Chapter 1: The Little Immortal Child of the Cultivation World

Xuantian Sect, Main Peak, Eastern Qian Pavilion.

In the elegantly understated room, the antique décor exuded a refined and subtle luxury. Pale pink gauze curtains shielded the interior from the wind, yet allowed a clear view of the world beyond.

Ji Jiuxuan was stunned by her surroundings. The bed beneath her swayed gently, not enough to be alarming, but just enough to make her feel slightly dizzy. Instinctively, she reached for the bed’s edge, only to gape in astonishment at her own pale and chubby little arm—soft, round, and unmistakably infantile.

Had she not died? Was this reincarnation, memories intact?

While Ji Jiuxuan’s thoughts spun, a pair of strikingly attractive young adults emerged from the inner chamber: the man’s features were solemn, the woman’s gaze lingered on the cradle with deep reluctance. Their robes and the swords in their hands offered her some clues.

“A-Wei, you’ve only just given birth. I can handle this mission on my own,” Ji Minghuai said, worry etched into every line of his face.

Qi Yanwei pressed her lips together, her eyes brimming with sorrow as she looked at the baby girl in the cradle. Yet she showed not a hint of hesitation, replying with quiet force, “Brother Huai, my mind is made up. Your injuries have only just healed, and you know how dangerous this assignment is. Father and Wen Ying will be here with Jiu—she’ll be safe. But you…”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Faced with his partner’s unwavering resolve, Ji Minghuai finally yielded with a sigh. “We’ll both come back safely.”

He drew her close. “We must return. Our daughter is waiting for us at home.”

Qi Yanwei nodded resolutely. “Yes, Little Jiu is waiting for us.”

Wen Ying, who had been waiting nearby, stepped forward and bowed deeply. “Madam, Young Master, I promise I will care for Miss Jiuxuan.”

Lying in the cradle, Ji Jiuxuan was swept up by the heavy atmosphere. She felt a dull ache in her heart and wondered what exactly was happening. Yet exhaustion took hold, and she fell into a deep sleep before she could make sense of it all.

She had no idea she was about to become one of the immortal world’s many “left-behind children.”

In her dreams, Ji Jiuxuan suddenly found herself plunged into darkness. All around her was endless black, but from her left palm, a tiny sword-shaped birthmark now shone with dazzling light.

“Welcome to the Great Wilderness World. The path to immortality is vast and uncertain. Please select your attribute,” a cold, mechanical female voice rang out—a tone at once clear and oddly mesmerizing.

A glowing screen appeared before her, displaying spiritual roots from which to choose.

[Chaos Five Spiritual Roots]: Slower cultivation than most, but with deep reserves of power. Progress before the Golden Core stage is slow, but after reaching Golden Core, one can dominate peers and easily defeat stronger enemies.

[Heavenly Spiritual Root]: Unparalleled aptitude, several times faster cultivation speed, and no bottlenecks before forming the Golden Core.

“Please make your selection. Once confirmed, it cannot be changed.”

Ji Jiuxuan, an avid reader of transmigration novels in her former life, took the sudden appearance of a system in stride. “System, was it you who brought me here, letting me live again?”

She remembered the terror of falling from the cliff, the pain of her body shattering on the rocks below. She had died—murdered by being pushed off a cliff, a stroke of the worst luck.

She had always had the sword-shaped birthmark in her palm—small, subtle, and oddly elegant, never detracting from her looks. Now, glowing as it was, it must be connected to the system.

But the system only repeated, “Please make your selection. Once confirmed, it cannot be changed.”

Realizing it was futile to ask further questions, Ji Jiuxuan resigned herself to figuring things out later. For now, she could only rely on her own wits.

Between the two options, her choice was clear: Heavenly Spiritual Root. The “slow but steady” type was always targeted; she’d always preferred going with the flow and taking the straightforward path.

“Please select your spiritual root attribute.”

The screen changed, listing [Five Elements Roots]: Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, Earth. Below were [Variant Roots]: Wind, Ice, Thunder, and others.

Without hesitation, Ji Jiuxuan chose the Fire Root. From her reading, she knew fire roots were versatile—useful for alchemy and forging weapons, a must-have for any practical cultivator. Even for outdoor barbecues, she’d never have to worry about starting a fire, and its offensive power was top-notch. It was, to her mind, the best and most enjoyable choice.

“Selection complete. Please choose an additional attribute.”

Ji Jiuxuan was momentarily stunned by the only available option on the screen.

Innate Sword Body? Was she destined to walk the path of the sword cultivator? No alternative? But then she recalled the image of sword cultivators riding swords through the clouds, ethereal and magnificent, and immediately felt at ease. With only one choice, it would be foolish to let the opportunity pass.

She pressed the option without hesitation. Darkness closed in again, and the system’s chilly voice echoed briefly, “System loading…”

When she awoke again, her surroundings had changed—still luxurious, but with a more austere edge. She looked around, but nothing seemed familiar.

Wen Ying entered to see the baby in the cradle—soft, fair, and wide-eyed with curiosity. Her heart melted instantly.

At last, Ji Jiuxuan saw someone approach. She smiled brightly, babbling in an attempt to communicate.

Perhaps it was an inherited trait from this life—her face naturally carried a smile as she spoke. Smiles always made a good first impression, and she even took the initiative to grin, making her appear all the more adorable.

Her innocent laughter spilled from her rosy lips, irresistibly infectious.

“Miss Jiuxuan is awake!” Wen Ying said, producing a bottle of high-grade spirit beast milk, warmed to just the right temperature.

Catching the scent, Ji Jiuxuan instinctively grabbed the bottle and drank eagerly, her clear eyes fixed on Wen Ying with unblinking curiosity.

Wen Ying gently stroked the baby’s soft hair, her tone full of tenderness. “Miss, we’ll be staying with the Sect Master for a while, until your parents return and we can go back to East Qian Pavilion. It’s a new environment, but there’s nothing to fear. This is your grandfather’s residence. He is the Sect Master and will protect you, as will I.”

“This mission is said to be very important, and not without danger.”

“Madam didn’t have to go, but Young Master only just recovered from his injuries. She couldn’t rest easy if she stayed behind. Besides, the power of their dual swordsmanship is formidable. With both of them together, their chances are much better.”

“Don’t worry, Miss, they will return safely. They’ve already entered that secret realm once before—they’ll be fine.”

Wen Ying’s voice was soft and melodious, and she was beautiful to boot.

As Wen Ying chattered away, Ji Jiuxuan gleaned the answers to her questions: her parents were on a crucial mission to inspect a secret realm—one they had already visited once. Her father had only just recovered, and her mother, unwilling to leave him, chose to go too, leaving their baby daughter behind.

From Wen Ying’s words, Ji Jiuxuan sensed her concern—was the mission especially dangerous?

She resigned herself to silence, realizing she truly was just a baby, unable to speak or help. She resolved to comfort Wen Ying after she finished her milk, but listening to Wen Ying’s gentle voice, Ji Jiuxuan dozed off again, still clutching the bottle.

A middle-aged man entered, his face serene and kind. There was nothing in his demeanor to betray his cultivation—no trace of spiritual energy, his sword aura wholly contained, yet his bearing inspired natural awe.

“How is Little Jiu today?”

Wen Ying immediately stood and bowed. “Sect Master, Miss Jiuxuan is well. She just woke up and played a while, but now she’s fallen asleep again.”

As she spoke, she saw the baby’s hand loosen its grip on the bottle in sleep, her small lips smacking softly, savoring the taste of high-grade spirit beast milk even in her dreams.