Chapter 1: Twin Martial Spirit
In a dim, antique room, Xiao Yi suddenly jolted awake.
"Huh? I'm... not dead?" That was his first thought.
He immediately scanned his surroundings. Unfamiliar. His instincts kicked in. Without hesitation, he raised his arm to check his body—ready to spring into action.
But as his hand moved, a sharp pain surged through him, turning his arm weak and limp.
Why am I so weak?
...
Xiao Yi—Chinese, a martial arts prodigy.
A master of Xingyiquan, he had cultivated true internal strength. When ignorant foreigners mocked Chinese martial arts as mere fancy movements with no practical use, he proved them all wrong—violently.
In a burst of fury, he swept through underground fighting arenas across the globe, leaving behind a legendary record: three hundred consecutive wins.
He didn't just defeat gold-belt champions—he destroyed them. None lasted more than ten moves.
The name Xingyiquan became a whispered nightmare in the world's underground fighting circles.
But Xiao Yi was more than a fighter. He was a killer.
Ranked Number One on the global assassin list, he was the uncrowned king of killers—undefeated, unstoppable. With a 100% mission success rate, he was a legend feared by all.
Clients fought for his services, offering unimaginable sums. But Xiao Yi had ethics. He drew a line.
If the mission harmed China, he refused.
He was a patriot. Though he roamed abroad, his heart remained tethered to his homeland.
So, when a top-tier mercenary group accepted a covert anti-China mission—despite his warning—he unleashed hell. Overnight, he wiped out the number one mercenary team in the world.
From that day forward, China became a forbidden zone for mercenaries.
Even elite foreign agents and spies feared to tread its soil. When operatives from Country M dared infiltrate China, Xiao Yi hunted them down mercilessly. Legends of the intelligence world perished under his blade.
No matter how well-trained or equipped, none escaped.
The world took notice. China became a no-man's-land for spies and mercenaries.
But with fame came enemies. Xiao Yi topped the underworld's bounty list. The reward for his death was astronomical.
Yet every killer who accepted the job... vanished without a trace.
To even mention his name was taboo.
A few days ago, a secret message reached him.
A team of foreign mercenaries, disguised as archaeologists, had unearthed a priceless Chinese artifact—and smuggled it abroad.
Xiao Yi couldn't allow it.
He tracked the team, slaughtered them, and reclaimed the relic. But just as he was about to leave—
He was surrounded.
Hundreds of armed enemies closed in—elite agents from Country M, unfamiliar mercenaries, top-tier assassins.
A trap.
The mercenary team had been bait. Multiple global powers had joined forces in a conspiracy to eliminate him.
Even Xiao Yi couldn't avoid it.
Still, he wasn't afraid. He fought like a demon, ready to carve a bloody path through the siege. He would survive, even if gravely injured—and hunt them all down later.
But just as he neared escape, a drop of his blood fell onto the ancient relic.
A blinding light engulfed him.
His body went numb. Limbs powerless. He could only watch as his enemies approached, grinning victoriously.
No one knew he always carried a trump card:
A miniature bomb.
Enough to obliterate everything in a 100-meter radius. Even in routine missions, he kept it with him—for emergencies like this.
As he triggered the device, his enemies' smiles turned to terror.
BOOM.
The explosion engulfed them all.
"If I die... you're coming with me." That was the Xiao Yi way.
...
"Hahaha..." Xiao Yi laughed aloud.
"It was worth it. Even in death, I buried them all."
"Ugh, it hurts..." The laughter stopped. Weakness surged through his limbs.
Wait... I'm alive?
His eyes widened in disbelief. He could feel pain. Weakness. That meant—
He wasn't dead.
In the next moment, a rush of unfamiliar memories surged into his mind.
"What the hell?! I transmigrated?!"
Even someone as hardened as Xiao Yi couldn't help but curse.
He was no longer on Earth. This was Yanlong Continent—a foreign world resembling Earth's ancient past.
Here, strength ruled, and warriors reigned supreme. With enough power, you could dominate all.
He had transmigrated into the body of a youth... who had just died.
Coincidentally, this youth was also named Xiao Yi.
A scion of one of the three major families in Ziyun City—the Xiao Clan. The only son of the current patriarch.
But his life had been tragic. His mother died young. His father vanished mysteriously. He was raised by a family elder.
At sixteen, he remained stuck at the 1st Layer of the Mortal Realm, far behind his peers. Though technically the young patriarch, he was a disgrace to the clan.
Laughed at. Bullied. Called trash.
Xiao Yi curled his lip. "Same name... different fate. Man, you had it rough."
As he combed through memories, he understood how this body died.
His fiancée, Murong Jiao'er, had invited him to the back mountain days ago. Naively, he'd thought she wanted a romantic rendezvous.
Instead, he found her waiting with Xiao Ruohan—his own cousin.
The two kissed in front of him.
Betrayal.
Xiao Ruohan, a clan genius and son of the Fifth Elder, was a 7th Layer Mortal Realm cultivator.
With a single palm strike, he shattered Xiao Yi's heart and pushed him off a cliff.
The boy lingered for three days in agony before dying.
Now, Xiao Yi—the real one—inhabited this broken body.
His eyes turned cold.
"What a vicious woman. And that damn cousin…"
"I died taking enemies with me. But you—" he sighed, "—you died so uselessly."
"Well, now that I'm here, I'll make things right."
He didn't like owing debts—even to the dead.
He delved deeper into this world's knowledge.
In Yanlong Continent, every true martial artist awakened a Martial Spirit—a soul-bound entity that enhanced their strength and abilities.
The earlier the awakening, the greater the potential.
Martial Spirits came in many forms:
Weapon Spirits – swords, spears, halberds.
Beast Spirits – lions, tigers, mythical creatures.
Plant Spirits – flowers, trees, herbs.
And rarer, more bizarre types that defied logic.
Spirits were ranked by seven grades: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Purple, and Gold.
The stronger the spirit, the greater the future.
Take Xiao Ruohan—his Martial Spirit was the Yellow-Rank Firecloud Python, capable of summoning blazing serpents to scorch his foes.
In this world, a Martial Spirit defined everything—power, speed, combat potential.
"Interesting..." Xiao Yi smirked. "This world might actually be fun."
Then he froze.
A strange sensation pulsed near his dantian.
He focused his senses—and nearly faceplanted in shock.
A silly-looking, red-glowing creature floated near his dantian.
A Red-Rank Fire-Control Beast.
"…Are you serious?" Xiao Yi's face twitched.
The name sounded fierce, but in reality, it was the weakest monster on the continent.
Timid. Feeble. Preyed on by rabbits. Wolves could eat it in one gulp.
Even a normal adult could punt it across a field.
"No wonder they called you trash." Xiao Yi sighed.
Of all Martial Spirits, this one was a joke—even less useful than pigs or dogs.
Its only ability?
Control fire.
He gave it a try. A tiny flame flickered in his palm.
It was so small, it might lose a fight to a cigarette lighter.
"Goddamn it..."
Fire Control Beast. The name sounded impressive—commanding, even—but the reality was a harsh slap in the face.
In the wilderness, it was the weakest kind of creature.
In fact, calling it a "beast" was already giving it too much credit. It was more of a joke among monsters. It couldn't even win a fight against an ordinary wild animal. It spent its days sluggish and dull, nibbling on rabbits and other defenseless prey. A single swipe from a wolf or tiger would end its pathetic life. Even an average adult with no cultivation could probably punt it into the sky with one kick.
"My god, bro, you really awakened that thing? No wonder everyone calls you trash." Xiao Yi was speechless.
The Fire Control Beast—widely recognized as the most useless Martial Spirit. Even among the lowest-tier red-rank spirits, it was considered bottom-tier, worse than domestic animals like pigs, dogs, cows, or sheep. At least those offered some boost in physical strength. But this one? It gave you nothing except the ability to control a bit of fire.
Out of curiosity, Xiao Yi activated the Martial Spirit. A small flicker of flame burst into life in his palm.
He stared at it, unimpressed.
In his previous life, that flame wouldn't have even lit a cigarette. Using it in combat? Forget it. He'd be better off with a matchstick.
At sixteen, most martial artists had already reached Mortal Realm Level 3. Xiao Yi? He was stuck at Level 1—the absolute lowest. The other youths of the Xiao Clan, even those with poor talent, had at least awakened orange-rank spirits. Those were still useful, even if barely.
But him? He got this. The laughingstock of martial spirits.
No wonder he was a clan heir in name only. Ridiculed, looked down upon, bullied by even the younger kids.
In this world, your Martial Spirit practically determined your entire future.
Xiao Yi sighed but didn't let the despair take root.
"When the mountains collapse, everyone has to find their own way out," he muttered, eyes gleaming with pride. "With my unique physique and mastery of Yi Quan, even without a powerful Martial Spirit, I'll carve out my own path in this world."
He dismissed the weak flame in his palm, no longer interested in it. But just as he was about to relax, something strange happened.
His expression stiffened.
"Huh?"
He felt it—deep within his dantian—something else was there. Not the pitiful Fire Control Beast, but another presence. A second Martial Spirit.
It was shaped like a sword. And not just any sword—it glowed with an intense, majestic purple, so deep it was almost black.
His heart skipped a beat.
"This... this is the ice luan Sword! How is this possible? How did it become my Martial Spirit? And it's... a purple-rank spirit?!"
Shock and joy flooded him.
The ice luan Sword wasn't from this world. It was the very object that led to his death back on Earth.
Yes, the ancient artifact he had risked everything to recover—that was the Bingluan Sword.
"How… how did this happen?"
Even with his experience, Xiao Yi was baffled. Just days before his death, he had investigated the artifact. But even with his unmatched skills as the world's top assassin, he'd found nothing—not a single clue about the sword's origin.
All he knew was that it was shrouded in mystery. No historical records. Just myths and legends. It was said to be a divine relic, fought over by countless gods and immortals in ancient times.
Back then, Xiao Yi had scoffed at those stories.
But now? Now he wasn't so sure.
"If I truly crossed into this world and was reborn… you must have played a major role." His tone was speculative, but deep down, he was certain.
Twin Martial Spirits.
And one of them—a deep purple Bingluan Sword—among the rarest, most powerful types.
Xiao Yi's previous gloom vanished like smoke. In its place, a spark of hope ignited in his chest.
"Trash, huh? We'll see who's trash now."