“Master, you can go in peace!”
The instant a longsword gleaming with cold light pierced his chest, Lin Xuan’s eyes snapped open.
He gasped for breath, cold sweat soaking through the back of his clothes. The familiar office was gone. He was in a bamboo house steeped in ancient charm. Mist swirled outside the window, and several towering peaks were faintly visible in the distance.
“Did I... transmigrate?”
A flood of fragmented memories suddenly surged into his mind. Lin Xuan clutched his temples in pain. A moment later, he understood his situation: he had transmigrated to a fantasy world and become the master of Sword Pavilion Peak in the Qingyang Sect.
“Xiao Han... my personal disciple...”
Remembering the final sword thrust by that white-robed youth, a chill flashed in Lin Xuan’s eyes. The previous owner of this body had trusted his exceptionally gifted disciple too much, and was ambushed and killed while in seclusion, attempting a breakthrough.
“Ding! Disciple Training Rebate System activated!”
