A Glimpse of the Past, A Path of Blood

Yan Ling's eyes snapped open, the biting cold of the stone beneath him sharpening his senses. The weight of his body felt strange, heavier, more powerful, yet utterly foreign. He clenched his fists, feeling an unfamiliar surge of Qi coursing through him—darker, more turbulent than the refined energy he had once mastered in his previous life.

"This... this isn't my body."

Memories flooded back in pieces—The Abyss of Sorrows, the betrayal, and the final moments of his first life. His hand instinctively moved to his chest, where a cold sensation pulsed steadily. It wasn't just the foreign body. The Soul Devouring Stone, the cursed artifact that had bound itself to him before his death, was still here. It pulsed with life, or rather, with death.

Rising to his feet, Yan Ling surveyed his surroundings. He stood in the middle of a dense, unfamiliar forest. The trees towered like silent sentinels, their dark leaves rustling ominously under the swirling clouds above. Everything around him seemed to throb with an aura of violence and malice, far different from the pristine energy of his previous world.

"This place... it's wilder. Darker."

Yan Ling focused inward, examining the body he now inhabited. The meridians within it were surprisingly robust, but there was damage, lingering traces of a mortal wound. Whoever this person had been, they had died violently. Yet here he stood, resurrected with a new power coursing through him—a power that demanded blood and chaos.

His lips twisted into a cold smile. "A dying body, but a second chance."

The sharp crack of twigs breaking interrupted his thoughts. He glanced toward the noise and saw shadows moving between the trees. Five men emerged, rough and unkempt, their expressions twisted with malice. Bandits. They looked him up and down, eyes gleaming with the promise of easy prey.

The leader, a hulking brute with a scar running across his face, sneered.

"Look what we've got here. A lost lamb." He chuckled, stepping closer. "Fresh meat. You must be new to these parts."

The other bandits snickered as they circled Yan Ling, weapons drawn. Yan Ling remained still, his expression cold, calculating. In his previous life, these insects wouldn't have dared approach him. But now, in this unfamiliar body, in an unknown world, they saw him as vulnerable.

The scarred leader waved his blade, grinning. "Hand over everything you've got, or I'll carve you up right here."

Yan Ling's fingers twitched, and he could feel the Soul Devouring Stone pulse, feeding off the hostility in the air. It urged him to kill, to absorb, to grow stronger. But he needed control—control over this body, control over his Qi. These bandits would serve as a useful test.

"You've made a grave mistake," Yan Ling said calmly. "Leave now, and I'll let you live."

The bandits burst into laughter. The leader shook his head. "You're either stupid or insane. But it doesn't matter, you're just another body to loot."

He raised his sword to strike, but Yan Ling moved faster. In an instant, his hand shot out, catching the man's wrist. The bandit leader gasped as Yan Ling crushed his wrist with a simple pulse of Qi, the sound of breaking bones echoing through the forest.

Before the man could scream, Yan Ling struck him in the chest with a surge of power. The bandit's eyes bulged as his life force drained away, absorbed by the Soul Devouring Stone. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, his face twisted in agony.

The other bandits froze, horror dawning in their eyes as they realized the monster they had provoked. Yan Ling stood over the corpse, his expression unreadable, the taste of raw power surging through him. The stone pulsed, satisfied.

"Run." His voice was cold, emotionless. "Unless you wish to share his fate."

The remaining bandits didn't hesitate. They bolted into the woods, their courage shattered, leaving their leader's corpse at Yan Ling's feet.

He glanced down at the dead man, then at his own hands, now crackling with dark Qi. The Soul Devouring Stone had only just begun to reveal its potential, and it had already shown him more power than he had imagined. But it was a power that required control and balance. It could consume him as easily as it consumed his enemies.

"This world is brutal," Yan Ling murmured to himself, wiping the blood from his hand. "But I will master it. Just as I mastered the last."

His eyes flickered toward the horizon, where the swirling clouds seemed to reflect the chaos building within him. This new world was dangerous, but it was also ripe with opportunity. And Yan Ling would carve his path through it, one step at a time, leaving behind a trail of blood.

With that thought, he turned and walked deeper into the forest, his path uncertain, but his resolve unshaken.

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