Henry came too as a fist descended into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Peering down venomously at him was the stereotypical "young master" looking guy with a shit-eating grin on his face. Henry coughed up blood as he tried to crawl away from his attacker. He was pretty sure his meridians were shattered.

  "Filthy cur know when to get out of the way of your betters," sneered the "young master."

  Henry's memory provided a name for this fucker “Zhen Song," an outer sect disciple and a bastard son from the Song clan. Wait a minute, Zhen Song? Henry had a mental pause; oh fuck that sounded eerily like a xianxia name. Henry didn't have much time to contemplate this fact before a swift kick sent him flying into a wall.

  "Brother Zhen, please let us be gone from here. Watching this commoner will ruin my appetite," said a porcelain skin beauty as she dusted some invisible speck of dirt from her robe.

  "You are lucky that Sister Weifong here has spoken up for you," Zhen said as he wrapped his arm around Weifong's waist.

  "If I ever see you again in the outer sect grounds without permission, I will break every bone in your body and leave you for the corpse snatchers."

  With that, the two walk off imperiously, leaving Henry a mangled, bloody mess.

  Henry didn't move; he hurt too much to voice a snippy remark. He didn't raise his head, waiting for the two to leave. The "young master" bastard must have hit the owner of this body so hard that it didn't just shatter his meridian but also exploded his heart. In this person's last breath, Henry was shoved in. Henry was thankful that he at least had the original owner's memories.

  The poor bastard's name was Deng—one word, no surname. The Dividing Heaven Sword Sect took him in as an orphan and raised him with hopes of turning him into a cultivator. Sadly, this "Deng" was judged as having no talent and relegated to being an unaffiliated disciple.

  The sect did not believe in wasting resources on disciples who could not progress.

  They were always in need of serfs, though.

  Deng swept the floors, cleaned the practice swords, and emptied the chamber pots daily. In exchange, the sect gave him a little hut on the outskirts of the grounds and three basic meals daily. Deng was happy with this because it was all he knew, at least until the day that he died.

  Henry couldn't meditate on this body's previous owner's life for much longer; he was bleeding out. He limped off in the direction of his hut. No one even batted an eye as he trudged along to his hut, trickling blood from his mouth. He was a nobody, not even truly a disciple. Dirt had more value to these cultivators than him. The body that he was in was weak, and now, with a crippled meridian could barely walk without being winded. Salvation lay in sight as he drew closer to his hut.

  Henry's hut was pathetic, all straw and dirt on the edge of a gigantic forest. The inside was not much better than the outside, either. A straw mat was on the floor, and some dirty clothes lay in the corner. Peng didn't own much; all of his worldly possessions were packed into a little sack next to his mat. It was to Henry's surprise that he saw a little lacquered black box lying neatly on the floor.

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  Henry did not remember much about his past life. He knew that he was poor and had made some bad decisions. The wrong choices seemed cloudy, like trying to remember bits and pieces of a dream. He knew he had ended his life by his own hands, but he also felt shame and a deep sadness when he thought about why he had done it. Little bits and pieces of memories came and went as he sat there with the box in his lap.

  He had a deep desire for something. He wanted to get enough of something to do something, but he wasn't sure what that was. It had been a strange drive since he opened his eyes to this new life.

  He ran his finger across the ebony box, marveling at its softness. The sleek wooden case had gold inlays of curving dragons in flight carved into its ebony wood. It wasn't a big box and felt light in Henry's hands. There was no visible lock on the box itself.

  Henry sat there as the dragons started to move faster and faster on the box. They dove and wove as they slowly merge into each other. Twenty dragons became ten, then five, before merging into one glorious golden serpent. The golden dragon spun quicker and quicker, eating its tail until it was a swirling golden hole in the box big enough for a person to reach their hand into.

  Henry knew he should be cautious. He knew that in his previous and present lives, he had been taught to beware of strange things like this. Henry was not a cautious person, and nothing had changed now.

  This was a second chance at a fulfilling life, and Henry knew that, as he was right now, that would be an impossible dream. Here was possible fortune staring right at him.

  Henry closed his eyes and jammed his whole hand into the hole.

  On the other side, he felt something solid but soft—like a book. With some effort, Henry withdrew his hand, and the hole closed shut behind him. In his hand, Henry was holding a golden tablet with blood-red letters on the cover.

  Henry examined the tablet and was shocked to discover that it was made of solid gold, and the lettering was actually rubies set into words.

  Henry could not see the actual words because there was no light in the hut. He lit the only candle he could find, and what he saw confused him even more.

  "Thundering Shenlong Heart Mantra"

  Break the Heaven

  Burn the Earth

  Henry scratched his head; this was some severe edge-lord shit. Henry knew that this was a cultivation manual. His memories cemented this fact, but why the crazy naming scheme? How could he even read this thing? It was a literal solid piece of gold.

  Henry kept reading the words repeatedly as if they would give him some deeper meaning.

  "Thundering Shenlong Heart Mantra"

  Break the Heaven

  Burn the Earth

  Maybe he needed to say it aloud for it to activate or something.

  "Thundering Shenlong Heart Mantra"

  "Break the Heaven"

  "Burn the Earth"

  Henry said with a clear loud voice, at least he wanted it to be strong but what came out was squeaky and weak. Nothing happened still. Henry was frustrated, bleeding, and in a crazy amount of pain. He was about to give up and look for something to stop the bleeding when a drop of his blood hit the tablet.

  An explosion of light cascaded from the tablet's surface, blinding Henry and causing him to drop it. Instead of falling to the earth, it rose to the middle of his little hut and spun rapidly. The light was so bright now that Henry had to shield his eyes because it physically hurt him. The tablet started to make noises; it sounded like thunder in his hovel. Henry's ears began to bleed as he fell to his knees. Suddenly, in a golden flash, the tablet stopped mid-air and shot directly at Henry's head.

  With a shower of golden sparks, Henry dies again for the second time.

  Help a Bro Out!