Tyr

“Whoosh!”

In the mountain forest, a white-haired youth was swinging a wooden sword.

The gentle breeze blew past the stray hairs on his forehead, revealing a pair of beautiful, light purple eyes.

Sweat dripped down his cheeks, sliding along his jawline before falling onto the grass.

“Crack.”

With a crisp sound, the wooden stick in the youth's hand snapped as he swung it. The upper half spun through the air several times before landing a few meters away from him.

“Phew.”

Stopping his movements, the youth tossed the remaining half of the stick onto the ground. He found a well-ventilated spot to sit down, letting the cool breeze brush across his forehead.

Leaning back with his arms supporting him on the grass, he looked up at the azure sky. Tyr's thoughts drifted back to his past life.

In his past life, his name was Nangong Jiyu. Born into a martial arts family, he had practiced swordsmanship since childhood.

Back then, TV dramas adapted from Jin Yong's novels were highly popular, planting the seed of the martial world deep within young Nangong Jiyu's heart.

Being born into a martial arts family and practicing martial arts and swordsmanship with his grandfather since he was a child only served as nourishment, allowing that seed to grow strong and healthy.

From a young age, Nangong Jiyu aspired to become a legendary grandmaster of his generation—clad in white, wielding a sword, and roaming the martial world.

To realize his dream of the martial world, Nangong Jiyu trained diligently with his grandfather every day. No matter how tired or sore he was, he never complained.

This aspiration lasted until Nangong Jiyu watched a gunfight movie, which prompted him to ask his grandfather—who had always pushed him to train—a soul-searching question.

“Grandpa, it looks like a sword can't beat that thing.”

Seeing the doubt in his grandson's eyes, the old man's eyes flickered for a moment before he suddenly puffed out his chest and raised his head.

“Those swordsmen you see are just amateurs. Once you master sword qi, a single swing of a longsword can unleash a hundred-zhang sword qi cutting across the sky. At that point, who cares about guns or artillery? It's all nonsense.”

And so, the young Nangong Jiyu believed him. From then on, he trained even harder.

He swore to develop sword qi and become a legendary hero.

Furthermore, at an age when kids were naturally hyperactive, Nangong Jiyu was practically undefeated throughout his elementary school. No one in any elementary school in the entire county was a match for him.

Not only that, but Nangong Jiyu was also the “Guardian Sword God” of his elementary school.

Back then, there were some street punks who liked to bully elementary schoolers and steal their pocket money.

At his school, if anyone was bullied, they only had to tell Brother Yu, and he would grab his wooden sword to go fetch them some justice.

Later, as he grew older, Nangong Jiyu realized his ideas were unrealistic. Combined with the heavy academic pressure, he gradually put away his sword and focused entirely on exam papers.

Yet, his heroic spirit was never truly extinguished. After the college entrance examination, Nangong Jiyu applied for a military academy and became a proud soldier.

Relying on the martial arts he had practiced since childhood, his refusal to admit defeat, and the passion in his heart, he quickly made a name for himself in the military.

During a peacekeeping mission, Nangong Jiyu was blown away by an artillery shell while trying to save a child.

Fortunately, before losing consciousness, he saw that the child he had pushed away had successfully escaped the blast and was being protected by his comrades.

After that, Nangong Jiyu's consciousness sank into boundless darkness.

He didn't know how much time had passed before he finally regained consciousness. He found himself in a dark but incredibly warm place.

Instinctively stretching his limbs, he heard a gentle and beautiful voice speak.

“Oh my, Lanier, look! Our baby just kicked me.”

“Really? Quick, let me see.”

Immediately after, a magnetic male voice echoed.

After listening for a short while, Nangong Jiyu arrived at an unbelievable conclusion.

He had transmigrated. No, considering his current situation, it would be more accurate to say he had been reincarnated.

A few months later, he was born and saw his parents for the first time.

His father was a handsome, dashing man, and his mother was also a great beauty.

Looking at his parents' attractive features, Nangong Jiyu breathed a sigh of relief. Since both his parents were so good-looking, his own looks probably wouldn't be bad either.

After his birth, Nangong Jiyu received his name for this world: Tyr.

As he grew older, Tyr became exactly what he expected—the most beautiful child in the surrounding villages.

Tyr inherited his father's white hair, while his eyes inherited his mother's light purple color.

As for his facial features, Tyr's father had a soft, handsome face, and with his mother being a great beauty, Tyr successfully grew up to look like a “little girl.”

At the very least, when he didn't speak, it was very easy to mistake him for a girl.

Feeling the cool breeze and reminiscing about his past for a moment, Tyr sat up straight and crossed his legs.

Slowly closing his eyes, Tyr began to meditate in the way his father had taught him.

In truth, when Tyr first learned about this world, he had been excited.

Because he realized this was a world of swords and magic. Although it was somewhat different from what he had originally sought, it ultimately gave him hope of wielding a sword and roaming the world.

As Tyr cleared his mind, the sounds of insects, birds, and the wind blowing through the leaves and grass around him were gradually amplified.

Tyr's breathing became steady. With each breath he took, the magic power drifting around him began to slowly gather toward his body.

After circulating through his entire body, it gathered at his heart.

Peering inside himself, Tyr could see a circle at his heart.

This was the cultivation system of this world: the Magic Circle.

By absorbing the magic power of heaven and earth and continuously purifying it, one would eventually condense it into a circle in the heart.

The realms were divided from the First Circle to the Ninth Circle. Above the Ninth Circle, there were Demigods.

Time passed minute by minute. Once Tyr felt that the magic power inside his body had reached saturation, he stopped his meditation and slowly opened his eyes.

“It's time to go back for lunch.”

Standing up from the grass and seeing that it was getting late, Tyr turned and ran down the mountain.

“Good afternoon, Auntie Alim.”

“Good afternoon, Uncle Peter.”

“Good afternoon, Uncle Derrick.”

Returning to the village, Tyr greeted the villagers he knew along the way.

However, the villagers, who would usually respond to Tyr with great warmth, looked at him with worried expressions this time.

“What's wrong, Auntie Alim?”

Seeing Auntie Alim hesitate to speak, Tyr stopped and asked.

“Sigh,” looking at Tyr's beautiful little face, Auntie Alim sighed, “Tyr, something happened to your family. Hurry home.”

Hearing Auntie Alim's words, the smile on Tyr's face froze. He turned and ran toward his house.

“I hope their family will be safe.”

Looking at Tyr's hurried back as he ran away, Auntie Alim prayed in her heart.