Everything was black.
Then… it wasn't.
A crushing pressure squeezed around him. Warmth. Muffled voices. Faint light filtering through closed eyelids.
Li Wen panicked. His last memory was clear — his cold corpse in a filthy alley, his worthless name whispered in disgust, his own funeral performed like a business meeting. His soul… ripped through time itself.
And now…
"Push! Push harder! The Young Master must survive!"
A woman screamed. Men shouted. Medical equipment beeped.
Li Wen realized, with rising horror, what was happening.
His soul… was being dragged into his own birth.
Pain. Tightness. The terrifying, instinctive fear of being forced into the world.
Then — light.
Air.
Cold.
And the loud, weak cry of a newborn.
Li Wen opened his eyes. Tiny. Helpless. But his mind?
Fully intact.
Every mistake.
Every humiliation.
Every betrayal.
His disgraceful death… all burned into his reborn soul.
The world spun above him — sterile hospital lights. His gaze flickered sideways, landing on two familiar faces.
Li Zhonghai, his father. Stoic. Cold. A titan of industry with eyes sharper than steel.
Madam Chen, his mother. Elegant. Distant. Her face strained with exhaustion, yet disgust simmered beneath her proud features.
A nurse whispered, "It's a boy. The Li Family heir."
Cheers erupted among bodyguards and doctors. The empire had its successor.
Li Wen, reborn, lay in their arms… a helpless infant wrapped in silk.
But deep within, his mind whispered:
"I've lived this before… squandered it… rotted it away…"
"Not this time."
His small, weak hands curled into trembling fists. His tiny lips quivered in a soundless vow.
The rotten heir died a joke.
The new Li Wen… would not.
Not even Death would deny him this second chance.