Life was simple for Kian, or at least, it had been. A thirty-something-year-old man in the heart of a bustling city, he lived a quiet yet fulfilling life. A 9 to 5 job at an office, mornings filled with meditation and exercise, evenings spent chatting with friends in the neighborhood, and weekends immersed in fantasy novels, manga, games, and movies. Kian was the kind of guy everyone found easy to talk to, his communication skills practically effortless. His life wasn't extraordinary, but he was happy. And happiness, Kian believed, was the real treasure in life.
But one night, as he sat in his usual spot, a steaming cup of tea in hand, flipping through a new manga series, something shifted in his world. Not physically—at least, not yet—but deep inside. It was the kind of thing you read about in the pages of fantasy novels or saw in sci-fi movies: the ultimate concept of soul transmigration. At first, he dismissed it as another passing thought, a fleeting fantasy that had no place in his everyday life. But then... the world around him began to blur. His fingers faltered on the page, and the world darkened.
A cold shiver ran down his spine as the room seemed to collapse in on itself, the air thick with energy that he couldn't comprehend. Panic rose in his chest. He tried to scream, but no sound escaped. The darkness consumed him entirely. For a moment, there was nothing.
Then, just as quickly, everything came rushing back.
Kian blinked, trying to clear his blurry vision. He found himself lying in a modest bed, the smell of unfamiliar herbs hanging in the air. The room was small, the walls rough-hewn stone, and outside the window, the sky was a pale shade of purple, something Kian had never seen before.
He sat up, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. Where am I? The question echoed through his thoughts as he stared around. This wasn't his home, this wasn't his world.
His breathing quickened, but before panic could fully take hold, memories began flooding into his mind—memories that didn't belong to him. Strange images of a young, frail boy with dark eyes, lying in this very bed. A family that he had never met, caring for him in ways that seemed impossibly loving. Faces of older brothers and sisters, all with solemn expressions, urging him to eat, to drink, to rest. But Kian felt no connection to these faces, no bond with the people in the memories. His confusion deepened.
Is this a dream? No, this isn't a dream. He clutched his head, trying to steady the flood of memories. The pieces fell into place as the memories unraveled before him like a story—one that wasn't his own, yet it now felt as if it were.
This boy, this new person he was now inhabiting, was someone he had never known, but somehow, Kian could feel the bond, the connection between them. His name wasn't Kian anymore. It was Taryn. Taryn was weak, frail. He had never been able to run even a mile without collapsing from exhaustion. His body was sickly, his limbs thin and lacking strength. Yet, Taryn was the seventh child of a wealthy family, a family that loved him deeply despite his shortcomings. A family that had tried every possible method to cure him, but nothing had worked. Taryn's body refused to thrive.
But there was something more—a deeper revelation that sent a chill down Kian's spine. This world wasn't like the one he had come from. It was a cultivation world. Cultivation? Kian couldn't quite grasp the concept, but the memories told him everything. His family, though located in a backwater territory, had significant influence in the cultivation world beyond.
Of Taryn's six siblings, five were cultivators. Skilled and powerful. The other was a renowned scholar, someone who had devoted their life to understanding the mysteries of this world. And Taryn? He was the youngest, the weakest, the one who had no talent for cultivation, the one who had never been able to live up to his family's expectations. Yet, they had never given up on him. They loved him.
Kian—or rather, Taryn—felt a strange sense of guilt. He wasn't sure why, but the emotions he inherited with the memories overwhelmed him. The love, the concern, the constant care—it was as if Taryn's family had poured their hearts into him, despite the obstacles. It was something Kian had never experienced in his old life. A family that didn't give up.
But why had his soul transmigrated into Taryn's body? What purpose did this serve? Was this a chance for him to experience a life different from his own? To live in a world of cultivation, of magic, and power? Or was there something more at play, some hidden agenda that he couldn't yet understand?
As the memories settled, Kian—now Taryn—felt a growing curiosity, an urge to understand this new world and the life he was now a part of. He was no longer just an observer, a reader of stories. He was the protagonist of his own tale. The possibilities stretched out before him, as vast and unknown as the world he had found himself in.
With a deep breath, Taryn—or Kian—stood from the bed. His legs wobbled slightly beneath him, and he had to brace himself against the wall for support. The body was weak, but there was something stirring within him, something that whispered of potential, of growth. Something that told him this was just the beginning.
And so, with the memories of a family's love and the promise of a new life ahead, Taryn set foot into a world full of unknowns, ready to find out just what kind of person he would become.