The mountain air was cold and still.
Only the faint sound of dripping water echoed through the cave where Jin Haru—no, Lee Han—sat in deep meditation.
The first spark of Qi still pulsed faintly inside his dantian, fragile but alive.
Each breath he took refined that spark, shaping his new path step by step.
But tonight, something felt different.
A low hum vibrated through the cave walls—soft at first, then growing louder, like an ancient voice whispering from beneath the earth.
Lee Han's eyes snapped open.
"What is this… resonance?" he muttered.
The hum responded, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. It wasn't random—it was calling him.
He stood, following the sound deeper into the cave.
The air grew heavier, the temperature colder, until he reached a dead end: a flat wall of stone covered in moss and faint carvings.
He brushed the moss aside—and froze.
There, etched into the rock, was a symbol he knew all too well.
A crest formed by intertwining swords and mist.
> "The Lee Clan… my family crest."
For a moment, his heart trembled.
This place—hidden beneath the Jin Clan's territory—had ties to his past life.
---
[System Alert]
> "Unknown formation detected. Ancient martial resonance confirmed."
"Synchronization possible. Proceed?"
Lee Han hesitated only for a moment.
"Yes. Synchronize."
The ground trembled violently.
The carvings glowed with a crimson light, Qi swirling through the chamber like a storm.
A formation circle emerged beneath his feet, and from within the rock… a sealed stone door began to crack open.
---
From the darkness beyond, a bestial growl echoed.
Two golden eyes glared back at him.
A Qi Beast, bound by the formation for centuries, awakened to defend its master's legacy.
"Guardian beast…" Lee Han whispered. "So the Lee Clan's ancestors protected this place well."
The creature lunged—its claws slicing through the air.
Lee Han rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding death. His body was weak, but his instincts as a former Heavenly Emperor guided his movements.
He snatched up a sharp stone—his only weapon—and steadied his breathing.
> "System," he hissed. "Battle support mode!"
[Battle Assist Activated]
> "Basic Combat Memory Restored."
"Technique Available: Falling Leaf Sword Form (Incomplete)."
He closed his eyes briefly, recalling the long-forgotten sword forms.
Even with no sword, his body flowed like water.
When the beast lunged again, Lee Han sidestepped and struck its neck with the sharp stone, channeling all his Qi into the motion.
The cave exploded with light.
The beast howled once—and vanished into smoke, leaving behind a faint orb of golden energy.
---
[Ding!]
> "Battle Complete."
"Absorbed: 3 Qi."
"Technique Proficiency +1."
Lee Han fell to one knee, panting.
He looked down at his trembling hands, then laughed softly.
"So… even this weak body can still fight."
He stood and approached the now-open chamber.
Inside lay an altar of black stone.
Resting atop it was a broken sword hilt, glowing faintly, and a single floating jade slip engraved with divine patterns.
As he reached for it, the sword-shaped necklace on his chest shone brightly.
The jade slip shattered into motes of light, merging into his body.
[System Integration Successful]
> "Heavenly Sword Manual Fragment detected."
"Assimilating with host's current cultivation path..."
"New Technique Created: Heavenly Soul Sword Art — Rank Unknown."
A rush of warmth filled his veins.
Sword intent—familiar yet renewed—awakened inside him, sharp enough to slice the air around him.
He clenched his fist.
"This is… Father's legacy," he whispered.
The System's voice followed, faint but clear:
> "Your past and present have begun to merge, Host."
"The path to Heaven reopens. But beware… the eyes of fate are watching."
---
Lee Han stood silently in the chamber, the glow fading around him.
He looked at the hilt in his hand—the last remnant of his clan—and a small smile formed on his lips.
"I've been given another chance. I won't waste it this time."
As he left the cave, dawn broke across the mountains.
The light touched his face gently, and for the first time since his reincarnation, hope burned brighter than regret.