The first thing Gu Tianyu felt was pain.
It was not the sharp bite of a blade or the fleeting sting of a wound, but a deep, suffocating ache that seemed carved into the marrow of his bones. Every breath felt like fire; every heartbeat echoed like a hammer against a cracked vessel. His chest rose and fell with effort, rainwater dripping from broken tiles above to strike his face. The world reeked of iron.
Blood.
He forced his eyes open. The courtyard around him was cold and desolate, the cracked stone floor stained crimson. His robes clung to him, soaked through in mud and gore. For a moment, he thought he was back in that filthy alley—the one where his life had ended.
The memory was too sharp to be a dream.
The pistol's cold barrel against his temple.
The sneering grin of his so-called partner.
The betrayal.
The click of the trigger.
He remembered the darkness that followed. The silence. The finality of death.
And yet, he breathed.
The body beneath him was not his own. It was thinner, frailer, trembling with weakness. And then, like a floodgate shattering, memories not his own surged into his mind. A boy's life unfolded before him in fragments—birth in glory, years in humiliation, pain without end.
The Gu Clan.
One of the Eight Ancient Families of the continent, their name echoing across kingdoms like thunder. Cultivators of unmatched might, masters of spirit beasts, alchemy, and formations. Yet within such splendor, this boy—this body—was nothing.
Gu Tianyu, third young master of the Gu Clan.
Born with crippled meridians.
Unable to draw qi, unable to cultivate, unable to step onto the path of immortality.
He had been a shame from the very beginning. Beaten by servants, mocked by cousins, ignored by elders. Even the lowest disciple of the clan looked at him with scorn. A young master in name, but in truth nothing more than a dog chained in the corner.
The merging of memories left Gu Tianyu silent for a long time. Rain tapped against his skin, washing the blood across the stones into thin rivers. His lips curled—not in despair, but in something colder.
"So, this is the life Heaven chose for me?" he whispered. His voice was hoarse, but beneath it lingered steel.
He had clawed his way through shadows in his past life, rising as a strategist and killer in a world ruled by power and greed. He had no illusions about mercy or fairness. He had lived with blood on his hands, and he had died the same way. Now, fate had thrown him into the shell of a crippled young master.
Was it mockery? Or an opportunity?
His fingers curled against the wet stones, nails digging into the cracks until they split. Weakness was not in his nature. If this world sought to call him trash, he would carve his name into it with blood until none dared speak the word again.
And as if in answer to that vow, a voice unlike any other stirred in the depths of his mind.
Cold. Mechanical. Absolute.
> [Ding. Slaughter Heaven System bound.]
The sound reverberated in his skull, sharp and undeniable. Gu Tianyu froze, then narrowed his eyes.
> [Mission: Kill your enemy.]
[Reward: Body Refinement Pill + 100 Slaughter Points.]
The corner of his lips lifted into a cold smile.
A system that thrived on killing?
He almost laughed. How many corpses had paved his road in the past life? How many men had begged at his feet, how many rivals had vanished into the night because of his blade? To him, killing was no burden. It was survival. It was truth.
"Fitting," he muttered, the word lost to the storm.
The door to the courtyard slammed open. A youth stepped inside, dressed in silken robes that had never known dirt or rain. His posture was arrogant, his eyes gleaming with disdain as they settled on Gu Tianyu.
"So the waste still breathes," the boy sneered. "Tch. Pitiful. Even heaven denies you cultivation, yet you stubbornly cling to life."
His laughter echoed harshly. "Why not kneel? Beg me properly, and perhaps I'll let you die quickly instead of suffering like the cripple you are."
The words struck the night like whips. But unlike the weak boy who had once inhabited this body, the man who now stared back was no frightened child.
Gu Tianyu pushed himself upright. His body trembled, every muscle screaming, yet his eyes were sharp—calm, deep, and merciless.
"Do you know the difference between Heaven and trash like you?" he asked softly.
The cousin blinked, thrown off by the sudden steadiness in those eyes. "What—"
Gu Tianyu's smile was thin, edged with cruelty.
"Heaven may deny me," he said. "But you? You'll be my first step."