The cold wind cut across the ruined battlefield like a thousand knives. Blood soaked the earth, smoke filled the air, and the faint smell of burnt flesh made breathing painful.
Mukul Desai stood at the center of it all — once the most powerful man in the world, now nothing more than a broken shadow of his former self.
His robes were torn, his hands trembling as he held the lifeless body of his closest disciple — Mei Ling, the girl he had once saved from the streets, just like himself. Around him lay the corpses of his other disciples, ten women who had followed him through war and peace, through heaven and hell.
And beyond their bodies stood her — the woman he loved. The one who betrayed him.
"Why, Anya…" Mukul's voice cracked as his vision blurred with tears. "Why did you do this…?"
Anya's eyes were empty, her smile cruel. "Because power makes people forget their place, Mukul. You were never meant to rule this world."
Beside her stood the man Mukul once called his brother — Aaryan. His oldest friend, his most trusted ally, now the blade that struck him down.
Mukul tried to move, but his legs failed. Blood poured from a hole in his chest where Aaryan's sword had pierced through. The pain was unbearable, but not as sharp as the ache in his heart.
"You both… were my family…" Mukul whispered, coughing blood. "I trusted you…"
The sky above cracked open, and from beyond the clouds, alien warships descended. The last invasion had begun — monstrous shadows from another realm, devouring the cities, destroying everything he had built over forty years. His empire, his disciples, his people — all perished in flames.
He had built his life from nothing.
Born on the streets, orphaned, beaten, hungry — yet he rose higher than anyone could imagine. Through sheer will, intelligence, and a bit of madness, he became a billionaire, a healer, a hacker, a diviner, a cultivator powerful enough to shake nations.
He had everything.
Except family.
Except love.
And when he finally found a clue — a single old photo that told him he once had parents and seven elder sisters from the Desai family — fate decided to take everything again.
As explosions shook the ground, Mukul fell to his knees. His blood ran cold, his body weak, but his spirit burned with rage and sorrow. He looked toward the darkened sky and screamed:
"God! If you exist… just once more… give me a chance! Let me find them! My father, my mother, my sisters! I'll rebuild everything again! I'll protect my disciples! I'll kill those who betrayed me! I'll destroy every enemy who dares touch my family!"
Thunder rolled across the heavens, and a strange light enveloped him. For a moment, he thought it was another explosion — but then he heard a voice. Soft. Calm. Eternal.
"Your wish has been heard, Mukul Desai. This time… do not waste the gift."
His heart stopped.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
When Mukul opened his eyes again, the air smelled different. There was no smoke, no blood, no pain. Only the chirping of birds and the warmth of morning sunlight on his face.
He blinked. The sky was blue, peaceful — something he hadn't seen in decades. His body felt… light. His wounds were gone. He looked at his hands — small, clean, soft. Not the hands of a 40-year-old warrior, but a child's.
He ran to a nearby pond, kneeling to see his reflection.
Big brown eyes. A small round face. Short black hair. A boy — no more than ten years old.
"What… what's happening?" he whispered, touching his cheeks in disbelief.
Memories flooded his mind — street fights, the first company he built, his disciples' laughter, Anya's smile, Aaryan's betrayal, the war, the last words to God — and now this.
Rebirth.
He stared at his reflection again and laughed bitterly. "So… you really heard me."
He looked around — green fields, a dirt road, small houses in the distance. A village, quiet and calm. Something deep inside him stirred, an old memory — this was the place where he once begged for food as a child.
He clenched his tiny fists.
"This time… I won't waste it."
He sat down by the pond, closed his eyes, and focused. The knowledge from his past life — medicine, hacking, cultivation, divination — all still there, buried deep in his soul. His body was weak, but his mind was sharp as ever.
He could start again.
But first… he needed to find them.
His family.
The Desai family. The ones he never got to meet. The ones who might still be out there — somewhere.
He stood up, dusted off his clothes, and looked toward the rising sun.
"I'll find you all," he said softly. "And when I do, I'll never let anyone take you from me again."
A breeze brushed through the trees, as if the world itself was listening.
Somewhere far away, in a grand mansion in the capital, a man looked out the window, frowning.
"Strange… why do I feel like someone from our bloodline has awakened?"
The Desai family didn't know it yet — but their lost son had returned.
And this time, he was not just a boy from the streets.
He was Mukul Desai — the man who had once ruled the world, the man who died betrayed, and the man reborn to rise again.