The sky burned red.
Ash rained from a broken heaven, coating the shattered battlefield in a thick, choking haze. Mountains had crumbled. Oceans boiled dry. The stars themselves—dimmed, flickering in the void.
And amidst the ruin stood **one man**.
Mo Tianyi.
His black robes were torn to shreds, soaked in blood that wasn't all his. His once-pristine sword was cracked, dull. But his back was still straight. His eyes still clear.
He stood on a mountain of corpses—friend and foe alike.
Behind him, the last remnants of the Immortal Alliance lay silent. Not one breathing soul remained. The sky-shattering dragon was dead. The Nine Lotus Saints—all gone. The woman he once loved… cold beneath his feet.
But he still stood.
Across from him, the **Heavenborne Sovereign**—the final enemy—descended like a falling star. His presence warped the heavens, bending light and time.
"You're the last," the Sovereign said, voice echoing like thunder across eternity. "Why do you still fight?"
Mo Tianyi coughed blood. Spat it out. And smiled.
"Because I can still stand."
Then they clashed.
---
When the light faded, there was silence.
And then—
**Darkness.**
---
*Beep… beep… beep…*
The soft rhythm of a hospital monitor ticked in his ears.
He felt pain. Weakness. Breath in his chest—not spiritual essence, but real, shallow air. His limbs were light, frail, fragile.
He opened his eyes.
And saw a cracked ceiling fan, spinning lazily above a dim fluorescent light.
No war. No divine battlefield.
Just—
"Lin Mo?" a voice gasped.
He turned his head slowly. A woman sat beside him, her hands trembling, face pale with exhaustion.
She looked older than he remembered. More tired. But her eyes… her eyes were the same.
**His mother.**
Still alive.
"…Mom?"
The word came out hoarse. Shaky.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
"You scared me half to death, you stupid child!" she cried, hugging him tightly. "You fainted on the street! I thought— I thought—!"
Lin Mo didn't speak.
He couldn't.
His mind was a storm. Images of the war. Of the Sovereign. Of everything he'd lost. Everything he'd given up. Everything he thought he'd never see again.
And now he was… back?
He looked down at his body.
Thin arms. Pale hands. A cheap school ID band on his wrist:
**"Lin Mo – 12th Grade – Class 3-B"**
He wasn't dreaming.
He was **eighteen again**.
---
That night, he sat alone in the hospital room, staring out the window.
His mother had fallen asleep in the chair, exhausted.
Lin Mo didn't sleep.
He watched the city. Neon signs flickering. Cars passing. Laughter in the distance.
It all felt so fragile.
So stupid.
So alive.
> *"Why…?"*
He whispered to himself. His fingers curled into fists.
He had climbed the path to immortality with blood. He had sacrificed everything—friends, family, love, even his humanity.
And now he was here.
Back at the start.
Back in a world that **didn't even believe cultivation was real**.
But something burned in his chest.
A fire he thought had died long ago.
> "If this is fate… then I won't waste it."
He looked over at his sleeping mother.
> "I'll protect her this time. And if the heavens come again… I'll be ready."
The next morning, Lin Mo was discharged. His mother fussed over him the whole walk home.
They lived in a crumbling apartment complex at the edge of the city—rusted gates, flickering hallway lights, and neighbors that coughed through the walls.
He remembered this place.
He remembered leaving it behind.
> And never returning.
He sat in his room. The wooden floor creaked under his steps.
Then he stood still.
His brows furrowed.
There was… **a ripple** in the air. Soft. Barely there.
He knelt by the floorboards. Pressed his hand against the wood.
**Qi.**
Weak. Diluted. Like a drop of wine in a barrel of water.
But it was there.
He remembered this apartment stood over a minor spiritual vein in his first life. Not strong enough for true cultivation—but enough to start body refinement.
He smiled slightly.
> "Even here… the heavens left a crack."
Just as he was about to sit down to meditate—
**BANG!**
A heavy thud echoed from the hallway.
Then voices.
**"Where's your mother's payment, Lin Mo?"**
**"You owe three months' rent. We gave her extra time 'cause she's sick—but time's up!"**
**"If you don't pay by tonight, we throw her out."**
Lin Mo's eyes darkened.
He stood.
He opened the door.
And stepped out into the hall—face calm, but eyes glowing with something ancient, something dangerous.
> "You have five seconds to walk away," he said quietly.
> "Or I'll make you crawl."