Flames painted the sky in hues of crimson and black.
The stench of blood and burnt earth filled the air, heavy enough to suffocate the weak.
Among the corpses that littered the shattered plain, a single body twitched.
Armor cracked, ribs shattered, and blood ran like a broken river — yet his eyes fluttered open.
A storm of memories crashed into him.
Earth. Missiles. Betrayal. A beam of light descending from the heavens...
Dua Lin gasped, clutching his chest. His hands were not those of a soldier anymore — they were slender, pale, and covered in unfamiliar spiritual scars.
The battlefield around him was not modern. No steel, no guns, no tanks. Only cultivators — men and women cloaked in flowing robes, wielding blades that shone with qi and talismans that burned with ancient power.
Screams echoed.
"Withdraw! The Black Sand Sect has breached the formation!"
"Protect the Young Lord!"
He blinked, forcing the chaos into focus. He lay among the fallen of what seemed to be a small sect's army. And at that moment — the foreign memories surged.
Dua Lin, outer disciple of the Azure Sky Sect. Mortal Realm, Ninth Stage Body Refinement. Ambushed by the Black Sand Sect during escort duty...
Then silence — and death.
His predecessor had died with a sword through his heart, protecting his comrades.
And now — his soul had taken over.
"Another still breathing?" a cold voice called out.
Dua Lin's gaze snapped upward.
A cultivator stepped through the smoke, clad in black armor engraved with the mark of a sandstorm — the symbol of the Black Sand Sect. He sneered, dragging his blade along the ground, its edge humming with faint qi.
"So the Azure Sky dogs still twitch even in death."
He raised the sword.
But Dua Lin — the man who once rewired drones mid-flight, who commanded death with a trigger's pull — did not flinch.
His instincts surged.
His body moved before thought.
He rolled, snatching a broken blade from the ground. His movements were clumsy — this body was weak, slower than he was used to — yet precise enough to survive.
The sword fell, slicing air instead of flesh. Dua Lin drove his knee into the enemy's gut, feeling bones crack under the impact. His strike carried no qi — only raw, military-trained violence.
The Black Sand cultivator staggered, eyes wide with disbelief.
"What— you—!"
Before he could recover, Dua Lin's hand gripped his throat like a steel vice.
"You talk too much."
With a twist — snap.
The man fell lifelessly to the ground.
Silence hung for a moment as wind blew across the crimson plain.
Dua Lin stood, breathing heavily, his mind spinning.
This isn't Earth…
And yet… this body remembers cultivation… Qi… Meridian flow…
He sat cross-legged amid the corpses. The battle still raged in the distance, but he shut it out. For now, survival meant adaptation.
Inside his mind, two memories collided — his own, and the fragments of the Rebirth Martial Emperor.
Images flashed:
A man in golden robes, nine dragons circling him in the heavens, his eyes filled with contempt for gods themselves.
A voice echoed — ancient, cold, divine.
"Those who walk beneath heaven bow to power. Those who wield true might define the Dao."
When Dua Lin's eyes opened again, they glowed faintly gold.
"So this is… the power you left behind."
He felt a pulse in his dantian — faint, unstable, but alive. His meridians, though damaged, began to stir. The fragments of the Nine Dragons War Sovereign Technique stirred within his soul like slumbering beasts.
"Qi Condensation…" he whispered. "No — Body Refinement Ninth Stage. Pathetic."
He clenched his fist.
He had once wielded missiles capable of erasing cities. Now, even lifting a sword felt heavy.
But beneath his calm, a familiar hunger burned — the hunger for mastery.
If I once commanded weapons, now I will command the heavens themselves.
Hours passed. The battle subsided. Night fell.
Dua Lin scavenged the corpses, collecting herbs, torn scrolls, and spirit stones from fallen cultivators. He found a half-broken jade slip pulsing faintly with light.
He pressed it against his forehead — and the rune flared.
Low-grade cultivation manual: Azure Sky Breathing Art.
He almost laughed. "Inferior trash."
Still, even trash had its use. He began to circulate his qi, following the flow from his lower dantian up through the twelve meridians. His military discipline made the process efficient — precise like clockwork.
Hours later, sweat drenched his back. His breathing steadied. The first trace of true spiritual essence flickered within his core.
At dawn, when sunlight broke through the smoke-filled clouds, a soft hum filled the air.
The ground beneath him vibrated.
Roar!
A translucent dragon silhouette flickered behind him — faint, ethereal, like smoke and gold entwined.
Dua Lin opened his eyes. His qi surged.
"The first vein… awakened."
He stood slowly, gripping the broken sword. Around him, bodies and blood covered the field — but in his gaze, there was no fear, only cold resolve.
He remembered the beam of light that had taken him from Earth — the betrayal, the death.
Perhaps it was fate.
Perhaps punishment.
But whatever this world was, he would rise again.
A low rumble echoed from the distance. A column of smoke rose on the horizon — another sect's army, marching through the valley.
Dua Lin's golden eyes narrowed.
He tore a strip of cloth from a dead soldier, binding his wound. Then, with measured calm, he picked up a fallen Black Sand soldier's longsword and examined its edge.
"Weight: 4.3 kilograms. Balance off-center. Poor craftsmanship," he muttered. "But it'll do."
Even here, his analytical mind thrived.
A faint smile touched his lips as wind stirred his tattered robe.
"I may no longer have weapons of steel and flame… but in this world, I'll forge something greater."
His qi pulsed once more — like the heartbeat of a dragon stirring in its sleep.
Nine Dragons War Sovereign Technique — Stage One: Dragon Vein Awakening.
Lightning cracked in the sky.
Far away, cultivators turned their heads toward the plains, sensing a strange fluctuation of qi — ancient, domineering, and filled with the aura of an emperor.
None of them knew that a legend had just taken his first breath in their world.
As he walked away from the corpses, Dua Lin whispered to himself:
"On Earth, I was a weapon master. Here… I'll become a sovereign of war."
And in the heavens above, unseen by mortal eyes, a faint golden dragon circled once — roaring softly before vanishing into the dawn.