妈的，又死回来了。

林风抹了把脸上的冰水，狠狠咳嗽了两声。刺骨的寒意让他头脑清醒了不少，但胸腔里那股子憋屈劲儿却像是烧火烧的，难受得慌。

这里是哪？

Rediscovering his memory, he was on the edge of the Kunlun Mountain range again. Back in his youth, his family had built a small cottage nearby. Now, it was gone, replaced by a desolate landscape littered with ice.

His sight returned fully now. He was half-buried in the snow, clad in tattered animal hide armor - remnants of his last desperate fight. The leather was frozen stiff and cracking, his weapon, a makeshift log knife from the cottage workshop, had rusted into oblivion and splintered when he swung it wildly in his panic.

Die, you bastards!

A surge of killing intent flooded him. If those who had wronged him were still here, in this primordial world, he wouldn't hesitate to carve their gateways out with his sword. But now? He was as weak as before, maybe even weaker.

Rebirth was one thing. This kind of casual disposal was utterly insulting.