The night wrapped around the Long family villa like a velvet curtain, soft but hiding sharp edges beneath. Long Xingchen sat alone in his study, lights dimmed, blinds drawn, the quiet hum of the city outside crawling through the cracks of time. His body had returned from a shattered ancient era, but his mind still carried the echoes of the Fallen Palace and the warning carved into the last breath of a dying world.
The heavens did not collapse—
they were devoured.
And the force that erased them still existed.
He could feel it like a distant pulse behind the night sky.
His phone buzzed once.
A text from Lin Yuerou: Goodnight.
He exhaled, closing his eyes.
Goodnight.
A simple message—yet in his previous life, goodnights eventually became goodbyes.
Not this time.
He sat cross-legged on the floor. His mortal body was weak, too weak to handle the ancient energies he carried. But the Heaven-Defying Body Refining Technique pulsed at the center of his mind, a constellation of runes waiting to ignite.
He placed his palms on his knees and whispered, "Begin."
Heat surged through him. Not burning—reforging. His skin tingled as muscle fibers tightened, bones vibrated faintly like metal under a hammer, tendons strengthened like drawn steel wires. Every breath circulated the subtler energies Earth still allowed, drawing them into his flesh and blood.
The first cycle completed.
A soft crack rang out from his spine.
Power seeped through his veins, not cosmic, not spiritual—something deeper. Something ancient. Something the vanished dynasties once called "The Foundation of Heaven."
His eyes opened.
Strength.
Real, functional strength.
He stood and flexed his hand.
A small gust of wind curled around his fingers.
Not bad for the first day.
He moved to his desk and activated his laptop.
His 100 billion yuan reflected on the screen—a monstrous number spread across encrypted accounts the system had generated.
Money was the first sword of the modern world.
And he had forged a divine blade in one night.
He spent the next hour aquiring:
A private security contractor company.
Silent armored SUVs.
A private medical team.
Encrypted communication lines.
A covert cybersecurity group.
And a small investigative team specializing in corporate sabotage.
All legal, all discreet, all purchased outright.
The Qin family's surveillance operatives would find a very different Long family this time.
When the clock hit midnight, his phone vibrated again—an alert from one of the newly hired teams.
"Unknown activity detected. Black sedan approaching the villa's perimeter."
He checked the live feed.
A single figure stepped out.
Tall. Arrogant. Dressed in a branded jacket, posture dripping arrogance.
Qin Shaoyang.
His stomach recoiled on instinct.
His knuckles cracked.
His vision narrowed.
The man who had destroyed his family's livelihood.
The man whose lust had cornered Lin Yuerou into despair.
The man who had laughed above Xingchen's buried body in his first life.
He was walking toward the gate like he owned the road beneath him.
The intercom buzzed on its own—Shaoyang pressing the button.
"Come out, Long Xingchen!"
His voice oozed confidence.
"I heard you had an accident. I came to check if your head cracked open."
Xingchen stepped away from the window.
He moved calmly through the hallway, his steps steady.
Halfway, his father intercepted him, eyes stern. "Stay inside. Your mother says there are suspicious people at the gate."
Xingchen rested a hand on his father's shoulder.
"Dad… trust me."
The confidence in his voice made Long Tianhai pause.
It wasn't the confidence of a teenager.
It was something heavier.
The security camera projected Shaoyang's image onto the hallway screen. Long Tianhai's jaw tightened.
"That… boy from the capital."
"Yes. And I'll deal with him." Xingchen opened the front door and stepped out alone.
The air was cold as he crossed the driveway. Shaoyang leaned against the hood of his expensive sedan, smirking like a man who believed the world would never dare harm him.
"Well, well," he said with a mocking chuckle. "You look better than I expected. Are you sure you didn't bang your brain out of alignment?"
Xingchen walked closer until they stood a few paces apart.
Shaoyang's grin faded slightly.
Xingchen's eyes… weren't the eyes of the boy he remembered.
There was depth.
Age.
A darkness that unsettled him despite his arrogance.
Xingchen tilted his head.
"Did you come here because you were curious… or because you wanted to provoke me?"
Shaoyang clicked his tongue. "Relax. I just came to say hello. After all, our families will be 'interacting' soon." He grinned wider. "Don't worry—you'll get used to losing."
Xingchen's hand rose.
Shaoyang flinched, expecting a slap.
Instead, Xingchen patted his cheek lightly—like brushing dirt off a stone.
"You talk too much," Xingchen said softly. "In ten days, you won't dare stand this close."
Shaoyang's face twisted.
"You—"
Xingchen turned away without another word. For Shaoyang, that dismissal was worse than an insult.
"YOU THINK YOU—"
Xingchen flicked his fingers.
A gust of air struck Shaoyang's chest and slammed him back against the sedan. Not a monster's force—just enough power to show him his place.
Shaoyang's eyes widened in disbelief and fear.
Xingchen walked inside, closing the gate as if nothing happened.
Upstairs, he sat once more on his bed.
The palace's fragment pulsed again, sending a ripple through his soul.
This time, the vision was clearer.
A city of towering jade towers… millions of years before its fall.
Ancient cultivators walking with blazing star power.
A sky without cracks.
The air so rich in spiritual energy it shimmered like liquid light.
But above it all—
a ripple.
A dark horizon.
A swell of grey mist beyond the cosmos, slowly, patiently moving toward that perfect world.
The same mist he saw in the Fallen Palace.
A woman's voice whispered through the fragment:
"Remember the truth… traveler of cycles…"
His body jolted, breath escaping him.
The vision shattered.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead.
He needed more fragments.
The system chimed.
> [Cooldown remaining: 9 Days 17 Hours.]
Nine days.
Nine days until he could go back millions of years and witness the origins of destruction.
Nine days to strengthen his mortal body.
To protect his family.
To dismantle the Qin family's early schemes.
To prepare for an enemy older than the heavens.
He stood and walked to the balcony, feeling the cool night air.
"Erase the heavens…" he murmured.
His eyes sharpened.
"Then I will rebuild them."
The stars above shimmered faintly, as if acknowledging the vow of someone who had returned from the ruins of history—
and would return again.