"Where are my sword moves?" The Foundation Establishment cultivator lifted his sword in bewilderment, the tip resting right against the transmigrator's throat. Lin Ye had just opened his eyes from a car accident, only to inherit the original body's death trap: inferior aptitude, exposing corruption, and having his body dumped at the back mountain. Fortunately, the ancient jade in his chest awakened; physical contact instantly strips away combat memory, crippling anyone he touches. When three surrounded him, he closed in on them one by one to break their formation; when fire talismans threatened his life, he exploited an opening to close in and sever the incantation; when Golden Core sword Qi blocked the path for three zhang, he forcefully charged through the sword net and grabbed a hem of a sleeve. But the more he used his trump card, the deadlier it became—other people's moves were turning into his memory, and if he kept using it, he would forget who he was.