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.