Beneath the modest warmth of a simple wool blanket, a man stirred, shifting slightly before finally crawling out of his narrow bed. He looked to be in his late twenties, his face lined with the faint weariness of someone accustomed to hard labor. His short black hair was messy, tousled from sleep, and his dark eyes blinked groggily in the dim light of his cramped living quarters.


    The small room bore the marks of a spartan existence—bare walls, a plain wooden desk, and a rickety chair pushed into the corner. With a slight stretch to shake off the lingering heaviness of sleep, he padded barefoot to the modest wooden closet that stood against the wall. Pulling the creaky door open, he reached inside and retrieved a set of simple red robes.


    The fabric was well-worn but carefully maintained, dyed in a light crimson pattern that signified allegiance to the Ember Sword Sect. The intricate yet subtle embroidery on the cuffs and hem identified it as the attire of an outer sect member—a worker, someone who served the sect without holding a position of prestige or power. These were not the robes of an elite disciple, much less a core member, but of those who labored behind the scenes, ensuring the sect’s daily operations ran smoothly.


    He held the robes up, brushing a hand over the fabric before slipping into them with practiced ease. Despite their humble nature, he wore them with acceptance. The Ember Sword Sect was his reluctant home, even if his role within it was far from glorious, and his love for the sect quite limited. For now, he was just another cog in the grand machine.


    Kai stepped over to the cracked mirror mounted on the wall, its silver backing tarnished with age. With deliberate movements, he smoothed his black hair, taming its unruly strands into something more orderly. He straightened his crimson robes, tugging at the fabric to ensure it sat properly on his shoulders. His gaze swept over his reflection, scrutinizing every detail to make sure he looked presentable.


    The man staring back at him was plain, unremarkable. His name was Kai Tong, a member of the Ember Sword Sect’s outer ranks—the lowest rung of the sect’s vast hierarchy. He was a general worker, tasked with mundane chores and duties that kept the sect running but earned little recognition or respect.


    Everything about Kai exuded mediocrity. His cultivation level was still in the early stages of the Qi-Gathering phase, barely a few steps beyond the capabilities of a mortal. His physique, while lean and capable, was far from impressive, lacking the sharp definition of someone who had tempered their body through years of rigorous training. In a sect filled with disciples aiming to reach the heavens, Kai’s presence was little more than a flickering ember in a roaring blaze.


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    And yet, there was one strange thing about him.


    He turned away from the mirror and walked to the small window of his shack. Outside, the world stretched endlessly, a sea of green from a hilltop overlooking a forest. The sky above was a canvas of shifting colors, the morning sun painting streaks of orange and pink across the horizon.


    Kai’s eyes lingered on the scene, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He let out a quiet sigh. "Another one of those strange dreams again," he murmured.


    Since Kai was a child, he had these strange dreams, visions of a life entirely foreign to him. In these dreams, he wasn’t Kai Tong, an outer sect worker of the Ember Sword Sect. Instead, he was someone named Mike, an ordinary laborer in a world unlike anything he knew.


    The world of his dreams was fantastical in its own way, devoid of cultivators, qi, or immortals. It was a place where mortals alone had shaped their existence, crafting marvels that seemed absurd to Kai’s sensibilities. They soared through the skies in enormous metal vessels called "planes," powered not by qi but by some mysterious mortal ingenuity. They built towering structures of glass and steel, "highrises," that stretched into the heavens and sparkled like precious gems.


    Kai often found himself marveling at the absurdity of these dreams. How could mere mortals, without the power of cultivation or qi, create such things? Even the most skilled cultivators of the Ember Sword Sect would find it impossible to construct such massive metal towers from just mundane glass and steel, much less fill entire cities with them. And yet, these dreams felt so vivid, so real, that part of him couldn’t entirely dismiss them.


    Were they simply the product of an overactive imagination, a mind reaching for something beyond the confines of his modest life? Or were they remnants of another existence, memories of a past life in a distant world? Kai didn’t have the answers, and perhaps it didn’t matter. Dreams, memories, or something else entirely, they didn’t change his reality.


    Standing by the window, Kai adjusted the last fold of his robes, ensuring every seam was neat. He had learned long ago that appearances mattered in the Ember Sword Sect, even for someone of his lowly status. A worker who looked sloppy might as well be inviting scorn or a harsh reprimand from a senior.


    Satisfied that he looked presentable enough to avoid unnecessary trouble, Kai stepped out the door of his humble shack. The wooden frame creaked slightly as he opened it, revealing the crisp morning air.


    Kai took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped out, ready to face another day in the shadow of the Ember Sword Sect. Whether his dreams held some deeper meaning or were simply the idle wanderings of his mind, they could wait. For now, the demands of reality beckoned.