FRAGMENTS OF THE CELESTIAL DAO

The darkness was absolute, a cold void that pressed Alex Chen everywhere. There was no sound, there was no light, just the persistent feeling of being... falling apart. The last thing I remembered was the blinding glow of the headlights, the deafening sound of metal twitching, and an excruciating pain that swallowed it completely. A car accident. What a cliché and pathetic way to end a mediocre 25-year life in an office cubicle on Earth. He floated, or perhaps only existed, in this nothingness for an immeasurable time. There was no body to feel, no mind to think clearly, only a residual consciousness adrift. Then fragments began to appear in the darkness. It wasn't his memories, but it belonged to someone else. Images, sounds, emotions - a chaotic torrent that threatened to drown out its own tenuous identity. An ornate courtyard in ancient Chinese style... A middle-aged man in silk robes and a stern, disappointed look... Two young people with expressions of contempt and arrogance... The feeling of chronic weakness, of constant pain in the meridians... Whispers of garbage, useless, disgrace of the family... The name "Gù Tianháo" echoed repeatedly, intertwined with feelings of shame, resentment and deep hopelessness. Alex fought the invasion, trying to cling to the remnants of who he was, but it was like trying to hold smoke. The foreign consciousness, weak and resigned, seemed to merge with his own, or perhaps his own was being poured into the empty mold left behind. Suddenly, a sharp, physical and real pain reached him. It was as if a thousand needles pierced every inch of his being. He gasped, but no sound came out. The darkness receded, replaced by a faint, reddish light that filtered through heavy eyelids. With a monumental effort, he opened them. The ceiling was dark wood, with beams carved with complex patterns that he did not recognize. The air smelled of sandalwood and medicinal herbs, a strangely familiar aroma. He was lying on a hard bed, covered by a quilt from his border. The room was spacious, decorated with dark wood furniture and painted canvases with mountainous landscapes and mythical creatures. It was definitely not an earthly hospital. He tried to sit down, but a wave of weakness and pain forced him to fall back on the pillows. His breathing was shallow and difficult. He looked at his own hands - pale, thin, with those thin ones that were not his own. This body was not his body. The fragmented memories began to organize, driven by the familiarity of the environment. Gù Tianháo. Third Young Master of the Gu Family of Maplewood City. Sixteen years old. Known throughout the city as a growing garbage, unable to progress beyond the most basic stage of the Kingdom of Body Refinement, a disgrace to his father, Patriarch Gù Zhànlóng, and a constant source of mockery for his talented older brothers, Gù Tianyong and Gù Tianfong. Alex... no, he was Gù Tianháo now... felt a chill run through his fragile new body. Reincarnation? Transmigration? He had read about it in fantasy novels and webnovels in his past life, but never imagined it was real. And, of course, with his mediocre fate, he had not reincarnated as an heir prince or a supreme genius, but as the useless garbage of a family in a world that, through fragmented memories, valued strength above all else. A world of cultivation. Xianxia. The realization struck him like lightning. The landscapes in the paintings, the clothes of the people in the memories, the very subtle energy he could feel in the air (or perhaps it was just the desperate hope of his new mind), all pointed to this. A world where individuals could cultivate spiritual energy, called Qi, to gain superhuman strength, longevity and incredible powers. The initial panic threatened to dominate him. He was trapped in a weak body, in a hostile family, in a dangerous world where being weak was practically a death sentence. The original Gù Tiñháo had apparently succumbed to his weakness and despair - perhaps a sudden illness, perhaps a convenient "accident," the memories were confused about the immediate cause of his death. But Alex Chen, even in his mundane life, was a survivor. Years of navigating office politics and the difficulties of modern life had made him cynical, but also adaptable and calculating. Panic gave way to a regretful freak. Dying once was enough. He wouldn't allow it to happen again, not so easily. First step: assess the situation. He was alive, which was a beginning. The garbage was in Gù Tiñháo's body. That was bad, but it also meant that expectations were low. Nobody expected anything from him. That could be an advantage, a disguise. He tried to feel the body, focusing on sensations beyond pain and weakness. Gù Tianháo's memoirs included basic notions of cultivation, the theoretical knowledge that any member of a family of cultivators would have, even a failure. The first mortal kingdom was the Body Refinement, divided into nine levels. It was about strengthening the physical body, cleaning impurities and preparing it to feel and store Qi. The original Gù Tiñháo had barely managed to reach Level 1 of Body Refinement, and even then, its base was unstable and weak. Effortably, he tried to circulate the tiny amount of Qi that memories said he should have. It was like trying to push molasses through clogged pipes. The energy was weak, dispersed, and its meridians - the channels through which Qi was to flow - seemed blocked and damaged. No wonder he was considered garbage. Growing with this body would be like trying to climb Mount Everest in slippers. But he had to try. In this world, strength was everything. Without strength, he would be trampled, discarded or killed. The Gu Family would not protect him; at best, they would tolerate him as a stain on his reputation. His brothers saw him as a worm. His father... the cold, distant look at the memories said it all. He took a deep breath, the air charged with unknown energy filling his lungs. It was real. He was here. A second chance, however distorted and dangerous it may be. Alex Chen's life was over. Gù Tiñháo's life, the garbage, was also over. Now, a new Gù Tianhá has been born from the ashes of two lives. A Gù Tiñháo with the soul of an Earthling, with knowledge of a different world and, above all, with a relentless will to survive and, perhaps, only perhaps, to thrive. He closed his eyes again, not to rest, but to start planning. He needed information. I needed to fully understand the dynamics of the Gu Family, the situation of the city, the laws of this world. I needed to find a way to fix this broken body and start cultivating for real. I needed to become strong, fast. The darkness in his mind was no longer an emptiness, but a canvas where he began to trace the first steps of his new and dangerous journey. The garbage would have to get up, or it would be swept away forever.