The first thing Zayden Aurum felt was pain.
It wasn't the sharp headache of an all-nighter. Nor was it the dull muscle soreness after a long walk home. This pain was overwhelming—crushing, suffocating, all-encompassing. His chest burned as air forced its way into his lungs, uninvited and violent.
He tried to scream.
What came out instead was a weak, shrill cry.
The sound shocked him more than the pain.
That can't be my voice.
Light assaulted his senses next. Blinding, golden light filtered through hazy vision as enormous, indistinct shapes loomed over him. Shadows moved. Voices echoed, distorted, and far too loud.
"He's crying! Praise the heavens, the crown prince draws breath!"
"So strong! Listen to that cry!"
"Auspicious! Truly auspicious!"
Crown prince?
Zayden tried to move. He tried to sit up, to raise a hand—anything at all. But his body refused to obey. His limbs felt impossibly small. Weak. Disconnected. Panic surged through his thoughts.
Calm down. Think. The last thing I remember was
—
A library. A late-night research session. A strange old manuscript on Eastern philosophy and cultivation myths. He'd picked it up out of curiosity. He remembered laughing to himself about reincarnation stories, about systems and chosen ones.
Then, darkness.
And now, this.
A warm cloth was wrapped around him. Gentle but firm hands lifted his body, cradling him against something soft and warm. A steady heartbeat thumped against his ear.
"He's beautiful," a woman's voice whispered, trembling with emotion. "Tiberius… look at him."
Another voice responded, deep and controlled, carrying the authority of someone used to command. "My son."
Zayden's thoughts raced.
Son? No. That's impossible. I'm twenty years old. I was—
The memories slammed into him all at once.
Zayden Aurum. University student. Earth. Modern world.
And yet, beneath that identity, something else stirred: foreign instincts, a fragile body, and a newborn's senses.
Realisation dawned slowly, terrifyingly.
I've… been reborn? The pain dulled. His breath steadied. Though helpless, his mind and consciousness stayed intact—adult and clear.
Stay calm.
If this is a reincarnation, panic helps nothing.
The woman holding him laughed softly through tears. "He's so calm now. Look at his eyes, Selene, they're so focused."
"Unusual for a newborn," another voice said, older, measured. "Very unusual."
Zayden opened his eyes fully.
Gold.
That was the first colour he truly registered.
Golden drapes embroidered with arcane symbols. Golden pillars carved with dragons and suns. Even the canopy above the large bed shimmered faintly, its fabric woven with threads of light.
He was in a palace.
A royal palace.
A man stood beside the bed. He was tall and broad-shouldered, wearing regal robes embroidered with sigils that seemed to pulse with power. His presence alone made the air feel heavy. Commanding.
Emperor, Zayden realised instinctively.
Emperor Tiberius.
The name surfaced as if it had always been there. The woman holding him—beautiful, radiant even in exhaustion—could only be Empress Selene.
Golden Empire.
The term echoed in his mind.
This wasn't Earth. It wasn't even a familiar fantasy world. But one thing was clear: this society thrived on power.
And with that, danger.
Servants hovered close by, faces mixed with awe and reverence. None spoke loudly. Every movement was measured and careful.
Zayden watched them all, his infant body still, his mind sharp.
Then,
A sudden sensation bloomed behind his eyes, just as his thoughts dwelled on the impossibility of his situation. Something in him seemed to respond—not to the chaos around him, but directly to his consciousness.
A new presence emerged, distinct from the physical sensations and thoughts—a deliberate, focused awareness that felt both foreign and connected to him.
A mechanical voice echoed in his mind, emotionless and direct: Initialising...
Consciousness synchronisation complete.
Welcome, Host.
Zayden froze internally
.…What?
As the realisation struck, the world dimmed, and translucent symbols appeared in his mind, floating effortlessly within his consciousness—clear signs of something external acting upon him.
Perfect Cultivation Optimiser System is initialising. Activation complete.
Primary Function: Analyse, refine, and perfect all cultivation techniques learned by Host.
Status: Dormant (Awaiting first cultivation method).
A system.
A real system. Unbelievable.
Zayden would have laughed if he had the lungs or the sanity to do so.
So I really am in one of these stories.
Despite the absurdity, a thrill ran through him. It wasn't reckless excitement, but measured, controlled anticipation.
If this system does what? His thoughts were interrupted as an elderly man stepped forward. He wore simple robes, but the air around him seemed to shimmer, as if reality itself bent to his presence.
"The Royal Physician," someone announced.
The old man bowed deeply to the emperor and empress before approaching the bed. His eyes fell on Zayden, sharp and probing.
"May I?"
Selene nodded, reluctant but trusting.
Gentle fingers pressed against Zayden's tiny wrist.
At the touch, something shifted inside him.
A warmth flowed through unknown channels—meridians, his mind suggested. The sensation felt right.
The physician's eyes widened.
"…Extraordinary."
The room stilled.
"Your Majesty," the old man said slowly, reverently, "His Highness's meridians are… exceptionally robust. Perfectly formed. I have never seen such purity in a newborn."
Tiberius's gaze sharpened. "What does that mean?"
"It means," the physician replied, voice tinged with awe, "that the crown prince possesses unparalleled spiritual potential. If he cultivates… There may be no limit to his growth."
A ripple of excitement swept through the room.
"A heaven-born prince…"
"The Golden Empire is blessed!"
Zayden absorbed every word.
Cultivation. Meridians. Spiritual potential.
This was a world where strength set status, and status determined survival.
And he had been born at the very top.
But Zayden wasn't naive.
Being the crown prince doesn't mean being safe.
He knew from history and fiction how royal courts turned dangerous: assassinations, schemes, power struggles behind smiles and bows.
Especially in a world where power could transcend armies.
The system interface pulsed softly, as if responding to his thoughts.
Note: Host possesses an optimal foundation. Early cultivation is strongly recommended.
Zayden focused inward, testing his awareness. Though his body was that of a newborn, his mind could feel the faint energy in the air—subtle, ambient, waiting to be drawn in.
Qi.
So it begins.
He couldn't cultivate yet. His body was too fragile. But he could observe. Learn. Prepare.
And when the time came,
I will be ready.
As servants carefully laid him into a gilded cradle, Zayden stared up at the golden canopy, his infant face calm, eyes unnervingly clear.
In the heart of the Golden Empire, beneath watchful gods and scheming men alike, a soul from another world had been reborn.
And the game had already begun.