Chapter one: Transmigration And Shock.

The first time Li Chen opened his eyes, the world felt wrong.

Not in a dreamlike sense—though the tightness in his chest, the sharp tang of copper on his tongue, and the disoriented thrum of his heartbeat might have suggested otherwise—but in a deeper, irrevocable way. The city before him shimmered with life. Lanterns swayed though no wind stirred. Streets pulsed like veins, carrying the rhythm of countless souls. And above it all, the towering spires of the Spirit Academy scraped the sky like ancient claws.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

A week ago, he had been just another ordinary teenager—lonely, unnoticed, mortal. And yet now, as sunlight struck his hair and cast long shadows across his thin, unfamiliar arms, he had no doubt: he had transmigrated. Some cosmic joke—or punishment—had flung him into a world where survival wasn’t measured by effort or courage, but by the spirit soul you awakened.

And he hadn’t awakened one yet.

His new body was fragile, light, and narrow. He could feel his pulse in his throat, in his temples, in the tips of his fingers. That fear—the primal, bone-deep kind—wasn’t just from the body swap. It was from knowing what awaited him in three days: the Spirit Awakening Ceremony, where adolescents across the city would discover the spirit that would define their life, and their worth.

Worth.

In this world, mythical beasts and elemental spirits dominated. They were the darlings of the academies, the children of destiny. Plant spirits, rare and slow, were often pitied, yet they carried subtle powers and long lives. And then… there were the tool spirits.

Swords. Spears. Hammers. Daggers.

Whispers called them “broken paths,” relics of a bygone era. Powerful, yes—but incomplete. Dangerous. Most who awakened a tool spirit died. Those who survived were mocked, feared, or quietly discarded.

He hadn’t even awakened yet, and his chest already ached.

A sudden shiver ran down his spine as a faint warmth stirred in the center of his chest—a pulse that wasn’t entirely his own. A voice, mechanical yet resonant, whispered in a language he didn’t consciously know:

“Dao Spirit Sword system detected. Activation pending upon awakening. Spirit path incomplete. Survival uncertain.”

Li Chen froze. Survival uncertain? That wasn’t comforting. And yet… there was something instinctual about the system, something alive, that made him feel ready, even as his body trembled.

He took a shaky breath and rose to his feet. The streets were filling with teenagers, their postures proud, their faces set with confidence—or smugness, depending on the predicted strength of their spirits. From a distance, he could see the glow of spirits reacting to their owners, ethereal and magnificent. A phoenix soared above the plaza, its flames streaking the morning sky. A silver dragon coiled around the tallest tower. Below, human faces shone with the pride of those who believed themselves already destined for greatness.

And then there was him.

Just a boy. Weak. Unknown. Terrified.

He clenched his fists tighter. Tomorrow, they would see him awaken. And whatever the world chose to call him—trash, pitiful, or irrelevant—he had made a decision.

I will survive. No matter what.

Even if the spirit he awakened was a broken sword.

Even if everyone else said he couldn’t.

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