The first thing Lu Tianyang heard after opening his eyes was:
"Your Highness! Please stop hugging the pillar!"
He blinked.
He was, in fact, hugging a golden dragon pillar.
"This is not my apartment."
He looked down. Silk robes. Bare feet. Jade belt. Three maids trying to pry him off architecture. One of them was crying.
"Your Highness, the Emperor will arrive any moment!"
Emperor?
His brain slowly booted up.
Last memory: instant noodles, a deadline, cold fury at the AI layoffs gutting half his department, conspiracy videos at three in the morning, a sharp pain in his chest.
Then darkness.
He stared at the dragon carving beneath his fingers.
"If this is heaven, it's extremely dramatic."
The memories arrived like a thrown brick.
Prince Lu Tianyang. Third Prince. Heavenly Spiritual Root. Born under a celestial phenomenon. A child of prophecy.
Also: lazy. A man who skipped cultivation, skipped court meetings, skipped political lessons, skipped essentially everything worth attending. He had spent most of his days flirting, sleeping, or inventing creative new methods of avoiding responsibility.
Heavenly talent. Zero discipline.
The entire empire had a name for him.
The Golden Waste.
He turned slowly to the crying maid.
"Why was I hugging the pillar?"
She sniffed. "You said you wished to merge with the dragon spirit so you wouldn't have to attend the morning council."
He considered this.
"That sounds intelligent, actually."
The door slammed open.
An aura flooded the hall like a tide, pressure settling over the room with the weight of a mountain range. The maids dropped to their knees instantly. Lu Tianyang felt instinctive fear rise in his chest, followed immediately by something more familiar.
Irritation.
A tall man in imperial robes stepped inside. Eyes sharp enough to cut steel. The kind of face that had never once in its life been told no.
The Emperor.
His father.
The man looked at the pillar.
Then at his son.
Then at the pillar again.
"Are you attempting to cultivate masonry?"
The maids trembled. One made a sound like a strangled bird.
Lu Tianyang released the pillar with great dignity, dusted his sleeve, and met his father's gaze with a lazy smile.
"Father, I was testing the structural integrity of imperial property. If I am to inherit the throne, I must ensure infrastructure quality."
The hall went very still.
The Emperor's eye twitched.
"You skipped cultivation for three months."
"I was cultivating mentally."
"You missed the border strategy meeting."
"I support decentralization."
"You challenged the Grand Elder to a poetry contest and lost."
"That man rhymes sky with high. He deserved humiliation."
The Emperor studied him.
Long.
Quiet.
Something was different, and they both knew it. The usual son would have been defensive by now, or arrogant, or edging toward the door. This one stood still, eyes calm, expression unreadable in a way that was almost calculating.
The Emperor's gaze sharpened.
"Show me your cultivation."
Ah. Problem.
He closed his eyes and circulated his qi. The hall trembled faintly. Golden spiritual energy surged outward, pure and dense and unnaturally refined, filling the room with a warmth that made the candle flames lean sideways.
Even the Emperor's expression shifted, just slightly.
Such a terrifying foundation.
"So much potential," his father said at last, voice cold, "wasted."
Lu Tianyang opened one eye.
"Father, potential is like fine wine. You do not open it for random guests."
"You are comparing cultivation to alcohol."
"I am comparing wisdom to patience."
The Emperor turned to leave, pausing at the doorway without looking back.
"Tomorrow you will attend court. If you embarrass me again, I will personally send you to the border army."
The door closed.
Silence filled the hall.
The maids slowly lifted their heads. One stared at him with wide eyes and whispered, "Your Highness, you didn't stutter."
Another: "You didn't panic."
He looked at them for a moment, then turned and leaned casually against the dragon pillar once more.
"I simply decided that being useless was boring."
Inside his mind, a voice spoke. Not mechanical. Not cold. Something closer to a person who had just watched something mildly entertaining and wasn't sure whether to be impressed or concerned.
Reincarnation successful. Imperial Evolution System activated. Host mental state: chaotic but promising.
He paused.
"You sound judgmental."
"You were hugging a pillar."
"That pillar has aura."
"It has dust."
He smiled faintly at nothing in particular.
Beyond the palace window, the capital city stretched outward in every direction. Court politics. Ambitious ministers. Scheming princes. Cold beauties. Arrogant young masters who had never once considered that the Golden Waste might one day decide to actually try.
An empire that thought he was a joke.
He stretched slowly, rolled his shoulders, and looked out at all of it.
"Fine," he said quietly.
"Let's embarrass everyone properly."