White Tiger Cultivator

The place where souls of the dead gather is unknown. People believe in reincarnation and hope to be reborn into a better life. Some souls, driven by deep ambitions and regrets, retain fragments of their past lives. These souls often bring great change, good or bad, directly or indirectly, like a stone skimming across a lake, each ripple influencing the next.

However, some souls linger in the Mortal Realm, choosing their own bodies. The Keepers of the Dead search for these rebellious souls, ensuring the Heavens dictate their next life as per Heaven’s Decree. One such soul, hailing from Earth, ventured into the unknown, seeking an intriguing world. Over millennia, its memories faded until only fragments remained, its original purpose long forgotten.

After countless ages, the soul found a planet similar to Earth. Earth? The name felt familiar, but the memories associated with it were lost. The spirit, now just an orange soul flame, descended to the planet, invisible to the living. It searched for days but found no suitable body. Possessing a living body would draw the wrath of the Keepers, who would annihilate its soul. It needed a body, freshly dead.

The spirit longed for a life of luxury, though it no longer remembered why. Perhaps its former self had desired such a life? It recalled vague images of an empire resembling ancient China, a world straight out of a xianxia novel. China? Xianxia? Television? So many names, but no memories to connect them. Time was running out; the soul’s memories were fading fast.

Finally, it saw a young boy in princely garb being bullied by other children. The boy, who seemed to be a prince, did not fight back. His silk clothes marked him as nobility. Ah, it was jealousy. The people of this world were just like those on Earth. The boy, unable to cry out, was mute. He leaned over a wooden bridge, reaching for something green shining in the lake below. The other children grabbed his legs and tossed him into the water. They laughed until they realized he couldn’t swim. Panic set in as the boy sank.

The spirit watched with anticipation as the boy flailed helplessly. This was its chance. The boy, maybe ten years old, with black hair and lightning-blue eyes, would soon die. The spirit’s excitement grew as the boy’s struggles ceased. But before he drowned, the boy spotted the source of the green shine—a small, golden pearl with the image of a white tiger inside. In his final moments, the boy swallowed the pearl and died.

The spirit rejoiced as the boy’s orange soul flame rose and vanished in a pillar of light, invisible to the living. Quickly, the spirit entered the boy’s body. The soul flame expanded, igniting life within the boy. His veins, arteries, bones, and organs grew tougher as the spirit took control. The boy’s eyes, now vibrant with life, opened.

But something was wrong. The spirit, now in the boy’s body, swallowed the golden pearl, and a searing pain erupted inside. Was it going to die? It had just gained a new body! Refusing to accept this fate, the spirit willed the body to endure. The boy gasped for air as he surfaced, trembling from the pearl’s foreign energy, before collapsing unconscious on the shore.

---

The spirit groaned as it began to hear voices. It was alive! Against all odds, it had succeeded. The body ached from the bruises the former host had endured. The spirit relaxed as a warm energy spread through its new body. It was a body! It couldn’t believe it. It had gained a new life. Now, it would have to play the role of an amnesiac, as it had no access to the body’s memories.

“My boy! Who did this to my boy?” a woman’s voice cried, her scream piercing the spirit’s ears.

“Please be calm, Your Highness. The second prince needs his rest,” an elderly voice replied.

“Royal Physician, will my little brother be okay?” a younger male voice asked.

“He still gets bullied, and he’s already past ten years!” a young female voice added as the spirit’s vision cleared from pitch black to hazy.

“Don’t worry about those brats who tried to kill your brother. I’ve sentenced them and their clans to death. They’ll be executed by my soldiers before the day’s end,” a mature voice declared. “No one harms my son, Lu Shu, and lives! I, Emperor Lu Yi of the Yan Dynasty, will not allow it!”

“He’s awake!” the empress cried as she saw Shu’s eyes open and look around in wonder. “Shu! Do you recognize me? Do you know what happened?”

“He’s mute, Mother,” a teenage boy reminded her.

“Where am I? Who are you? And who... am I?” the spirit asked, laughing inwardly despite knowing it was wrong. It was just so happy to have a body.

“You... you can speak! Shu can speak!” an older girl exclaimed, pointing at him.

“Mei and Xing, take your mother and leave,” the emperor ordered as he stroked his black beard in wonder. “My dear Empress Rong, please go for now and handle the nobles. I need to assess Shu.”

“I... I’ll be back, Shu,” the empress said tearfully, hugging her dazed son before leading her other children outside.

The spirit, now Lu Shu, sat up, his lightning-blue eyes darting around the red wooden room before settling on his father. He had a family now. This was good. He just hoped his life would be more fortunate than the body’s former host. Emperor Lu Yi, over six feet tall, wore a golden robe with a black dragon embroidered across the front and back, adorned with small lotus flowers.

“Lu Shu, do you really not remember?” his father asked.

Shu tilted his head and said, “I don’t remember much. I can only recall being pushed and drowning. I remember holding my breath and screaming, but no one could hear me. How can I speak?”

“I don’t know,” his father replied, a sad smile on his face. “It is a fortune in disguise. While you may have forgotten us, you have gained the ability to speak! Your bullies will soon be dead. I must go, but I need to know one thing: how do you have a spiritual pulse in your body?”

“Spiritual pulse? You mean spirit energy? I... I don’t know,” Shu answered, though he suspected it was related to the pearl.

“So you don’t know. When a child turns ten, their body might awaken spirit energy through an external source. It’s risky, and many don’t survive. Those who do often become Mages, while those who focus on physical prowess are known as Practitioners.”

“So I’m a Practitioner now?” Shu asked.

“Yes. You are a Spirit Shaman, the lowest of four tiers. Think of each tier as a higher life form. Each tier has nine stages of cultivation. The tiers are Spirit Shaman, Spirit Knight, Spirit Master, and Spirit Sage. In our Yan Dynasty, the most powerful Practitioner is a Spirit Master of the first stage. Our empire is small and peaceful compared to the larger empires, but we are still larger than kingdoms with our seven provinces,” Emperor Yi explained. “I don’t know your cultivation stage, but this is a good thing. When you turn thirteen, I will send you away to one of the sects.”

“Why? Did I do something wrong?” Shu asked.

“No, my son. I must send you away because you are the second son. As you grow older, your presence in the palace might inspire those who dislike your brother to form a faction around you, claiming you as the rightful heir. A civil war would be inevitable if I didn’t send you away. I’m sorry, but your circumstances have improved—you would have been exiled otherwise,” the emperor sighed, sitting next to Shu. “The throne is a heavy burden that others don’t understand. They see the power but not the responsibility it entails. In the imperial library, there are books our ancestors used when they were Practitioners. Perhaps your memory will never return, but that might be a blessing. You suffered much before they tried to kill you. Whatever money or items their clans had will be given to you in a spatial ring. I must go now. I’m glad you’re alright, my son.”

Shu watched in wonder as his father left. So much for a new family. He would be on his own soon enough. A fragment of his past came to mind, and he sat cross-legged on his bed, hands on his knees. He was going to do what was called cultivation. Perhaps that was what his new father had spoken about.

As he shut his eyes, he felt the golden energy swirling inside his body. A faint, golden glow emanated from him as he continued to meditate, gathering spirit energy from his surroundings. His body grew warm, the sensation spreading from his chest to his limbs. It was an amazing feeling, and Shu was lost in it as he continued to cultivate.

Later that night, his father returned with General Meng Ce, a Practitioner and one of his army’s generals. The general was surprised to see Lu Shu meditating calmly. Rumors of the weak second prince were well known—he was described as a timid mute, too afraid to fight back. But here he was, gathering spirit energy.

“What do you think, General Meng Ce?” the emperor asked.

“Your son is indeed a Practitioner, Your Majesty. He must be given a Practitioner weapon and begin training if he is to join a sect,” the general bowed. “I can teach him what I know,

but I dare not cultivate further to become a Spirit Knight. The Heavens punish higher life forms for meddling in Mortal Realm affairs, and I like being a general. I can teach him the basics, while you provide a Practitioner weapon and a few techniques from the Imperial Vault. We have much to do. Most top sects only accept those in the middle of the third stage of cultivation. Few sects have elders who are Spirit Knights. I suggest Your Majesty research them before the three years are up.”

“Will three years be enough?” the emperor asked.

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” the general replied. “The first two stages of cultivation are the fastest, laying the foundation for his future. By the third stage, his spirit pulse should be strong enough for us to see his spirit form. It’s usually a weapon or a beast of some sort. With his background and Your Majesty’s resources, he should reach that level in time.”

“Very well. I leave my son in your hands,” the emperor said. “Tomorrow, we will do as you suggested. Choose the best Practitioner weapon and assist him as much as you can, General. This is my only way to repay my son for sending him away and denying him his birthright as a candidate for the throne.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the general bowed deeply and followed the emperor out.