Darkness.
An endless abyss stretched across eternity, devouring all traces of time and existence. Within this void, a lone consciousness stirred, ancient and boundless, carrying the weight of countless ages. A mind that once commanded the very fabric of reality itself.
"So, this is death?"
The thought drifted through the void, calm yet laced with a chilling indifference. No fear. No regret. Only the undeniable truth of what had transpired.
Shao Xian, the Sovereign of Dao, once reigned above all. He had stood at the pinnacle of existence, mastering the cosmic forces that wove reality together. His name alone had made gods kneel and demons cower. Yet in the end, he had been betrayed.
The ones he had long deemed beneath him, Ancient Deities, Celestial Emperors, and Primordial Entities, had joined forces to strike him down. They had feared what he had become, what he might yet achieve. And so, they conspired in the shadows, tearing him from the annals of history.
But even now, amidst the abyss, something shifted.
A ripple coursed through the void. A thread of familiarity. Then—light.
Pain surged through his being as his soul was forcefully pulled from nothingness, dragged toward something solid, something real. The abyss receded, replaced by the overwhelming scent of blood, damp soil, and burning flesh.
Shao Xian's eyes snapped open.
A world of agony greeted him. His chest heaved, lungs desperately clawing for air. His entire body screamed in pain, each nerve alight with suffering. Weak. Frail. Broken.
Foreign memories rushed into his mind, remnants of a life that was not his own. The name of this body's former owner surfaced—Jiang Chen, third son of a declining noble clan in the Yunxu Province. A cripple, mocked and beaten, abandoned to die in the middle of a desolate forest.
How laughable. The mighty Sovereign of Dao, reduced to such a wretched existence.
He attempted to move, only for fresh pain to erupt through his limbs. His ribs were shattered, his body bruised and battered. Death had nearly claimed him once again, and yet, he remained. A cold glint flickered in his eyes. Fate was not without irony. His enemies had feared his return, yet here he was. Not as they had expected, but here nonetheless.
The distant rustle of footsteps broke the eerie silence. His blurred vision barely registered the figures approaching, three men clad in dark robes, their faces twisted with cruel amusement.
"Still breathing, cripple?" one of them sneered, stepping forward and slamming his foot into Shao Xian's ribs.
A sharp crack echoed through the air. Pain coursed through his frail body, yet his expression remained eerily calm.
The leader of the group, a tall man with a jagged scar along his jaw, crouched down and grabbed Shao Xian by the collar, his breath reeking of cheap wine. "You really don't know when to die, do you?"
Shao Xian's fingers twitched.
Had this been his former life, a mere thought would have been enough to erase these insects from existence. But now? He had no cultivation, no power, only the remnants of his mind.
And that was enough.
"Do you think you're untouchable?" His voice, hoarse and weak, still carried an edge of unshakable authority.
The leader's grip tightened. "What did you just say?"
Shao Xian exhaled slowly, ignoring the pain clawing at his body. "You should have killed me the first time."
The scarred man scoffed. "Enough nonsense. Break his hands. Make sure he never—"
A sudden chill filled the air.
It was faint, barely perceptible, but to Shao Xian, it was unmistakable. A whisper of something long forgotten, something ancient. A remnant of Dao.
His fingers clenched. Power. It was minuscule, a mere flicker of what he once commanded, but it was there.
"Die."
A whisper, yet in that instant, the air twisted.
The scarred man's face contorted, his body convulsing violently as veins darkened beneath his skin. A silent scream tore through his throat before his body collapsed, lifeless.
The remaining two men staggered back in horror.
"D-demon!" one of them shrieked, turning to flee.
Shao Xian inhaled, feeling the fragile connection to Dao slip through his grasp, but it had been enough.
A flick of his fingers.
The fleeing man's legs snapped unnaturally, his scream cut short as his body crumpled to the ground.
The last man fell to his knees, trembling. "P-please… have mercy!"
Shao Xian slowly rose to his feet, his body screaming in protest. Yet he stood tall, exuding a presence that did not belong to a cripple.
He gazed down at the terrified man. "Mercy?"
A slow smirk curled his lips.
"That word no longer exists in my Dao."
A sickening crack echoed as the man's body collapsed.
Silence returned to the forest.
Shao Xian leaned against a nearby tree, his breaths shallow but steady. His connection to Dao had been weak, fleeting, but it had confirmed one undeniable truth. His path was still open.
The Dao had not abandoned him. It recognized him. Even in this crippled form.
His grip tightened. This body was weak, but weakness was only temporary. He would rebuild himself from nothing. He would not simply return to his former glory—he would surpass it.
His gaze lifted toward the distant horizon. Somewhere beyond those endless mountains, beyond the realms untouched by mortal hands, lay those who had once conspired against him.
Wait for me.
I am coming.