My name is Lin Feng. In another life, I was feared across the heavens. They called me the Void Sovereign-ruler of the forgotten realms, slayer of immortals, and the one who severed fate itself. That life is gone.
I remember the moment it all ended. The skies cracked open, gods descended, and the sect I built with blood and soul turned on me. I saw the faces of my disciples, the ones I raised, twist with fear and ambition. They struck me down. My soul was torn apart and cast into the abyss.
I thought that was the end.
But when I opened my eyes again, I was in a different body. Weak. Cold. Broken. I had been reborn in a barren region of the outer continents a place where cultivation barely touched the soil. The body I now inhabited belonged to a boy who had been crippled from birth. His meridians were shattered, his spirit root fractured beyond repair. He was worthless in the eyes of the world. Trash.
The people in this remote village treated him like one too. They looked at me--him--with pity at best, contempt at worst. I didn't know his name, and frankly, I didn't need to. That life had ended the moment I opened my eyes. Now, I was Lin Feng again. Just without power, without allies, and without a path.
For the first few days, I could barely sit up. The pain wasn't just in the body--it was in the silence. No divine sense. No energy flow. No whisper of the void that once followed me like a shadow. I was alone. Powerless. Forgotten.
But the void does not forget.
On the seventh night, as I sat beneath a dying tree and stared at the fractured moon, I felt it--just a flicker. A thread of the void still clung to me, buried deep within the soul that had refused to scatter. It was faint. Distant. But it was mine.
That was all I needed.
From that moment on, I began again. Not with grand declarations. Not with rage or revenge. I began by crawling. By learning this body. By understanding its limits-and then breaking them.
There were no pills here. No ancient tomes or masters to guide me. Just dust, silence, and time. But time… time was something I had once bent. I knew how to wait.
Every morning, I'd wake before the sun. The villagers thought I was insane, meditating in the fields where spirit energy was thinner than air. They mocked me, spat near me, some even threw stones. But I didn't flinch. I had been crushed by gods-what was a few rocks to me?
Then one day, something shifted.
I felt it during meditation. A pulse. A tremble beneath my fractured root. The remnants of my past life stirred-faint, scattered fragments of cultivation knowledge long thought lost to this world. Forbidden arts. Paths that no longer existed. Things I had sealed away even from myself.
It was dangerous.
But I had nothing else.
I began experimenting in secret. Scratching symbols into the dirt. Testing soul resonance with broken stones. I used what little I had to build a foundation--one not of this world, not of this era. One forged from the ashes of my former self.
And as the first strand of true energy moved through my shattered root, I smiled.
I was weak.
But I was rising.
And the world would remember me--not as the cripple they threw away, but as the storm they failed to kill.