The world was bathed in twilight as the last remnants of the sun sank below the horizon. Lanterns flickered to life in the sprawling estate of the Lin family, one of the most powerful and affluent clans in the Liang Kingdom. Their ancestral home, a grand structure of ornate woodwork and marble, stood as a testament to generations of wealth and influence. Yet, within its opulent halls, a storm brewed.
Lin Tianming, the eldest son of the prestigious Lin family, lay unconscious in his chamber. His breathing was shallow, his face pale as death. Servants whispered among themselves, their hushed voices filled with apprehension. It had been three days since he collapsed during the family's annual martial arts demonstration, an event meant to showcase the talent and potential of the next generation. Instead, Lin Tianming had become a laughingstock.
His father, Lin Zhaoyu, the patriarch of the family, stood near the bed, his expression a mix of disappointment and worry. "Useless," he muttered under his breath, though his clenched fists betrayed his inner turmoil. "The eldest son of the Lin family, unable to even channel the simplest qi. What a disgrace."
Little did they know, within the seemingly lifeless body of Lin Tianming, a divine soul stirred.
---
Darkness enveloped him, an eternal void stretching infinitely in all directions. Memories of a past life surged through his consciousness, each fragment more vivid than the last. He was not merely Lin Tianming, the despised son of a wealthy clan. No, he was once more.
Tianwu, the God of War, revered and feared across realms, a being who had ascended to godhood through millennia of battle and conquest. He had commanded armies of mortals and immortals alike, his name a rallying cry for the righteous and a harbinger of doom for the wicked. Yet, even gods were not invincible.
Betrayed by those he trusted most, Tianwu had fallen in a celestial ambush, his divine essence scattered across the cosmos. His enemies had thought him vanquished, erased from existence. But fate, or perhaps irony, had a cruel sense of humor. His soul had latched onto a fragile mortal shell, a boy scorned and ridiculed by all.
Awareness returned like a tidal wave, crashing through the remnants of Lin Tianming's feeble mind. "So, this is my new vessel?" Tianwu mused, his voice echoing within the confines of his consciousness. "Pathetic. Weak. And yet... I live."
---
Lin Tianming's eyes fluttered open, the dim light of the room piercing his vision. He groaned, his limbs heavy as if weighed down by iron chains. Servants gasped and scurried out of the room, likely to inform the family of his awakening.
As he adjusted to his surroundings, a flood of new sensations overwhelmed him. The body he now inhabited was frail, its meridians clogged and qi pathways underdeveloped. It was a far cry from his former divine vessel, a construct of pure energy and might.
He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "To think I, the God of War, have been reduced to this... mockery of existence. But no matter. I will rise again, even from the ashes of this worthless shell."
Moments later, the door burst open, and Lin Zhaoyu strode in, followed by Lin Tianming's younger siblings, Lin Xiaoyu and Lin Haoran. Both were prodigies, their talent in martial arts and cultivation evident even at a young age. Their disdain for their elder brother was poorly concealed.
"You've finally decided to wake up," Lin Zhaoyu said, his tone cold. "Do you realize the shame you've brought upon our family? Collapsing in front of the entire clan, unable to even sustain a basic stance. Do you know how many whispers I've had to endure because of you?"
Lin Tianming-no, Tianwu-remained silent, his mind racing. He needed to bide his time, to understand this world, this family, and the intricacies of mortal cultivation. For now, it was best to play the part of the hapless eldest son.
"I'm... sorry, Father," he murmured, his voice hoarse.
Lin Zhaoyu's eyes narrowed, his expression unreadable. "Sorry won't fix anything. If you truly wish to redeem yourself, you'll join the family's training grounds tomorrow. No more excuses. No more failures."
"Yes, Father," Tianwu replied, bowing his head.
---
As night fell, Tianwu sat cross-legged on his bed, his thoughts a tempest of plans and possibilities. He extended his senses inward, examining the pitiful state of his body. His dantian, the core of cultivation, was fractured, its capacity for qi minimal. Years of neglect and ridicule had taken their toll.
But Tianwu was no ordinary soul. He was a god reborn, his understanding of qi and martial arts unparalleled. Closing his eyes, he began the arduous process of repairing his foundation.
He focused on his breathing, drawing in the ambient qi from the air. It was thin and impure, but it would suffice. With meticulous precision, he guided the qi through his damaged meridians, clearing blockages and fortifying his pathways. The process was excruciating, like molten iron coursing through his veins, but he endured. Pain was an old companion, one he had long since mastered.
Hours passed, and by dawn, a faint glow radiated from his body. Though his progress was minimal compared to his past life, it was a start. The once-broken dantian now hummed with a spark of energy, a seed of potential waiting to bloom.
---
The training grounds of the Lin family were a sprawling complex, filled with young disciples honing their skills under the watchful eyes of seasoned instructors. Lin Tianming stood at the edge of the grounds, his presence barely acknowledged by the others.
"Why is he here?" one of the disciples muttered.
"Probably to embarrass himself again," another sneered.
Lin Xiaoyu and Lin Haoran smirked as they sparred in the center of the grounds, their movements fluid and precise. Compared to them, Lin Tianming was a shadow, a forgotten relic of the family's past.
"Lin Tianming," barked the head instructor, Master Huang. "Since you've graced us with your presence, show us what you've learned. Or have you been lazing about as usual?"
Tianwu stepped forward, his expression calm. This was his chance to test his newfound strength, to gauge the limits of his mortal vessel.
He picked up a training sword, its weight unfamiliar in his hands. Memories of countless battles surged forth, guiding his movements. With a deep breath, he assumed a basic stance, one he had mastered eons ago.
The disciples snickered, expecting him to falter. But as Tianwu began to move, their laughter turned to stunned silence.
His strikes were slow but deliberate, each swing precise and controlled. Though his body lacked strength, his technique was impeccable, a reflection of countless lifetimes of combat. Even Master Huang, a veteran warrior, watched with furrowed brows.
"Where did he learn that?" someone whispered.
Lin Xiaoyu and Lin Haoran exchanged uneasy glances. This was not the Lin Tianming they knew, the bumbling fool who tripped over his own feet.
By the time Tianwu finished, sweat dripped from his brow, and his limbs trembled from exertion. But his eyes burned with determination. This was only the beginning.
Master Huang cleared his throat, struggling to mask his surprise. "Not bad. For once, you've shown some promise. Let's see if you can keep it up."
As Tianwu returned to his place, he smirked inwardly. The path ahead was treacherous, filled with challenges and enemies waiting to exploit his weaknesses. But he was no stranger to adversity.
The God of War had fallen, but in this new life, he would rise again. And when he did, the heavens themselves would tremble.
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