The heavens trembled.
Blood dyed the night sky red, and the immortal peaks of Azure Heaven Sect shook as a figure staggered across the shattered void. His black robes were torn, his chest slashed open, yet his aura still pressed down like a storm that could destroy worlds.
Chen Wu, once hailed as the Heaven-Defying Immortal Emperor, clutched his sword with trembling fingers. The blade that had once carved his legend was now cracked, its glow flickering weakly.
Before him, a crowd of familiar faces gathered—elders, disciples, and even those who once called him brother. Their gazes carried a mixture of fear, greed, and hatred.
And at their head stood Sect Master Yun Jian, robed in white, holding the golden halberd of command. His expression was calm, but his eyes glittered with cold satisfaction.
"Chen Wu," Yun Jian's voice boomed, amplified by immortal essence. "You've walked too far down the demonic path. The heavens themselves reject you. As your sect, we cannot allow you to live."
Chen Wu laughed, though blood dripped from his lips. "Demonic path?" His eyes, sharp and bloodshot, swept across the faces of those he had once trusted. "For centuries, I bled for this sect. For centuries, I killed its enemies. And now—you brand me a demon, just because you fear I've grown too strong?"
A silence fell. Some disciples flinched, unable to meet his gaze.
But Yun Jian only raised his halberd higher. "You hoarded opportunities that should belong to the chosen of destiny. You defied the will of heaven. Today, for the future of the sect, you will fall."
At his gesture, the elders moved as one. Pillars of immortal light shot into the sky, forming a formation that sealed the void itself.
Chen Wu's cracked blade hummed as he forced it upright. His body trembled, but his voice carried like thunder:
"You… all of you… dare betray me?"
He looked at the elder who had once given him guidance. At the junior sister who once followed him like a shadow. At the sworn brother who once vowed they would ascend together.
Each one turned their face away.
The heavens wept. Rain began to fall, thick and cold, carrying with it the sorrow of betrayal.
Chen Wu's laughter echoed, mad and bitter. "So this is my end? Betrayed not by my enemies, but by my sect… my family?"
The ground cracked beneath his feet as his immortal essence flared one last time, tearing through the formation and forcing the elders back. His black hair whipped wildly in the storm, his eyes burning with hatred and unwillingness.
"I am Chen Wu! The heavens themselves could not kill me—do you think you can?"
With a roar, he launched forward, his sword carving arcs of destruction. Elders screamed, formations shattered, and blood splattered across the battlefield. For a moment, it seemed as though the Immortal Emperor would cut his way free.
But destiny is cruel.
A golden spear pierced through the storm and drove straight into his heart.
Chen Wu froze. His cracked blade slipped from his fingers, clattering against the stone. He looked down in disbelief at the weapon lodged in his chest.
The spear belonged to none other than his sworn brother, Li Tian.
"…You?" Chen Wu's voice broke.
Li Tian's face was pale, but his grip on the spear was firm. His eyes shimmered with guilt, but also determination. "Forgive me, Brother Wu. The sect's survival… demands your death."
Chen Wu staggered, coughing blood. His gaze locked on Li Tian, on the betrayal that hurt more than the spear itself.
He wanted to curse. He wanted to weep. He wanted to kill them all.
Instead, he whispered, voice hoarse but filled with venom:
"Li Tian… Yun Jian… all of you… I will never forgive this. If there is a next life… I will destroy your fates, slaughter your chosen, and seize the heavens themselves!"
The storm raged. Thunder split the skies.
And as Chen Wu's body fell into the abyss, his last vision was the faces of his betrayers—smiling coldly, already turning away.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
*******
The void stretched on forever.
No light.
No sound.
Only the echo of his own final scream, torn away by the spear of his so-called "brother."
Chen Wu floated in nothingness, his soul drifting like ash in the wind.
"Am I… dead?" His voice was faint, barely a thought. Rage and despair twisted together inside him. "No… I refuse. I was the strongest. I stood above them all! I will not end like this—"
A searing pain lanced through his chest. His consciousness lurched. The void shattered like glass.
—And suddenly, he was gasping for air.
Huuh—!
Chen Wu bolted upright. The scent of damp earth filled his nose, mixed with blood and… rot? His hands trembled as he pressed them against the ground. Rough soil. Fallen leaves. His vision blurred, but he forced his eyes open.
The world around him was wrong.
He wasn't in the Celestial Sky Sect's Grand Hall, where he had fallen. He was in a forest clearing, moonlight dripping through gnarled branches, shadows stretching long and sharp.
And his body—his body was weak. Pathetically weak.
A wave of dizziness slammed into him, and he doubled over, coughing violently. Blood splattered onto the leaves, but it wasn't the pure golden blood of a peak cultivator. It was dark. Mortal. Fragile.
"No…" His voice cracked. He raised his trembling hands. They were thin. Young. The calluses he'd built over centuries of cultivation were gone.
Stumbling toward a shallow puddle nearby, he caught sight of his reflection.
The face staring back was not his.
A handsome youth, no more than seventeen or eighteen, with sharp eyes and a noble air—but twisted, arrogant, and cold. Recognition stabbed him like a blade.
"This… this face…" His breath hitched. Memories not his own crashed into his mind, flooding like a tidal wave.
—The memories of the Heavenly Jade Sect's notorious villain, Chen Wu.
He knew this name. How could he not? In his past life, this very figure had been nothing more than a stepping stone. The villainous young master who died miserably at the hands of destiny's chosen hero.
"No." Chen Wu's eyes narrowed, trembling giving way to deadly calm. "No, this isn't possible."
But the truth was undeniable.
He had been reborn.
Five hundred years in the past.
In the body of the "villain" doomed to fall.
A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "So Heaven plays its tricks. They strip me of everything, only to throw me into the skin of a loser fated for ridicule and death."
He clenched his fists, blood dripping down from his nails biting into flesh.
"Fine. If that is my fate…" His gaze hardened, sharp enough to cut steel. "Then I'll tear fate apart. This life, I will not be the prey. I will become the predator."
The night wind rustled the trees as though carrying his oath into the heavens.
Memories swirled again—images of his new identity's humiliation, his downfall, and the rise of the so-called protagonist who claimed every opportunity, every treasure, every beauty.
Chen Wu's lips curved into a smile, cold and razor-thin.
"This body may be hated. This name may be cursed. But with my knowledge, with five hundred years of foresight… I will seize every chance meant for him. I will carve my name across heaven itself."
And then—distant footsteps. Voices. Torches flickering through the trees.
A group of young disciples, sneers on their faces, laughing as they closed in.
The original Chen Wu's first humiliation was about to begin.
But this time, history would not repeat.
Not if he had anything to say about it.
*******
The forest crackled with the sound of approaching footsteps. Torchlight spilled into the clearing, casting warped shadows across the ground.
Six figures emerged from the trees—disciples in Heavenly Jade Sect robes, smug expressions plastered on their faces. At their head was a tall, broad-shouldered youth with a scar along his jaw: Zhao Feng, one of the petty lackeys who had always delighted in tormenting the "old" Chen Wu.
"Well, well, if it isn't Young Master Chen." Zhao Feng's voice dripped with mockery. He swung his torch lazily, the firelight reflecting off his crooked grin. "Look at you. Lying in the dirt like a dog. Where's that arrogant swagger now?"
The others snickered cruelly.
One spat on the ground. "Tch. The mighty Chen Wu, reduced to bleeding like a common mortal. Even your fiancée called you trash. I heard she begged the Sect Master to annul the engagement today."
Laughter rippled through the group.
The original Chen Wu would have lowered his head here. He would have cursed, screamed, then been beaten into unconsciousness, cementing his path as a pathetic stepping stone.
But this Chen Wu—this reborn soul forged from betrayal and death—lifted his head slowly.
His gaze swept over them. Calm. Cold. A predator among insects.
The laughter faltered. Something in that look sliced through their confidence.
"Zhao Feng," Chen Wu said softly. His voice carried an edge like unsheathed steel. "Do you know what happens to dogs who bark too loud?"
Zhao Feng blinked. For a moment, confusion cracked his arrogance. "What did you—?"
Chen Wu moved.
One instant he was crouched on the ground. The next, he had closed the distance, a blur of motion fueled not by strength but by ruthless precision. His fist slammed into Zhao Feng's gut with surgical force.
Crack!
Zhao Feng choked, eyes bulging, torch clattering to the dirt. The impact folded him over like a broken reed.
The disciples froze. None of them expected it.
"How… how did he move like that? He's supposed to be crippled!"
Chen Wu straightened, eyes gleaming with cold amusement. "Pathetic." He drove his knee upward, smashing into Zhao Feng's jaw. Teeth cracked. Blood sprayed. The bigger youth crashed to the ground, writhing and wheezing.
"Next," Chen Wu said, voice like ice.
The clearing went deathly quiet.
The remaining disciples exchanged nervous glances. This wasn't the Chen Wu they knew. He wasn't whining, wasn't cowering. His aura—though devoid of cultivation—was suffocating. A wolf's snarl behind a man's calm mask.
"You… don't think you can scare us!" one stammered, drawing a short blade. "We're cultivators, you're nothing but a cripple—"
He lunged.
Chen Wu sidestepped smoothly, seizing the boy's wrist. With a twist, bone snapped like dry wood. The disciple's scream tore through the night before Chen Wu smashed his elbow into the boy's temple. The body crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
The others stumbled back, fear overtaking mockery.
Chen Wu dusted his hands as though swatting away dirt. "Weak. All of you. You think cultivation makes you strong?" His lip curled. "I could kill you all with nothing but my fists."
The disciples hesitated—then bolted, dragging the unconscious one with them.
"Run, tell the others! He's gone mad!"
Their footsteps vanished into the forest, leaving Zhao Feng groaning in the dirt.
Chen Wu knelt, grabbing the youth's chin and forcing his eyes up to meet his.
"Listen well," he said, voice low and venomous. "Spread this throughout the sect. The Chen Wu you mocked, the Chen Wu you spat on, is dead." His grip tightened until Zhao Feng whimpered. "From this night onward, anyone who raises their hand against me will lose far more than teeth."
He released him with a shove. Zhao Feng collapsed, trembling, unable to meet his gaze.
Chen Wu rose, brushing leaves from his robes. The moonlight framed him like a blade cutting through the darkness.
So this was how fate intended to humiliate him—by throwing him to dogs in the dirt. But he had already bitten back.
And this was only the beginning.
He tilted his head skyward, eyes gleaming with a predator's hunger.
"Hero. Protagonist. Chosen One." The words dripped with venom. "You stole my glory once. This time, I'll steal yours. Every treasure. Every beauty. Every destiny written in your name—I will carve into mine."
The night wind whispered through the trees, carrying his oath into the heavens.
And in the shadows beyond the clearing, unseen eyes watched. A girl's soft gasp, then silence.