The morning sun had barely risen when Kael left his broken hut. His body was still weak, but he walked with steady steps. Each movement sent pain through his crippled leg, yet he refused to limp.
The Azure Sect's training grounds were already filled with disciples. Dozens of young men and women swung their swords, their robes neat, their faces proud. They noticed him the moment he arrived.
Whispers spread like fire.
"Look, the cripple crawled out of his hole."
"Why does the sect even keep him around? He's a waste of food."
"Maybe they need someone to clean the toilets."
Laughter followed, sharp and cruel.
Kael ignored them. His crimson eyes, now dimmed by this weak flesh, scanned the grounds. He felt the flow of qi in the air, the energy these children wasted on simple sword swings. They were ants, yet they dared mock him.
One disciple stepped forward, smirking. He was tall, strong, with the insignia of an inner disciple on his chest. "Li Ren, you dare show your face here after yesterday? Didn't we teach you enough?"
Kael said nothing. He only stared, his silence sharper than any insult.
The disciple's smile faded. "What's with that look? You think you're better than me?" He pushed Kael's chest. The crippled body staggered and nearly fell. The crowd roared with laughter.
Another came forward and slapped him across the face. "Don't glare, cripple. You should bow your head when real disciples speak."
The slap stung, blood filling his mouth. Kael swallowed it, forcing his body to remain still. In his heart, he marked their faces. Every one of them would die screaming in the future.
"Enough!" The tall disciple lifted his hand, gathering qi. A faint glow formed around his fist. "Let's remind this trash what happens when he pretends to be one of us."
He struck Kael in the stomach.
Pain shot through his body. His weak frame flew backward, crashing into the dirt. Dust rose around him as laughter filled the grounds.
Kael coughed, blood dripping from his lips. He lay there, staring at the sky, forcing his rage down. He could not win here. Not yet.
---
The laughter stopped when a group of elders entered the training ground. The disciples straightened their backs, bowing with respect.
The elders of the Azure Sect wore long blue robes embroidered with silver. Their hair was tied neatly, their eyes cold and sharp. These were men who commanded power, who shaped the lives of hundreds of disciples.
One of them spotted Kael lying in the dirt. His lip curled in disgust.
"Li Ren," the elder said, his voice carrying through the courtyard. "Why do you even bother showing yourself here? You bring shame to the Azure Sect."
The disciples laughed again, emboldened by the elder's words.
Another elder shook his head. "A cripple with broken meridians, unable to cultivate. You should have left long ago. The sect wastes rice feeding you."
A third spat on the ground near Kael. "If not for your dead father once serving this sect, we would have thrown you out years ago. Be grateful we let you rot here."
Kael sat up slowly, wiping the blood from his lips. He bowed his head, not out of respect but to hide the fire in his eyes.
In his heart, he carved their names deeper than stone. Elders or not, their blood would one day stain his hands.
---
"Enough time wasted," the first elder said. "Disciples, resume training. Leave this trash where he belongs."
The group scattered, returning to their swords and drills. The elders turned away, ignoring Kael as if he were dirt beneath their boots.
Kael pushed himself up, his body trembling. He tasted blood with every breath, but he stood.
He looked at the disciples swinging their swords, at the elders who ruled above them, at the sect that mocked his very existence.
In his past life, entire kingdoms had knelt before him. Gods had trembled at his wrath. And now, children and old men laughed at his weakness.
His lips curled into a thin, cold smile.
"Mock me now," he whispered to himself. "For when I rise, not even heaven will save you."
---
Later that evening, Kael returned to his hut. His body was bruised, his ribs aching from the blows. He collapsed onto the straw bed, staring at the ceiling.
The memories of Li Ren mixed with his own. The boy had once dreamed of being a hero, of proving himself to the sect. Those dreams had ended in beatings and humiliation. He had died with despair in his heart.
But Kael was not Li Ren.
He would not despair.
He would not bow.
He would take this weak vessel, this crippled shell, and turn it into a blade sharper than any weapon.
The sect thought him trash. Soon, they would realize they had raised a devil in their own walls.
Kael closed his eyes, drawing that tiny spark of qi once more. His veins burned, his meridians screamed, but he forced the energy to flow. Slowly, painfully, he gathered it into his core.
The night was long. The pain endless. But Kael welcomed it.
For pain was nothing compared to betrayal. Nothing compared to the hunger for revenge.
When the dawn came, the cripple still breathed.
And the Devil God's rebirth had truly begun.
The night was deep and silent. The Azure Sect slept under the watch of the moon, but in a forgotten corner of the sect, inside a broken hut, Kael sat cross-legged on a straw bed. His thin body trembled with exhaustion, yet his eyes burned with stubborn fire.
He had spent the entire day beaten, mocked, and spat on. Disciples had struck him, elders had insulted him, and the sect had laughed at his name. But while they rested in their pride, Kael pushed himself through pain.
Every breath was heavy. Every attempt to draw qi through his crippled meridians felt like forcing water through shattered pipes. But he refused to stop.
Because even the smallest spark was enough.