Transmigrated As A Dual Cultivator

The Fall and the Awakening

The room was quiet, save for the rhythmic clicking of keys and the occasional sigh that escaped Ethan Cross's lips. A faint glow from his computer monitor cast shadows across the walls, illuminating a desk cluttered with energy drink cans, instant noodle cups, and discarded papers. The air was thick, a mix of stale caffeine and the faint scent of uneaten food, but Ethan barely noticed.

On the screen in front of him, the world of Heaven's Ascent unfolded—a sprawling cultivation RPG that had consumed years of his life. To him, it was more than a game. It was an escape, a place where he wasn't Ethan, the quiet gamer who lived alone in a dingy apartment. In the game, he was a god, manipulating characters and systems with a finesse few others could rival.

And tonight, his favorite character, Xiao Feng, stood at the climax of his story.

Xiao Feng wasn't just a character to Ethan—he was the character. A maverick in the rigid world of cultivation, Xiao Feng had clawed his way to power using techniques no one else dared touch. His skill, Soul Reclamation, was a forbidden art, one that allowed him to absorb the strength of his enemies, growing stronger with each kill.

But not everyone saw Xiao Feng's brilliance. In the game's story, his rise had made him a target. The so-called righteous sects labeled him a heretic, a demon. Ethan knew this was coming—he'd played through it before—but it didn't make watching it any easier.

On the screen, Xiao Feng stood alone, surrounded by members of the Elder Council, their faces twisted with disdain.

"Xiao Feng," one of them intoned, his voice booming. "You have defied the natural order, practiced forbidden arts, and disrupted the balance of the cultivation world. For this, you must be purged."

Ethan clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "They don't understand," he muttered to himself. "He's not evil. He's just different."

Xiao Feng's voice rang out, defiant and unyielding. "You call me a heretic because you fear what you don't understand. I am the future of cultivation, and you… you are relics of a dying age."

Ethan grinned. That's why he loved Xiao Feng. The man had guts.

But the Council wasn't interested in words. They attacked as one, their combined might filling the screen with explosions of light and shadow. Xiao Feng fought back, his movements a blur as he wielded his forbidden techniques. For a moment, it seemed like he might win.

And then the betrayal came.

One of Xiao Feng's closest allies, a man he had saved countless times, struck him from behind. The blow staggered him, and the rest of the Council seized the opportunity.

Ethan watched in horror as Xiao Feng fell, his body pierced by countless blades. Blood pooled beneath him, and the screen faded to black.

A message appeared:

"The heretic has fallen. Balance is restored."

Ethan stared at the screen, his hands trembling. "Restored? You call this restored?" His voice cracked as he slammed his fist against the desk. "He was the only good thing about this stupid game!"

Anger and grief churned in his chest. With a few furious clicks, he exited the game and uninstalled it. Years of progress erased in an instant.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Xiao Feng's death shouldn't have affected him this much. It was just a game, after all.

But it wasn't just a game to Ethan. It was the only place where he felt in control.

The shrill ring of his phone pulled him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen: Uncle Ben.

With a sigh, he answered. "Hey, Uncle Ben. What's up?"

The voice on the other end was hesitant. "Ethan… I need you to sit down."

"What? Why?"

"There's been an accident. Your parents and sister… They didn't make it."

The world seemed to stop. Ethan's breath caught, and his vision blurred. "What… what are you talking about?"

The weeks that followed were a blur. Ethan went through the motions—funeral arrangements, paperwork, condolences from distant relatives. But no matter how many people told him they were sorry for his loss, it didn't change the hollow ache in his chest.

He stopped gaming, stopped eating properly, stopped living.

Months passed, and the grief began to harden into something darker. When Ethan discovered the truth—that his family hadn't died in an accident but had been murdered by his father's business partner, Victor Lang—it was as if something inside him snapped.

The first kill was messy. Ethan tracked down one of Victor's henchmen and stabbed him in an alley. He didn't feel remorse, only satisfaction. The next kill was cleaner, and the one after that even more so. By the time he reached Victor himself, Ethan was a different man entirely.

He didn't just kill Victor; he made him suffer. The memory of the man's screams brought Ethan a twisted sense of justice.

But justice came at a price. The police caught up with him, and he was arrested.

The execution room was cold, sterile. Ethan sat in the chair, his wrists and ankles bound.

The warden approached, clipboard in hand. "Any last words?"

Ethan smirked. "Yeah. I regret not killing more of them."

The warden sighed and gave the signal. The injection began, a cold rush spreading through Ethan's veins.

As the world faded to black, a single thought crossed his mind: If I could do it all again.

Awakening

When Ethan opened his eyes, he wasn't in a prison cell. He was standing in a dense forest, the air alive with the scent of pine and earth.

He looked down at his hands—hands that weren't his. They were slender, calloused, and powerful.

A voice echoed in his mind: "Welcome to the world of Heaven's Ascent."