Chapter 8: Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8: The Debt of Murders

The training grounds were empty when Jin Tian arrived.

Most disciples were preparing for the evening meal or retreating to their quarters. The sun hung low, casting long shadows across the stone courtyard. It was perfect. No witnesses. No questions.

He needed to test something.

Jin Tian drew his practice blade—a cheap iron sword with a chipped edge, standard issue for outer disciples. In his previous life, he would have laughed at anyone who called this a weapon. Now, it was all he had.

He closed his eyes and reached for the qi within him.

It was thin. Pathetic. A trickle compared to the ocean he once commanded. But it was there, and more importantly, it remembered.

*The First Form: Heaven Cleaving Strike.*

His body moved before his mind caught up. The blade arced upward, trailing a whisper of silver light. It was clumsy. Slow. A child's imitation of the technique that had once split mountains.

But it was *possible*.

Jin Tian's eyes snapped open. In his previous life, he hadn't mastered Heaven Cleaving Strike until he was a Core Formation cultivator. The technique required immense qi reserves, perfect meridians, and years of practice.

Yet here he was, a Qi Condensation outer disciple, and the form had responded to him.

*The memories,* he realized. *My body remembers what it once knew. The pathways are there, even if the power isn't.*

It was an advantage he hadn't considered. His cultivation might be reset, but his understanding remained. Techniques that should have been impossible for a disciple of his level were now within reach—if he could supply enough qi.

He spent the next hour running through forms. Not the basic ones taught to outer disciples, but the advanced techniques from his previous life. Each one was slower, weaker, barely more than a shadow of its true power.

But each one worked.

By the time the bell rang for his match, Jin Tian had confirmed something crucial: he wasn't starting from zero. He was starting from the peak, buried under years of regression. If he could dig deep enough, fast enough, he might uncover power that no one expected.

---

The inner tournament arena was packed.

Unlike the outer division matches, which drew only a handful of observers, the inner division tournament was a major event. Elders, inner disciples, and even a few sect elders from allied factions had come to watch.

Jin Tian stood at the edge of the arena, his iron sword at his side. Across from him, Liu Feng was already in position.

The inner disciple was everything Jin Tian remembered. Tall, broad-shouldered, with hair the color of dying embers. His cultivation was at the sixth level of Qi Condensation—three levels above Jin Tian. He wore the red-trimmed robes of an inner disciple, and at his waist hung a blade that shimmered with heat distortion.

A fire-aspected sword. Rare and expensive.

"Outer Disciple Jin Tian," Liu Feng said, his voice carrying across the arena. "I must admit, I was surprised when I heard my opponent. An outer disciple replacing Chen Wei? The selection committee must have seen something exceptional."

The words were polite. The tone was not.

Jin Tian didn't respond. He was too busy watching Liu Feng's stance, the way his weight shifted, the slight tension in his shoulders. These were tells he hadn't noticed in his previous life. He had been too focused on power levels and technique rankings.

Now he saw the truth.

Liu Feng was nervous.

Not afraid—the inner disciple had no reason to fear an outer disciple three levels below him. But there was a tightness in his movements, a carefully controlled energy that suggested he was holding something back.

*Interesting.*

The referee, an elder from the combat division, raised his hand. "The match will begin on my signal. No killing blows. Surrender is accepted. Do you understand?"

Both fighters nodded.

"Then..."

The hand dropped.

Liu Feng moved first.

Flames erupted from his blade as he closed the distance, leaving a trail of scorched stone behind him. The attack was direct, almost arrogant—a statement of power meant to overwhelm.

In his previous life, Jin Tian would have met it head-on. He would have matched fire with steel, strength with strength, and lost.

Now he did something different.

He stepped *inside* the arc of Liu Feng's swing.

It was a movement that defied logic. The space between them should have been filled with flame and steel, but Jin Tian slipped through it like water through cracks. His iron blade came up not to block, but to redirect.

The edge of his sword caught Liu Feng's wrist, deflecting the strike just enough that the flames passed harmlessly over Jin Tian's shoulder.

Liu Feng's eyes widened.

Jin Tian didn't give him time to recover. His blade snapped forward, not at Liu Feng's body, but at his sword hand. The flat of the blade slammed against the inner disciple's knuckles.

Liu Feng's grip loosened.

For a single heartbeat, his fire sword wobbled.

Then Jin Tian's foot connected with Liu Feng's knee, and the inner disciple stumbled backward, scrambling to regain his balance.

The crowd went silent.

"He disarmed him," someone whispered. "An outer disciple disarmed an inner disciple."

Liu Feng's face flushed red—not with embarrassment, but with something darker. His hand tightened on his sword, and the flames along its length grew hotter, brighter.

"You got lucky," he snarled.

Jin Tian said nothing. He simply raised his blade and waited.

Liu Feng attacked again.

This time, there was nothing controlled about his movements. Fire exploded from his blade in waves, turning the arena into a furnace. The stone beneath their feet cracked from the heat, and the spectators closest to the ring scrambled backward.

Jin Tian moved through it like a ghost.

He didn't block. He didn't parry. He flowed around each attack, his iron blade a constant presence at the edges of Liu Feng's awareness. Every time the inner disciple thought he had an opening, Jin Tian was already somewhere else.

And every time Jin Tian struck, it was against Liu Feng's hands, his wrists, his fingers—always targeting the grip, never the body.

After the fourth exchange, Liu Feng's sword clattered to the ground.

The inner disciple stared at his empty hand, then at Jin Tian. His expression cycled through disbelief, fury, and finally, cold recognition.

"You're not an outer disciple," he said, his voice low enough that only Jin Tian could hear. "Who are you?"

Jin Tian met his gaze. "Someone who wants answers."

"Answers to what?"

"To a murder that hasn't happened yet."

The confusion on Liu Feng's face was genuine. He didn't understand. He didn't remember.

But Jin Tian remembered. He remembered the blade through his heart, the flames that had consumed his final moments, the face of the man who had delivered the killing stroke.

And he remembered the words Liu Feng had whispered as he died.

*"Forgive me, Sword God. I have no choice."*

"What do you mean, 'no choice'?" Jin Tian asked, his voice barely audible.

Liu Feng's face went pale.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. The crowd watched, confused by the sudden stillness. The referee stepped forward, ready to intervene.

Then Liu Feng did something that made Jin Tian's blood run cold.

He smiled.

It was a broken thing, full of pain and resignation. "You know," he said. "You actually know."

"Know what?"

"Who sent me."

The referee's hand came down. "Match concluded! Winner: Outer Disciple Jin Tian!"

The crowd erupted in chaos. Outer disciples were cheering, inner disciples were muttering in disbelief, and several elders were already converging on the arena, eager to question the boy who had just humiliated a sixth-level Qi Condensation cultivator.

But Jin Tian didn't hear any of it.

He was still staring at Liu Feng, watching the inner disciple's smile fade into something else. Something desperate.

"Find me tonight," Liu Feng whispered as he turned away. "Behind the sect archives. Come alone."

Then he was gone, swallowed by the crowd, leaving Jin Tian standing in the center of the arena with a thousand questions burning in his mind.

---

The night air was cold.

Jin Tian stood in the shadow of the sect archives, his hand resting on his iron sword. The building loomed above him, ancient and silent, its walls covered in protective formations that pulsed with faint blue light.

He had come alone, as Liu Feng had asked.

He wasn't foolish enough to come unprepared.

Footsteps echoed from the darkness. Liu Feng emerged, his face tired, his fire sword conspicuously absent.

"You came," he said.

"I want answers."

"And I want forgiveness." Liu Feng stopped a few meters away, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "I don't have much time. They'll notice I'm gone soon."

"Who will?"

Liu Feng's jaw tightened. "The same people who ordered me to kill you in your past life."

Jin Tian's hand tightened on his sword. "Explain."

"I can't. Not fully. I don't even know who's really behind it." Liu Feng's voice cracked. "But three years from now, I'll receive an order. A command that I can't refuse. And I'll be sent to kill the strongest cultivator in the sect."

"The Sword God."

"Yes." Liu Feng met his eyes. "You."

Silence stretched between them.

"Why are you telling me this?" Jin Tian asked. "If you're going to be ordered to kill me, why warn me now?"

"Because I don't want to do it." Liu Feng's voice broke. "Because in your past life, I failed. I killed you, and it destroyed me. I spent the rest of my days trying to undo what I had done, but I couldn't. The cycle repeated. Over and over again."

Jin Tian's blood went cold. "What do you mean, 'over and over again'?"

Liu Feng's eyes filled with tears. "This isn't your first regression, Sword God. It's your *seventh*."

The words hit Jin Tian like a physical blow.

*Seven. Seven lives. Seven deaths.*

"And every time," Liu Feng continued, his voice barely a whisper, "you get a little further. A little stronger. But you never make it past the betrayal."

"Because you kill me."

"Because I have no choice!" Liu Feng's hands were shaking. "They have something on me. Something that controls me. I can't fight it. I've tried. In every life, I've tried."

"Then tell me who they are."

"I can't."

"Tell me!"

"I *can't*!" Liu Feng's eyes blazed with sudden fire. "If I say their name, they'll know. And then they'll accelerate the timeline. You're not ready yet. You need more time."

Jin Tian stepped forward, his blade half-drawn. "Then what good are you to me?"

Liu Feng met his gaze, and in that moment, Jin Tian saw something he hadn't expected.

Hope.

"I can give you the one thing you've never had in any of your lives," Liu Feng said. "I can show you who to trust."

He reached into his robe and pulled out a jade slip, its surface covered in ancient characters.

"This is a list," he said, holding it out. "The names of your seven disciples. The ones who will betray you."

Jin Tian's hand trembled as he took it.

"Read it," Liu Feng said. "And then burn it. Because once you know the truth, nothing will ever be the same."

Jin Tian raised the jade slip to the moonlight.

The first name made his heart stop.

Then the second.

By the time he reached the