The world ended not with pain, but with silence.
Tao Han, Supreme Leader of the Murim Alliance, sat cross-legged atop the highest platform of the Central Plane. The wind no longer answered his call, nor did the qi of heaven and earth stir at his presence. His breathing was slow, shallow—each breath a reminder that even legends were not exempt from time.
He was old.
Wrinkles lined his face like carved scripture, and his once-black hair had turned completely white. His body, which had once stood against demonic invasions, heavenly calamities, and interplanar wars, had finally reached its limit.
The Central Plane was safe.
That was the only reason he allowed himself to close his eyes.
"I protected it well… didn't I?" Tao Han murmured, his voice barely audible.
For more than three hundred years, he had lived as a shield. He had sacrificed friendships, love, family—everything that made a man human. He never married. Never raised a child. Never once chose himself.
Others lived freely under the sky he defended.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"If I had another life…" he whispered, the last spark of consciousness fading, "I would live selfishly. Even just once."
The qi around him dispersed.
The heartbeat of the Murim Alliance stopped.
And Tao Han died—peacefully, of old age.
Darkness followed.
Then—
Warmth.
Softness.
A strange scent filled his nose—flowers? Incense? Definitely not blood or iron.
His eyes snapped open.
What greeted him was not the vast sky of the Central Plane, but an ornate ceiling carved with golden patterns. Sunlight streamed through silk curtains, illuminating a room so luxurious it felt unreal.
"…?"
Tao Han tried to move—and froze.
His body felt light. Too light.
Before he could react, voices reached his ears.
"He's awake!"
"Quick, inform the madam!"
Several figures rushed toward him. A young maid knelt beside the bed, her face filled with relief. Others—servants, judging by their clothes—stood nervously behind her.
"Young Master Daniel! Thank heavens, you've finally woken up!"
Young… master?
Tao Han slowly raised his hand. The skin was smooth. Unlined. Small.
Not the hand of a man who had lived three centuries.
His heart skipped a beat.
"…A mirror," he said.
The voice that came out was clear. Youthful. Unfamiliar.
The servants exchanged glances but quickly complied. A polished bronze mirror was brought before him.
The reflection showed a handsome boy with silver-black hair, sharp blue eyes, and a face no older than fifteen.
Tao Han stared.
"…This is impossible."
He remembered it clearly. His final breath. His body turning to dust beneath the heavens.
He had died.
Daniel Maxim—memories surfaced suddenly, like a flood breaking through a dam. Knowledge that was not his, yet now undeniably was.
A noble household. Wealth. Status.
Fifteen years old.
Tao Han closed his eyes briefly, steadying his mind the way he had done before battle.
"This is not possession," he muttered. "Nor illusion."
He opened his eyes and looked at the servants.
"What year is it?" he asked calmly.
One servant blinked. "Y-Year? It is the 742nd year of the Unified Federation Calendar, Young Master."
Federation?
That term had never existed in the Murim era.
"And the Central Plane?" Tao Han continued. "The Murim Alliance?"
Confusion spread across their faces.
"M-Murim… Alliance?" the maid repeated carefully, as if afraid she had misheard.
At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed through the hall.
The doors burst open.
A woman rushed in, her noble dress slightly disheveled, eyes red and swollen. The moment she saw him sitting upright, tears streamed down her face.
"Daniel!"
She crossed the room in seconds and pulled him into a tight embrace, trembling.
"I thought I lost you," she sobbed. "You collapsed for three days… I was so scared."
Tao Han stiffened.
Then—slowly—he returned the embrace.
Mother.
The word echoed in his mind, heavy and unfamiliar.
This woman was Daniel Maxim's mother.
And now… his.
"I'm… fine," he said quietly.
She pulled back just enough to cup his face, searching his eyes as if to confirm he was real. "Don't ever scare me like that again. You're my only son."
Only son.
Tao Han felt something twist in his chest—something he had never felt in his previous life.
A warmth. A connection.
The servants were dismissed soon after, leaving the room quiet once more.
Daniel Maxim sat on the bed, staring at his hands.
"So this is reincarnation," he murmured.
Not into the past.
But the future.
A world without qi, something else mysterious —at least not the kind he knew. A world of wealth, politics, and unknown power systems. And most importantly—
A second chance.
He clenched his fist, a sharp gleam flashing in his eyes—eyes that once commanded the Murim Alliance.
"I gave my first life to the world," he said softly. "This one…"
A slow, determined smile formed.
"…will be mine."
Somewhere deep within his body, something stirred—ancient instincts meeting a future that had yet to understand what it had just inherited.
And so, the man who once stood above Murim began again—
Not as a protector.
But as Daniel Maxim.