Li Jianan’s Cultivation as an Ordinary Man

Li Jianan lay sprawled over the cold desk, fine beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. The winding circuit diagrams and warped force-analysis problems on the physics mock exam swam before his eyes like meaningless scribbles. It wasn’t that he didn’t understand them. That familiar, nauseating dizziness had returned. Ever since he started cramming for the college entrance exams, this strange haze had clung to him, as if some part of his brain were constantly receiving interference signals it couldn’t process.

“...Relativity... the speed of light is constant...”

But this time, there were no formulas, no universe.

Instead, there were mist-shrouded immortal mountains, grand and ancient halls, intricate, arcane hand signs, and a name: Li Jianan, an inner disciple of the Tianxuan Sect, at the sixth level of Qi Refining...

“Ugh!” He groaned, clutching his head as if it were about to split open, and froze in place.

Countless images, sounds, and sensations collided and intertwined: blackboards and jade slips, school uniforms and Daoist robes, particle collisions and streaking flying swords, Einstein’s thoughtful gaze and an old man with an otherworldly air teaching the Basic Qi Refining Art...

So I didn’t transmigrate into the body of someone from ancient times. I... crossed over in my own body? He instinctively touched his school uniform. The fabric felt real. Or perhaps, when he walked down that corridor, he had triggered a “spatial fold” imperceptible to ordinary people, like passing through an invisible door from Meixi Lake High School into this place that seemed to be the Tianxuan Sect.