junkie, a fanatic for extreme sports bordering on obsession. He was twenty-seven, his mother having died young. His father, who had amassed a fortune over a lifetime, passed away in his prime from cancer, leaving Shi Yan a legacy vast enough to last ten lifetimes.

What others spent their lives striving for, he had possessed from the start. Yet, with youth and wealth laid before him, he struggled to find purpose. The aimlessness of his privileged existence left him restless, perpetually dissatisfied.

At seventeen, he discovered extreme sports, and for the first time, life became fascinating. With his boundless resources, he plunged into pursuits beyond the reach of ordinary people.

Barehanded rock climbing, crocodile bungee jumping, low-altitude skydiving, volcano boarding, cliff diving, skating beneath speeding cars—all manner of insane stunts became his greatest joys.

He reveled in the rush that came from dancing on the edge of death—the heart-stopping thrill that made his blood sing.

In ten years, he had tried every wild and perilous sport, always seeking out the most dangerous, most lethal adventure.

A decade of pushing his limits had honed his body to extraordinary levels. Hundreds of brushes with death had forged nerves of steel; he often joked that he was Death’s closest companion.

His final challenge was exploring the Blue Holes of the Bahamas—some stretching hundreds of meters deep, others twisting like labyrinths. Stirring the silt at the bottom with the slightest movement could cloud the water so completely that even the brightest torch would be useless.

Thus, no matter how skilled a diver, before entering a Blue Hole, one must always secure a steel cable—a lifeline. Reaching the end of the wire marked the farthest point of the dive; to venture farther was to court death, for without that guide, no one could find their way out of the maze.

According to maritime records, about twenty elite divers perished in the Blue Holes each year, most dying lost in those underwater mazes.

For his ultimate thrill, Shi Yan had deliberately abandoned his lifeline, embarking on a suicidal escapade. He vanished, swallowed by the mysteries of the Blue Hole.

And in the Blue Hole, to be lost meant death…

He lay limp on the cold, rocky ground, examining his surroundings by the flickering strange light on the cavern walls. Odd fragments of memory that weren’t his own crept into his mind.

They belonged to another Shi Yan…

This boy, sharing his name, was only seventeen and obsessed with archaeology, fanatically exploring ancient ruins. He had braved six months of hardship to reach this place, drawn by a tattered old map, accompanied by family guards.

Shi Yan frowned and struggled to his feet, feeling weak and frail.

In that instant, he realized this body was not his own but belonged to the seventeen-year-old Shi Yan.

His face changed drastically—he stood there, stunned and dumbstruck.

So, I truly did die in the Blue Hole. No, I’m still alive—alive in an utterly incomprehensible way!

From the other Shi Yan’s memories, he learned this world was called Grace Continent—a land without technology, plagued by endless wars, where warriors reigned supreme.

Here, many were born with strange gifts—some wielded lightning from infancy, others commanded plants, some could pass through earth at will, others communicated with beasts, and some were born with the power of frost…

These myriad talents were known as Martial Spirits, mysterious powers that most often manifested at birth and were rarely acquired by chance. This rarity led the continent to be named Grace Continent, for its people believed these gifts were divine blessings.

Not all warriors possessed a Martial Spirit. In fact, most did not. Ordinary people could train to become warriors but could not acquire a Martial Spirit through effort alone. Those with Martial Spirits, however, advanced faster, gained greater power, and wielded unique abilities.

Thus, among warriors of equal rank, those with Martial Spirits were vastly superior, destined for greater achievements. Their natural advantage made them stand out on the path of cultivation.

Martial Spirits were often inherited. If one parent possessed a Martial Spirit, the child had a good chance of inheriting the same. If both parents had Martial Spirits, the chance was greater, but almost always, the child inherited only one.

Rarely, a child born to such a union would inherit neither parent’s Martial Spirit—becoming ordinary. This happened only once in a hundred cases.

Even rarer, a child could inherit both parents’ Martial Spirits, resulting in Twin Martial Spirits—a prodigy known as a Child of the Gods. This phenomenon occurred only once in ten thousand such families.

Shi Yan stood dazed, sifting through the scattered memories in his mind…

The original owner of this body belonged to the Shi family of the Commerce Alliance. The family’s Martial Spirit was Petrification, allowing their bodies to become as hard as stone in battle, impervious to most attacks. As they advanced, the power grew, granting near invulnerability.

Unfortunately, this Shi Yan had not inherited Petrification. The family deemed him unfit for martial training, and he himself had no interest in the martial arts, devoting his energy to exploring ruins.

It was the old map that had led him on this journey, and without it, he never would have found this ancient, hidden cave, shrouded by dense foliage.

Suddenly, a wailing, ghostly sound echoed through the cavern, sending a chill through Shi Yan. He snapped his gaze to the blood pool at the cavern’s center.

The pool, only ten square meters across, was filled with thick, crimson liquid. Bubbles rose and burst with a ghastly, howling sound, like the cries of the dead.

He now understood: the newly dead guards beside him had gone mad from the pool’s wailing, slaughtering each other in a frenzy. The other Shi Yan, too, had collapsed from the terror of those shrieks.

It was all because of the blood pool!

Shi Yan glared at the pool, his face grim. The unending howls battered his nerves, stirring a murderous urge deep within him—an impulse to kill everyone around him.

His head still throbbed, the pool’s cries tormenting him, making it nearly impossible to focus.

There was something unnatural about the pool!

He steadied himself, drawing upon the resilience honed by years of courting death. Though his head pounded, he remained calm and approached the blood pool step by step.

With each step, brittle bones snapped underfoot. Shi Yan’s expression was grave—judging by the countless remains, many had died here long before his group arrived. This pool was the source of all evil; to investigate it seemed pure folly.

The closer he drew, the sharper the howls pierced his mind—like knives driven into his skull. The frenzy and bloodlust embedded in the sound threatened to shatter his reason. Were it not for his abnormal toughness, he would have succumbed already.

Around the pool, bones were scattered everywhere; even within the pool, milky-white bones floated just beneath the surface. This small pool was a bloody sea, having devoured countless lives.

He sensed that his soul’s arrival here was deeply linked to this sinister pool. Perhaps, if he could unravel its mystery, he might find a way back—to the familiar world, to the Blue Hole in the Bahamas.

As he neared the pool, he noticed something odd: the thick, red liquid didn’t smell of blood at all.

On the contrary, the air was surprisingly fresh, tinged with a peculiar, alluring fragrance—and that scent came from the blood pool itself.

Shi Yan’s curiosity intensified; he was now certain the pool held some profound secret.

He took a few more steps, when suddenly a vision flooded his mind—a boundless sea of blood, endless piles of bones forming islands. Some were intact, as massive as dinosaur skeletons from the Cretaceous. In the sea, a voice echoed relentlessly: “Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!”

Shi Yan clung to his will, but his heart raced uncontrollably, a suffocating terror pressing in on him. He felt the chilling presence of death closer than ever before.

He knew that with the next step, he might die.

Yet all his years of dancing with death hadn’t made him afraid—in fact, he relished this moment! To face death head-on, to seek life in the shadow of mortality—this was the essence of extreme sports.

Step by step, undeterred by the blood pool’s crushing pressure, Shi Yan reached the edge. Looking down at the small, sinister pool, the madness within him surged. He roared, “Let’s see what secrets you hold, little blood pool!”

With a cold laugh, Shi Yan leapt into the pool.

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P.S.: New book released—please recommend and add to your collections! (*^__^*)