The Immortal Lower Realm had not known peace for thousands of years.
Above its broken skies, qi currents twisted like wounded beasts, colliding with the laws of heaven itself. Mountains cracked under invisible pressure. Rivers flowed backward. Even the immortals hid within their sect formations, trembling.
At the heart of the disturbance stood a knight of the imperial order.
Gu Zhunge.
His armor was old, forged in an era when the empire still challenged the heavens. The engravings upon it were worn, yet each line carried authority. Qi flowed through his body in steady cycles, restrained and precise. His cultivation had reached the Qi Power Seventh Peak, a level rarely seen in the Lower Realm.
He looked toward the sky, expression calm.
The heavens opened.
A presence descended vast, oppressive, and ancient. Demonic qi flooded the land, erasing formations and crushing will. Immortals fell to their knees as their cultivation destabilized.
The Demonic Heavenly Demon had arrived.
Gu Zhunge did not retreat.
He raised his halberd, planting its blade into the fractured ground. His qi surged outward, forming a domain of sharp, controlled pressure that resisted the demonic descent.
"You.. You are Not From This Realm" Gu Zhunge Said.
The demon's gaze settled on him.
"Correct," it replied. "And you should not be standing."
The two moved.
There was no exchange of words after that only impact. Qi collided, laws shattered, and space warped under the strain. Gu Zhunge fought with discipline refined through countless executions and campaigns. Each strike was calculated. Each movement carried intent.
It was not enough.
The gap between a Lower Realm knight and a true heavenly existence could not be bridged.
The final blow descended.
Gu Zhunge's body was torn apart, his cultivation collapsing as the demon withdrew, the heavens slowly sealing once more.
Darkness followed.
In that darkness, memory surfaced.
Not warmth. Not regret. Only recall.
He saw his sister.
Not as a body, but as a moment that never left him. She stood in the courtyard, hands bound, cultivation seals burning into her skin. Imperial soldiers surrounded her. Their armor bore the same crest he would later swear loyalty to.
The order was read aloud.
The execution followed immediately.
They did not hide it from him. They did not turn him away. They made sure he watched. Her voice broke once. Then it stopped. The reason was treason. The truth was usefulness. Her talent had threatened the balance.
Gu Zhunge did not scream.
He stood still, eyes open, memorizing every detail. The formation. The timing. The efficiency.
Learning.
Then his parents.
The exchange happened weeks later. A document stamped with imperial authority. Spirit stones placed on the table. A child with potential handed over without resistance. No pleading. No hesitation. They bowed when the officials accepted him.
Gu Zhunge bowed as well.
After that came training.
Days without names. Nights without rest. Obedience sharpened until it became instinct. Emotion was not suppressed. It was removed. He learned how to kill without pause, how to smile while receiving orders, how to guide outcomes without being seen.
The empire called him a knight.
In truth, he was a tool that learned how to think.
He had never hated the empire.
Hate required attachment.
He had only understood it.
Understanding had kept him alive.
Understanding had brought him here.
As his consciousness sank further, Gu Zhunge reviewed his life with detached clarity. There was no sorrow in it. No longing. Only assessment.
He had risen too early.
The Lower Realm had been too small. The empire too limited. His strength had outpaced the stage prepared for him. Given more time or a higher realm, the result would have changed.
That was the only failure.
No apology followed. No resentment formed.
Darkness deepened.
Then sensation returned.
Pressure. Constriction. Heat.
His thoughts stalled.
For the first time since childhood, control slipped.
His qi was gone. His cultivation erased. Meridians that once carried power were now incomplete, fragile, unfinished.
Sound followed. Rough breathing. Muffled voices. A heartbeat that was not his own.
Confusion surfaced.
Surprise.
This was not death.
Realization struck a moment later.
Reincarnation.
Gu Zhunge's awareness stabilized inside a newborn body, limited by flesh too weak to respond. The world around him was crude, thin, lacking qi. Mortal.
Inside that weakness, his thoughts reorganized.
Shock faded.
Calculation replaced it.
A new body meant a clean beginning. No empire. No chains. No history imposed before choice. A world unprepared for him.
The infant drew breath and cried, the sound uncontrolled and instinctive. Behind it, the mind remained intact, sharp, already adapting.
Gu Zhunge remembered exactly what he was.
A will that pursued power without restraint.
This life would not be spent serving.
This time, he would climb from the lowest point.
And whatever stood above him would exist only until he decided otherwise.