The skies wept as thunder cracked through the heavens.
In the deepest cavern beneath the Thousand Blade Sect, where even elders rarely tread, a discarded disciple lay half-buried in a pool of blood and shame. Torn robes, a dislocated jaw, and soul scars marked the youth as a failed cultivator—one not worth naming.
But his eyes… they were not his own.
They belonged to a monster who had once ruled above all.
"I live... again."
Rui Yan, once titled the Immortal Flame Sovereign, had died surrounded by traitors, pierced through by karmic spears in the Celestial Assembly. His soul, refined for centuries to defy reincarnation, had shattered the Heavenly Mandate and returned—ripped from the clutches of the Reincarnation Net.
Now, he inhabited this frail body—"Rui Yan," a lowly outer disciple with the same name, but none of his former glory.
Fitting.
He sat up slowly, dragging breath into collapsed lungs. Every inch ached, but pain was familiar. Welcome, even. His soul flickered—damaged, but intact.
He glanced at his palm.
"Barely in the first layer of Soul Ember Realm. Trash. But... alive."
On the stone floor near him lay a shattered soul crystal and a bloodied sword—relics of a failed duel. In his borrowed memories, the boy had challenged an inner sect disciple for honor. He lost. Badly. No one cared.
A wry smile curled on Rui Yan's lips.
"Honor. Useless currency."
From within, something stirred. The Void Furnace Codex—a soul cultivation technique Rui Yan had forged in secret centuries ago—reactivated in his consciousness. Most of its advanced layers were sealed, but the first ember ignited:
🜂 [Soul Seed: Black Ember – Awakened]
➤ Consumes soul fragments to recover lost essence.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor. Two disciples approached, mocking voices sharp.
"Did that idiot finally die?"
"Even better if he did. His cave is worth a few spirit stones."
Rui Yan pressed his palm to the bloodied sword.
"Come, then."
The door creaked open.
The first disciple, a sneering youth named Bo Shan, stepped in. "Oh? Still breathing? You should've—"
Rui Yan moved.
The sword slashed once. Not clean. Not elegant. But brutal. A spray of blood painted the stone wall.
The second disciple screamed—too slow. Rui dashed forward, soul energy erupting in a black spark. His palm struck the man's chest, and with a flare of Soul Devour, the disciple's soul flickered… then shattered.
🜂 [Soul Essence absorbed: 14 units]
➤ Minor recovery initiated.
Rui Yan exhaled.
The stench of blood, the warmth of a dying soul, the trembling of a new body adapting to old instincts—it was all real.
Outside, a distant bell tolled.
Gong— Gong— Gong—
The Outer Sect Disciplinary Patrol would soon arrive. If he stayed, they'd find the bodies. Weak outer disciples didn't get away with murder.
But Rui Yan had never been weak. Not truly.
He dragged the corpses to the cave's end and burned them using a crude fire talisman. Ash and bone would sink into the ground within hours.
He glanced at the night sky.
The stars shimmered, uncaring. Above them all, the Heavenly Eye pulsed faintly—a reminder that Heaven always watched.
"Then watch me rise again, and tremble."
As Rui walked into the moonlit night, robes tattered, soul burning quietly within, a small smile crossed his face.
He had returned. Betrayed. Hated. Hunted.
But this time, he had no attachments.
Only purpose.
Break fate. Burn karma. Transcend Heaven.
And so, under the cursed stars of the Eastern Realm, Rui Yan began his second life—not as a hero, nor villain, but something far worse.
A cultivator with nothing to lose.