Darkness.
For a long time, there was nothing. No sound, no light, only silence. Kael's soul floated in the endless void, burning with hatred. He had lost his body, his kingdom, his power. Betrayed by those he had trusted most. Slain by cowards who called themselves heroes.
But his curse had worked. His soul did not vanish. It refused to bow to death.
And then—he felt it. A faint pull, like invisible hands dragging him down into a small, fragile vessel.
He opened his eyes.
The first thing he saw was the cracked ceiling of a wooden hut. Dust hung in the air, and the smell of rot and dampness filled his nose. He tried to move, but pain shot through every limb. His body was thin, weaker than even a starving rat. His skin clung to his bones, and his stomach growled in hunger.
"What… is this?" Kael muttered. His voice was hoarse, soft, almost pitiful.
He pushed himself up with trembling arms. The effort alone left him dizzy. He looked down and saw his body—skinny, covered in scars, one leg twisted unnaturally. A cripple.
Rage burned in his chest. The Devil God who once split mountains now trapped in the shell of a broken human? It was an insult.
Memories not his own began to flow into his mind. He closed his eyes and let them pass.
The boy whose body he now inhabited was named Li Ren. A low disciple of the Azure Sect, one of the great sects of this land. But Li Ren was no genius, no talent. Born weak, his meridians were damaged, making cultivation nearly impossible. He could not gather much qi, nor could he fight like the other disciples.
For years, he had been the laughingstock of the sect. Beaten, mocked, and used as a servant rather than a cultivator. His parents had died when he was young, leaving him alone. With no one to protect him, he became the sect's punching bag.
The last memory was of cold fists striking his face, the laughter of his fellow disciples ringing in his ears. Beaten half to death, he had crawled back to this hut. His body gave up soon after. His soul had slipped away—just in time for Kael to take his place.
Kael clenched his fist, though it shook like a leaf.
"So, this is my rebirth."
His crimson eyes, dim in this weak flesh, glimmered faintly. "They thought they destroyed me. But I live. And I will rise again."
---
The door to the hut burst open. A group of young men entered, their robes clean and their eyes filled with scorn. Azure Sect disciples.
"Well, well, the cripple still breathes," one sneered.
"Didn't we beat him enough yesterday? Look at his face, swollen like a pig."
Another laughed, kicking over the wooden bowl on the floor. "No food for trash like you. Better if you starve to death."
Kael stared at them, silent. His body screamed in pain, but his soul burned with killing intent. These worms dared to mock him. In the past, he would have crushed them with a glance. Now, he could barely stand.
One disciple leaned closer, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back. "Hey, cripple, don't glare at us like that. You think those eyes scare anyone? You're nothing. Not a cultivator, not even a man."
The others laughed.
Kael forced himself not to move. Not yet. He needed time. If he struck now with this weak body, he would be beaten again. And he could not afford to waste this second life so soon.
Instead, he lowered his gaze. His voice came out soft, almost broken. "Leave."
The disciples blinked, surprised. Then they burst into louder laughter. "Listen to him! The cripple dares order us!"
One of them kicked him in the ribs. Pain exploded, but Kael bit down on his tongue and remained silent.
"Tch, not even fun anymore. Let's go."
They left, slamming the door behind them. Their laughter echoed down the path.
Kael sat in the silence once more, blood dripping from his lips. Slowly, he wiped it away with his trembling hand.
"Mock me while you can," he whispered. His voice was low, but filled with cold fire. "Soon, you will kneel before me and beg for mercy."
---
That night, hunger gnawed at him. The body was so weak it could barely keep him conscious. His vision blurred, and his stomach twisted in pain. In his past life, he had never known such misery. He had feasted on the flesh of kings and drunk the blood of gods. To starve like this was humiliation.
But humiliation could be fuel.
Kael closed his eyes and reached inward, searching for the remnants of his power.
There was nothing. No flames, no endless sea of dark energy. Only a faint flicker, a single spark deep within his soul. The vessel was too damaged, its meridians broken. But that spark was his.
He smiled. "A spark is enough."
He began to meditate, channeling his will. The crippled body resisted, veins burning, but he forced the spark to move. Slowly, painfully, a thread of black qi flowed through him. It was weak, thinner than a strand of hair, but it existed.
And that was enough to make Kael laugh.
"Hahaha…" The sound was hoarse, broken, yet it filled the hut with madness. "They placed me in the body of a cripple to trap me. But even in weakness, I am still Kael. And I will climb again."
The night passed.
By dawn, his body still ached, but his soul was steady. He rose to his feet, leaning on the wall for support. Every step was painful, yet his eyes glowed faintly with determination.
The Devil God had been reborn.
Not as a mighty ruler, not as a god who split the earth with his sword, but as a starving cripple mocked by ants.
And that was fine.
Because even from the lowest pit, Kael would rise higher than ever before.
He looked out the broken window at the rising sun. The disciples outside trained with shining swords, their laughter filling the air.
Kael's lips curled into a thin smile.
"Laugh while you can. For every scar you gave this body, I will return it a hundred times. For every drop of blood you spilled, I will drown you in rivers. This world thinks it has defeated me—but I am only beginning."
The sun rose higher, and with it, the first steps of Kael's new life.
The Devil God had returned.