Three days had passed since his chaotic, unexpected rebirth. The boy—now named Huang Li—found himself wandering through the crumbling ruins of what was once a grand castle. The shattered stone walls and broken towers gave only a vague hint of its former glory. Now, it was nothing more than rubble, a fitting metaphor for his current situation.
He kicked a few loose rocks aside as he aimlessly explored the remains, the sound of his footsteps echoing eerily in the silence. The desolate realm was quiet—too quiet. No birds, no wind, no signs of life. It was just him and the ruins. The oppressive quiet made everything feel heavier, as though the weight of his newfound reality was settling in.
Huang Li sighed and sat on a large chunk of stone that might've once been part of a throne or grand staircase. "This is my life now, huh?"
Three days ago, he had been An Lan, a normal guy from the modern world. A nerdy guy who spent his free time playing Pokémon Ultra Moon, obsessed with completing his Pokédex. He'd died in the most undignified way imaginable—a heart attack, of all things, in the middle of a battle. One minute he was about to crush the Elite Four, and the next... game over. For real.
Now, instead of navigating virtual battles, he was stuck in a world ripped straight out of a cultivation novel. Reincarnated as the last heir of the Huang Clan—a once-mighty, now-extinct demonic lineage that had left behind nothing but ruins and terrible memories.
His inheritance had arrived in fragmented bursts, like snippets of a badly edited movie. Each piece of memory revealed more about the chaos he was now a part of. The Huang Clan had been powerful, feared, and—by any reasonable standard—insane. His ancestors thrived on destruction, chaos, and raw, unchecked power. They didn't just dominate; they delighted in it, like villains from an R-rated fantasy saga.
"Of course," Huang Li muttered, rolling his eyes. "I couldn't be reborn into a normal cultivator family, could I? Nope. I get the psycho clan. Great."
His ancestors would have been a nightmare to deal with, but at least they had the decency to be dead. The problem now was that he was trapped in their old stomping ground, the desolate realm that had once been the proud domain of the Huang Clan. According to his fragmented memories, it had once been brimming with spirit energy, a paradise for cultivation. But now? There wasn't even a whiff of spiritual energy left. It was a barren wasteland.
To escape, he needed to reach the Immortal King level in cultivation—a feat that would have been impossible for anyone, let alone someone who couldn't even cultivate because the realm was as spiritually dead as a rock.
"No spirit energy, no cultivation, no way out," Huang Li muttered, kicking at a loose piece of debris. "And I get to spend my chance to cultivate immortality starving to death in this dump. Wonderful."
He stood up and began pacing, trying to shake off the growing sense of doom. His body, at least, was something to marvel at. It wasn't just strong—it was absurdly powerful. Formed from the fusion of five immortal treasures—the Inferno Dragon's Heartstone, the Tidal Serpent's Scale, the Skywhisper Feather, the Mountainbreaker Stone, and the Celestial Iron Essence—his new body was a walking powerhouse. He flexed his hands, feeling the immense strength coursing through him.
"I could probably wrestle a tiger. Hell, I could probably punch an elephant into next week," Huang Li mused aloud. It was true. His body was built for combat, destruction, and sheer dominance. A legacy of his insane ancestors, no doubt.
But for what? What good was being able to punch mountains if there were no mountains left to punch? Worse yet, what good was all this strength if he couldn't even find something to eat? His stomach growled loudly, reminding him of the grim reality.
"I'm going to die of hunger before my lifespan runs out," he muttered, rubbing his stomach. "How's that for irony? I've got the strength to take on dragons, but I'm going to lose to an empty stomach."
The castle ruins offered no reprieve. No food, no water, no signs of life. He'd explored nearly every corner of the place, hoping—praying—that maybe, just maybe, his ancestors had left behind some emergency stash of food in case one of them had a similar problem. But no, the Huang Clan clearly hadn't considered mundane necessities like eating in their quest for domination.
"Why would they?" Huang Li grumbled. "Too busy conquering the world to think about where their next meal was coming from." Well they don't need food as they can sustain themselves with spirit energy.
He kicked another piece of rubble, sending it flying across the empty courtyard. His ancestors might have been demonic powerhouses, but they sure hadn't been practical.
He sat back down, head in his hands, trying to process his situation. The irony wasn't lost on him. He was descended from a clan of world-destroyers, demonic cultivators who had struck fear into the hearts of countless enemies. They had wielded power like it was a toy, crushing anything and anyone in their path. And here he was, their last heir, starving in the middle of nowhere.
It would've been funny if it wasn't happening to him.
"Ancestors, you were all mad," he muttered, "but I guess that's what made you strong. Too bad I didn't inherit your ability to find food in a barren wasteland."
But unlike his ancestors, Huang Li had no desire to follow in their destructive footsteps. Sure, being strong was nice. Having the ability to punch through mountains was a cool perk. But he didn't want to conquer the world or spread chaos. No, what he wanted was much simpler.
He wanted to see the world—the mystical world he'd only read about in his memories. He wanted to explore, to live, to experience all the wonders this new life had to offer. He wanted to relax by a spiritual river, maybe nap under a cherry blossom tree, watch the cultivators train and do their fancy tricks. But now, he was stuck in this dead realm, where his biggest enemy wasn't some powerful cultivator or wild beast—it was starvation.
"Of all the things to kill me," he sighed. "I really didn't sign up for this."
The desolate realm had no escape for someone like him. Without spirit energy, he couldn't cultivate. Without cultivation, he couldn't grow stronger. And without getting stronger, he had no way to leave. To break free from this place, he would need to reach the Immortal King level—a level of power so far beyond him that it might as well have been a dream. And even if he somehow managed to reach that level, what then? He'd be an Immortal King with no kingdom to rule, no people to fear him.
"Fantastic," he muttered. "Super-strong body, can punch through a mountain, but I'm going to starve to death because there's no food."
The absurdity of it all made him laugh—just a little. It was the kind of laugh that teetered on the edge of madness. After all, what else could he do? He had been given a second chance at life, but instead of the grand adventure he'd hoped for, he was stuck in a dead realm with nothing but his own thoughts for company.
And his ancestors, with their insane power and endless ambition, had left him in the ultimate contradiction: strong enough to destroy the world, but not a crumb to eat.
"Ancestors, I don't know what you were thinking," Huang Li said, staring up at the sky—or what passed for the sky in this realm. "But I'm not you. I don't want to cause chaos or conquer anything. I just want to live a quiet life. Is that so much to ask?"
He sighed, resigned to his fate, and lay down on the cold stone floor of the ruined castle. Strong enough to face down an army, but at risk of losing to the deadliest enemy of all—an empty stomach.