From lawyer to mage

Lin Qingyang was a lawyer. At least, he had been ten minutes ago.

He had just won a divorce case for a female client who had suffered domestic abuse, leaving her scumbag husband with nothing. Then he had cheerfully headed to the underground parking garage, planning to drive his recently purchased luxury car back to the firm, only for that scumbag husband to spring out of nowhere and stab him seven or eight times.

Being a lawyer really is a high-risk profession! Lin Qingyang had shouted inwardly in grief and indignation as he lay dying.

Now, he stood before a Bronze Ancient Mirror. The man reflected in it wore a crumpled gray robe, his long hair loose and his face covered in a beard. His complexion was ghostly pale, with dark circles beneath his eyes. At first glance, Lin Qingyang had thought the body's original owner was a vagrant.

Clearly, he had transmigrated into some oddball in another world. As he looked at the man in the mirror, a name automatically popped into his mind: Lin Qingyang! This man actually shared his full name!

He looked around in surprise. Clothes and magical implements lay heaped haphazardly everywhere, and a layer of dust covered the furniture. The room's messiness matched its original owner's appearance perfectly.

Buried in a pile of clutter on the table was a silvery-white longsword. He took it out and examined it. The scabbard was plain and elegant, with almost no decoration, only the word "Elegance" engraved on it.

He tried drawing the sword, but the instant he gripped the hilt, he suddenly felt a strange power flow from his arm into the blade. He copied the movements he had seen in television dramas and gave it a couple of swings. Then, with a crash, the wooden screen across from him split in two without him touching it.

Lin Qingyang jumped in fright, then realized he could actually strike things from a distance. This world even had a fantasy setting.

A lawyer turned mage? Heaven, you really know how to have fun.

Before Lin Qingyang could get excited, a surge of pain suddenly tore through his chest. His vision darkened, and he nearly lost his footing. What's going on? Was the original owner injured?

As he puzzled over this, a sudden burst of urgent knocking came from outside, followed by a teenage boy's voice.

"Master, something terrible has happened! The sect leader's been poisoned!"

The original owner even had disciples? The image of a delicate-featured boy of seventeen or eighteen suddenly appeared in Lin Qingyang's memory. Feng Shu, the original owner's eldest disciple.

He took a moment to recover and was just about to open the door when another voice spoke outside.

"There's no point telling him. He hasn't even left his room in years. When has he ever bothered with anything?"

At the sound of that voice, the image of a round little fatty surfaced in Lin Qingyang's mind: his younger disciple, Feng Yi.

Feng Shu's voice came again. "This time is different. The sect leader is Master's senior brother."

Feng Yi was unconcerned. "What's different? The previous sect leader was Master's own master, and he didn't even come out for the funeral."

Lin Qingyang was speechless. The original owner had taken being a shut-in a little too far.

Outside, Feng Yi continued complaining. "I thought joining the Nine Skies Sect would give me a bright future. Who knew I'd end up with a master like this? He stays cooped up all day like some sheltered young lady and never bothers with anything."

"Keep it down," Feng Shu said quietly.

"Master can't hear us anyway." Still, Feng Yi lowered his voice a little. "Senior brother, why don't we go beg Elder Mo to take us as disciples?"

"What are you talking about? You can't just change masters on a whim," Feng Shu scolded, then knocked on the door again.

"Master, Elder Jin said that if you still don't show up this time, you won't be getting your monthly stipend anymore."

The words had barely left his mouth when the door flew open with a bang. Lin Qingyang stood in the doorway, looking at his two disciples with a solemn expression.

"M-Master?" Feng Yi stammered in fright, nearly dropping the chicken drumstick in his hand.

"Where's the meeting?" Lin Qingyang asked Feng Shu.

Feng Shu took a moment to react before answering, "The elders are in Heavenly Strategy Hall. The poisoner was a demon slave. They're interrogating him right now."

Upon hearing this, Lin Qingyang dashed off like the wind, following his hazy memories toward Heavenly Strategy Hall, afraid his pay really would be gone if he arrived too late.

"Senior brother, am I seeing things? Master actually left his room?" Feng Yi said, looking stunned.

"Stop eating and hurry up! Master, wait for us!" Feng Shu grabbed Feng Yi and hurried after him.

They left the quiet, elegant little courtyard. A stone standing at its entrance was engraved with three words: Clear Wind Pavilion.

As Lin Qingyang sprinted along, he discovered that his feet seemed to ride the wind, carrying him at an absurd speed. Along the way, he took a look at his new workplace. It was much like the settings in cultivation novels, with clouds and mist winding around the mountains and an air of ancient grandeur. It looked pretty wealthy, too.

In moments, he reached a bluestone plaza. A towering bluestone sword monument stood at its center, bearing eight large characters: "Nine Skies Rise, the Heavenly Dao endures." Directly before the sword monument stood a majestic hall, with a plaque reading "Heavenly Strategy Hall."

The hall's main doors were open, and disciples crowded inside. The moment they saw Lin Qingyang walk in, everyone fell silent, then a chorus of murmurs immediately rose.

"Who's that?"

"Could that be... Elder Lin?"

"What Elder Lin? The Nine Skies Sect has an elder named Lin?"

Lin Qingyang was speechless. Just how little presence did the original owner have? Soon, he heard more disciples talking.

"I know! He's the one from Clear Wind Pavilion! The Elegant Sword Immortal, Lin Qingyang!"

Someone immediately scoffed. "The Elegant Sword Immortal? Looking like that?"

Lin Qingyang was still a disheveled mess, with his hair hanging loose and his beard unkempt. No matter how one looked at him, he really had nothing to do with elegance. Feng Shu and Feng Yi came in behind him and quietly slipped into the ranks with their heads lowered amid the murmurs.

As soon as he reached the center of the hall, a heavy stench of blood hit him.

A thin, frail boy lay sprawled in the middle of the hall, barely breathing. The marble floor beneath him was stained with patches of blood. He had clearly been subjected to severe punishment. He was probably the poisoning suspect. They beat him this badly? Surely they aren't torturing him for a confession!

Lin Qingyang stepped closer and finally made out a pair of gray-black ears amid the boy's tangled black hair. They looked like the ears of a wolf or a dog. Behind him was a furry gray tail, stained with blood and lying limply on the floor.

Lin Qingyang recalled the demon slave Feng Shu had mentioned. So this boy is a demon? He couldn't help taking another couple of looks, then noticed a black ring around the boy's neck, rather like a collar.

Lin Qingyang's face remained expressionless, but inwardly he couldn't help griping. What even is all this?!! Animal ears! A tail! A collar! This look seems a little less than legal. Is this really a respectable immortal sect? It isn't some place like the Joyous Union Sect, is it?

Still grumbling inwardly, Lin Qingyang walked past the boy and got a clear look at his face. He looked only sixteen or seventeen, still a child. Lin Qingyang's brow furrowed, and a trace of pity rose in his heart.

The boy seemed to sense something too. His gray-black wolf ears twitched, and he turned his head with some difficulty, opening his blood-blurred eyes to try to look at him. Beneath blood-soaked strands of hair, a pair of amber eyes lit up. There was no pleading in them, no fear, only a beast's savage coldness. They were not human eyes, but those of a lone wolf driven into a corner!

That gaze shook Lin Qingyang, and he found himself stopping in his tracks.