The bitter taste of the medicine lingered on Kane's tongue long after Heinrich helped him drink it down. It warmed his throat, spread to his chest, and left a dull, fading ache across his body. The physicians called it a remedy, but Kane knew better. This body's sickness had nothing to do with fate or nature. It was poison. And poison demanded intent.
As the butler and servant withdrew quietly, Kane leaned back into the pillows. His mind churned with suspicion. This weakness was not born with me. Someone crippled Kane von Havel, someone who wanted the heir gone without drawing blood.
Do Gyeom's soul bristled at the thought. He had faced betrayal, assassins, and sect leaders in Murim. He understood the look of schemes hidden beneath silence. That same stench lingered here.
Yet to fight against enemies, one needed strength. This body had none.
He closed his eyes and sank inward. In Murim, when he had cultivated, the dantian in his lower abdomen had been a vast sea of qi. Even the smallest breath had filled him with strength. Here… emptiness. A dry, hollow void. He searched again, more carefully. Still nothing. No trace of qi, no hint of mana.
The realization stung. How could such a body ever be chosen heir of one of the five strongest noble houses?
But despair was foreign to Do Gyeom. He steadied his breathing. Slowly, he recalled one of his oldest techniques—the Wandering Lotus Breathing Method, a foundation art he had created in his early years. It was a method that could draw qi from even the most barren surroundings, meant for survival when wounded and alone.
He inhaled slowly, pulling in the faint essence of the air. His chest rose, his stomach tightened, his blood strained against weak veins unused to such flow. At first, there was only silence inside him. Then—faint. A spark. So weak it could hardly be felt, but real.
Kane's lips curled into a smile. So this body is not beyond saving after all.
His muscles trembled. His breath shook. Sweat ran down his temple as he guided that wisp of qi downward, forcing it into the hollow void. His body screamed, but he pressed on. For a moment, he felt the tiniest pool of energy take root. His back straightened, his shoulders lifted, and his weak body—once bound to the bed—moved upright on its own.
Lotus position.
The position he had not sat in since before death.
The sensation was faint compared to the roaring sea of qi in his past life, but it was enough to make him feel alive again.
If this world has herbs, ginseng, or treasures like Murim, I will find them. I will rebuild from nothing. This time, I will reach heights greater than before.
He pushed the thought deeper, focusing again, when a sudden click at the door jolted him. His eyes snapped open, his voice sharp. "Who?"
The door opened.
A woman in elegant silver-blue garments stepped inside, her eyes wide with worry. Lady Helena von Havel, his mother. Behind her came a tall, broad-shouldered young man whose sharp gray eyes seemed to pierce the air. Adrian von Havel, the second son.
Lady Helena froze in place. Her breath caught. For weeks her eldest son had been too weak to rise, too frail to lift even a hand. Yet now, Kane sat upright in lotus posture, eyes sharp, spine straight.
"Kane…" she whispered, her voice trembling. "My son…"
Adrian's gaze narrowed like a hawk's. Surprise flickered across his face, quickly buried beneath suspicion. He said nothing at first, but his sharp eyes did not leave Kane's body.
Lady Helena rushed forward and took his hand. Tears glistened at the corner of her eyes as she pressed her forehead to his. "Are you in pain? Tell me where it hurts. Are you dizzy? Can you breathe well?"
Kane's voice was steady, calm. "I am fine, Mother."
Adrian stepped closer, his tall frame casting a shadow. He studied Kane's body carefully. He could feel something faint in the air. A current. It resembled mana, the energy nobles of this land cultivated, but not the same. Its flow was alien, like a river cutting against the natural current. His eyes darkened.
Within moments, servants bustled in, summoned by Lady Helena. The family physician followed quickly, his bag of instruments clutched tightly. He was an old man, thin and careful, and bowed low before approaching Kane.
"Permit me, my lord," the physician murmured, placing fingers upon Kane's wrist.
Silence followed. The physician's brows furrowed, then slowly rose. His eyes widened, disbelief painted across his face.
"This… this is impossible," he whispered. "Only yesterday, Lord Kane's pulse was weak as fading embers. His breathing shallow. Yet now… strong. His circulation flows again, steadier than it has in months. Even his color…" He looked to Lady Helena, voice shaking. "My lady, he shows signs of recovery."
Lady Helena covered her mouth, tears spilling freely. "Thank the heavens… perhaps the medicine finally worked." She clutched Kane's hand tighter, her relief pouring over him like warmth.
But Adrian remained still, his eyes colder than before.
The physician reached for his instruments, ready to examine further, but Kane's voice cut across the room, firmer than it had been in months. "Enough. I wish to rest."
The physician froze, startled. "But my lord—"
"I said enough," Kane repeated. His tone brooked no argument.
The physician lowered his head and backed away quickly, bowing. Servants followed, whispering in awe at the sudden strength in his voice.
Lady Helena lingered, torn between relief and worry. She kissed Kane's forehead gently. "Rest, my son. I will return soon." Her steps were reluctant as she finally turned to leave.
Adrian, however, did not follow her immediately. He lingered by the door, his eyes locked on Kane.
For a long moment, silence stretched between the two brothers. Kane, seated in lotus posture, met his brother's cold gaze without flinching.
Adrian's lips curved into the faintest smirk, though his eyes remained hard as steel. He turned and left without a word.
The door closed. Silence returned.
Kane's body trembled. Even gathering a wisp of qi had strained him to the point of exhaustion. Sweat soaked his clothes, and his muscles ached as though he had fought a battle. Yet the faint glow of energy within him remained, proof that cultivation was possible.
He leaned back against the pillows, breathing heavily, but a smile tugged at his lips.
"They think this is luck," he whispered to himself. "Let them. Soon, they will see what true recovery looks like."
The memory of Adrian's glare lingered in his mind. His brother had noticed something. Perhaps not the truth, but enough to suspect. Kane's fingers curled weakly into fists.
So be it. In Murim, I was hunted by sects and alliances. Here, my enemies will wear noble coats and false smiles. It makes no difference. I will carve through them all the same.
His eyes closed once more, his mind sinking inward. The tiny spark of qi flickered, faint but unyielding. He guided it carefully, nursing it as though tending to a fragile flame.
He had been betrayed once before, struck by a coward's arrow from the shadows. He had died cursing his unseen killer.
But in this new world, he would not fall so easily.
This was the beginning.
And soon, this land of mana and monsters would learn the name of Do Gyeom—reborn as Kane von Havel.