Jinhuo sat in silence for a long while after awakening, his body trembling, his mind struggling to grasp the weight of what had just happened.
The memories of his death—of Xiao tian's cold hand crushing his heart, the cracking of bone, the suffocating darkness—were still fresh, carved into his very soul. He had felt his lifeblood draining away, his consciousness slipping into the abyss. He had felt despair… and then, nothingness.
Yet here he was, alive again.
He lay in the same shabby wooden bed of his youth, the faint smell of dust and aged timber lingering in the air. The small window rattled faintly in the breeze, the thin curtains swaying as if mocking his disbelief.
He forced himself to breathe deeply, steadying the wild pounding of his heart.
Calm down. Calm down. This isn't a dream. I've… gone back.
His gaze fell to the flickering digits of the phone resting on the bedside table. The date. The time. The screen glowed dimly in the room's half-light, and the numbers stabbed at his mind like cold knives.
Everything matched perfectly with the past he had once lived.
His lips tightened into a thin, hard line.
"Regression…" he muttered under his breath. "No… not just regression. This is fate giving me another chance."
He sat upright, pressing his fingers into his temples, and closed his eyes. The flood of memory was overwhelming, like a river breaking through a dam.
If this is truly the past, then… certain things are about to happen.
His jaw clenched.
"In two… maybe three days, the first sign will appear."
A ruin.
A ruin buried deep within the frozen lands of the southern hemisphere of Earth—silent, ancient, hidden beneath layers of eternal ice. That ruin was the true beginning of the end.
"One week from now, I will step into that ruin again… and a month later, I will crack it open." His voice was low, bitter. "And when I do… the world will never be the same again."
He remembered it too well—the flood of changes that followed.
The earth itself would roar in defiance. Earthquakes would shatter cities. Tsunamis would swallow coastlines whole. Volcanoes would erupt with fury, staining the heavens with ash and fire.
And when the chaos subsided… spiritual energy would return.
The thin, desolate world that mankind knew would once again be fertile with mystic qi. Animals would undergo demonization, growing massive, cunning, and monstrous. Humans would awaken long-dormant talents buried deep within their bloodlines.
Sorcerers, monks, cultivators, mages—the myths once spoken of as fairy tales would step out of fantasy and carve themselves into reality.
The new era of cultivation would begin.
But Jin Huo knew the bitter truth.
The one who triggered it all—the one who had set this grand transformation into motion—was none other than himself.
A cold, hollow laugh escaped his lips, tinged with sorrow.
"All my life… in my last life… I searched for the truth of myths. I was born different. Even before this regression, I wasn't like the others."
His gaze turned vacant, haunted by memories no one else could ever see.
He was not simply Jin Hao. He was a reincarnator.
This was not his first life. Long ago, he had died in another world—an entirely different one—and when his eyes opened, he had been reborn here, into this ordinary mortal world that knew nothing of the spiritual.
From the very beginning, he had felt it. A calling. A whisper deep in his soul that myths were not mere stories, but fragments of forgotten truths. He had spent years chasing shadows, digging into ruins, deciphering legends, while the world called him a fool.
And then, he had found it.
The essence of myths. The root of all things.
He had been the first to awaken the spiritual. The first to spark the recovery of the world's forgotten power.
Through his efforts, cultivation had once again taken root in this barren world. From a powerless mortal, he had risen step by step, clawing his way up against beasts, rivals, and fate itself. He became a cultivator. He advanced. He fought. He struggled.
From nothing, he rose all the way to Saint.
His name had once resounded across the new age of cultivation.
And yet…
His chest tightened, his fists trembling.
In the end, even as a Saint, he had been betrayed. His achievements stolen. His life crushed in the palm of Exetian Xiaotian.
Hatred burned in his eyes, suffocating and sharp.
"Xiaotian…" Jin Huo growled, his voice low, venomous. "In this life… no matter what it takes… I will carve out your heart with my own hands."
The vow was not just a promise—it was an oath etched into the marrow of his soul.
But as the flames of hatred simmered, another thought emerged, twisting his expression into something darker, more complicated.
The frozen ruin.
Fragments of memory surfaced—moments he could never forget.
---
Flashback :
11 years from now in western continent, golden dragon temple
Within the deepest chamber of that ruin, after Jin Hao had cracked open the final seal ,Xiaotian had laughed—arrogant, triumphant.
"Do you even understand what you've unearthed, Jin Hao?" His eyes gleamed with mocking delight. "This ruin is not just some forgotten tomb. Within it lies one of the Dimension Fishing Mirrors… an artifact that once belonged to the Golden Dragon Star."
At the time of death.
Jin Hao had been shaken to his core. "The… Dimension Fishing Mirror?"
Xiaotian sneered, his voice cutting like a blade. "Yes. An ancient treasure from the age when the heavens themselves were split across nine dimensions. With it, one can peer across layers of reality—fish through the currents of time, fate, and possibility. And you? You thought you were the great discoverer of myths. But all you ever were, Jin Hao… was a tool to break the seal for me."
Those words had been seared into Jin Hao's soul, a wound far deeper than any blade.
---
Now, in the dim glow of his room, Jin Hao's eyes narrowed with icy resolve.
"The Dimension Fishing Mirror… the frozen ruin… everything begins with these two."
This time, things would be different.
This time, he would not be used.
This time, he would not let Exetian Xiaotian walk away with everything.
And this time… he would not die.
---
Jin Hao leaned back into his chair. Countless holographic screens flickered to life before him, their pale glow casting long shadows across his tired face. His breathing was steady, but within his chest surged the weight of centuries—two lifetimes of scars and memories intertwined like fire and ice.
He said to himself " Xiao Tian had said at the start that the mirror was from golden dragon star but he later said it was an higher grade tresure then the golden dragon star, so did he not know the real value at the start?.... ah whatever I will get the so called 'Dimension Fishing Mirror' first then think about it " he turned his thoughts towards another important event after shaking his head.
Two or three days. That was all the time left before the world stumbled upon the frozen ruin at the southern pole. To most, it would appear as nothing more than a strange relic buried beneath eternal ice. But he knew better.
That ruin was the trigger. The catalyst of everything. The doorway that had once dragged this quiet world into chaos.
From it, spiritual energy would flood forth like a broken dam, reshaping seas, skies, and lives.
He closed his eyes.
A week from now, he would be forced to step into the ruin. A month from now, he would break its seals.
And once shattered—the world would burn.
The earth would convulse. The oceans would rage. Fire would pour from mountains long thought dead. And in that chaos, humanity would awaken—at the cost of uncountable lives.
His lips curved into a bitter smile.
"Jinhuo… it all begins with you again."
In his last life, he had thought it destiny. To awaken this world, to make it strong, to lead it into a new age. And he had succeeded. He became Saint. His name had shaken the heavens.
And then—betrayal.
This time… no.
This time would be different.
"This is my second life. My second chance. And I will not squander it."
His hand pressed against the desk. His gaze was cold, sharp, unyielding.
If the frozen ruin was the starting point, then he had to control it. If the awakening could not be stopped, then at least it could be delayed. He had seen too much death in his past life—too many innocents crushed under chaos.
This time, he would bear it.
"All of them… all of us… are of the human race," he murmured. "If someone must shoulder this burden, then let it be me."
A thousand calculations flashed through his mind. He could not reveal the truth outright. No one would believe him. But he could plant seeds. He could guide nations, leaders, and governments. He could build unity.
A united front—that was what humanity needed.
Straightening his back, he spoke with authority.
"Secretary."
A holographic projection flickered into view. "Yes, Sir Niu?"
"Book me a ticket to the Western Continent. Four days from now."
"Yes, sir. Shall I arrange private travel?"
"Standard will do. No attention."
"Understood."
The hologram dimmed, awaiting further orders.
"As for the frozen ruin," Niu jinhuo's voice turned like steel, "send word to the authorities. Tell them this: the ruin must not be touched. Seal it. Guard it. Until I arrive."
The AI hesitated. "When shall I note your arrival, sir?"
"Not soon," he said coldly. His eyes narrowed, schemes and calculations burning within them. "Tell them I will come in a few months' time. That will give me enough… to think of how to make them believe."
"Yes, sir."
Silence filled the room.
Niu jinhuo clenched his fist, the veins along his arm throbbing with restrained fury.
"This time," he whispered, his voice carrying the weight of an oath, "if the spiritual recovery can be stopped, I will stop it. If it cannot… then I will guide it. No matter the cost."
The words of his ancestors echoed faintly within his mind, a creed that had carried humanity through blood and fire:
The strong must carry the burden of all.
And right now, in this entire world—if one measured not the strength of fist but the strength of will, knowledge, and vision—then he, Niu jinhuo, was the strongest.
And so, he accepted the burden.
---