Arin's eyes snapped open.
He inhaled sharply—cold mountain air filled his lungs, thin and unrefined, nothing like the spiritual essence he had breathed for centuries. His body felt light… weak… painfully mortal.
He pushed himself up.
The first thing he saw was a familiar valley, one he had not seen for five hundred years.
The Mistpine Village.His birthplace.The cage of his earliest life.
He touched his chest. No scars. No battle-worn skin. Just the frail, smooth body of a fifteen-year-old boy.
A sound rang through his mind.
Thump… thump…
A slow, ominous heartbeat.
His eyes widened.
The Calamity Core.
It rested in the depths of his soul—dormant, but alive. Even in this young body, drained of all cultivation, it pulsed with faint menace.
Arin's lips curved.
"So it followed me."
He clenched his hand, feeling nothing but mortal weakness. No strength, no qi, no techniques. Yet he felt no despair—only an ancient calm.
A second chance.
A chance the heavens never intended him to have.
Footsteps approached.
"Arin! What are you doing lying on the ground again?" a harsh voice snapped.
A tall, broad-shouldered youth marched toward him—Dale Mistpine, the clan's young master. Arrogant, spoiled, and destined to die miserably in Arin's first life. But for now, he was a tyrant who enjoyed tormenting the "trash of the clan."
Behind Dale followed two lackeys, smirking.
"Isn't this perfect?" one mocked. "The useless orphan is playing dead again!"
"Maybe he fell from starvation," the other said with fake pity. "After all, he barely gets any resources."
Arin studied them quietly—expression empty, eyes cold.
In his past life, Arin would've swallowed his pride, endured the humiliation, and waited for strength. Now?
Now he had already tasted centuries of power.He had killed heroes, saints, demons, emperors.He had battled heaven itself.
But he forced his killing intent down.
Too early to reveal anything.
He lowered his gaze, acting defeated.
Dale sneered. "Trash should stay on the ground. Don't get in our way during the clan trial. You'll embarrass everyone."
They shoved past him, laughing.
Arin watched their backs.
His expression didn't change, but his thoughts were sharp as blades.
"In my previous life… you bullied me until the day you died. You stole my resources, my chances, even my dignity."
He stood slowly, brushing dust off his clothes.
"This time, I won't just kill you."
He glanced toward the village.
"I will destroy everything with your name on it."
As he walked back to his hut, something inside him stirred.
The Calamity Core pulsed.
Thump.
A whisper echoed through his mind—
Feed me.Create disaster.Grow stronger.
Arin exhaled slowly.
"So even in this life, you demand calamity."
He stepped inside his tiny wooden hut. Poor, cold, empty—exactly as he remembered it.
He sat cross-legged.
He placed a hand on his chest.
"Fine. This time… I'll start early."
A small, cruel smile formed on his lips.
"If fate wants to control this world…"
A faint black-red glow flickered in his eyes.
"…then I'll burn the world first."