The cold stone floor pressed against his skin, leeching what little warmth he had left. Lu Tianran blinked, his vision swimming as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The dim light from a single torch flickered weakly, casting long, quivering shadows across the walls of the dungeon.
He inhaled sharply, his breath catching in his throat. His chest ached, his limbs felt heavy, and his body... His body wasn't his own. He raised his trembling hands, staring at them. They were thin, frail, and marred with scars that told a story of hardship and suffering.
"What... what is this?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and cracked.
The clinking of chains answered him as he moved. His wrists and ankles were shackled, the iron biting into his skin. Panic bubbled in his chest. He struggled against the restraints, his breathing growing ragged.
This wasn't right. He was Lu Tianran, the Devil Sovereign, the most feared being in the Dark Abyss. He had stood atop mountains of corpses, wielding power that made the heavens themselves tremble. But his body—his power—was gone.
The last thing he remembered was... Zhou Yan.
The thought hit him like a blow to the chest. He saw it again, clear as day—the battlefield littered with bodies, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood. And there, standing before him, was Zhou Yan, his most trusted disciple, holding a cursed blade.
"Teacher..." Zhou's voice had trembled, tears streaming down his face. "You've brought too much chaos. The world... can't take any more of your tyranny."
Lu Tianran had felt the blade pierce his back, the cursed energy severing his connection to his abyssal power. He remembered the betrayal, the pain, and then... nothing.
And now, here he was. Alive, but not in his own body.
The sound of approaching footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. He turned his head toward the source, the faint jingling of keys accompanying the heavy thud of boots. A figure emerged from the shadows—a burly man with a scarred face, his expression twisted into a smirk.
"Awake already?" the jailer said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the bars. "Doesn't matter. You won't be for long."
Lu Tianran remained silent, his sharp gaze fixed on the man.
The jailer chuckled, the sound echoing in the small cell. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you're just coming to terms with your fate."
"My... fate?" Tianran rasped, his voice foreign to his ears.
"Dead by dawn," the jailer said bluntly. "You're the last one, you know. The last rat from the Fallen Moon Sect. The righteous sects have been hunting your kind for years. Burned your little hideout to the ground, rounded up the survivors, and now here you are—waiting for your turn at the gallows."
The words meant nothing to Tianran. The Fallen Moon Sect? The righteous sects? This wasn't his world. The realization sent a shiver down his spine.
"I don't suppose there's been a misunderstanding," Tianran said, his tone sharp despite his weakened state.
The jailer snorted. "Nice try, heretic. You demonic cultivators are all the same—always trying to worm your way out of justice." He leaned closer, his smirk widening. "But don't worry. The sects will make sure you pay for every innocent life your kind took."
Tianran's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "Innocent. How quaint."
The jailer frowned, clearly irritated. "You're awful smug for a dead man. Don't worry. We'll wipe that look off your face soon enough."
With that, the man turned and walked away, his boots echoing in the silence.
Tianran leaned back against the wall, his mind racing. The jailer's words were meaningless on the surface, but they revealed much. This world had its own power structure, its own laws and rules. And this body... this body wasn't his.
Before he could think further, a sharp pain exploded in his head. He clutched at his temples, his breath hitching as a torrent of memories surged through him.
He saw a boy—young, timid, and unsure—standing in the shadow of crumbling sect halls. The elders argued, their voices filled with desperation. The Fallen Moon Sect, once a feared name in the cultivation world, was on the brink of collapse. Betrayed by their allies and hunted by the righteous sects, they were falling apart.
The boy's name was Wei Liang. He was no one special—just a disciple of mediocre talent. When the sect fell, he was captured, stripped of his cultivation, and thrown into this dungeon. He had endured torture and humiliation, his only crime being his affiliation with the sect.
His final memory was one of despair. As he sat in the darkness of his cell, awaiting his execution, he had thought: If I had another chance... I would kill them all.
The memories faded, leaving Tianran gasping for air. His head throbbed, and his heart pounded against his ribcage.
"So," he muttered, his voice laced with bitter amusement, "this is the life I've inherited."
He closed his eyes, sifting through the fragments of Wei Liang's memories. The boy had been weak, a victim of circumstance. But Tianran was not Wei Liang. He was Lu Tianran, the Devil Sovereign, and he refused to meet the same fate.
Forcing himself to focus, he searched for the faint traces of energy within this body. Wei Liang's cultivation had been crippled, his meridians damaged, but faint remnants of power still lingered. It was weak and unstable, but it was enough.
Energy is energy, Tianran thought. And I know how to wield it.
Drawing on his knowledge of forbidden techniques, he began channeling his life force into the dormant meridians. Pain flared in his chest, sharp and searing, as he forced the energy to flow.
"Rise," he hissed through gritted teeth. "You will not die here."
The faint spark of energy grew, spreading through his veins like wildfire. His breathing grew ragged, and sweat dripped down his brow, but he pushed through the pain. After what felt like an eternity, the energy stabilized.
Tianran opened his eyes, his gaze cold and determined
"This world will regret letting me live," he whispered, his voice barely audible but filled with conviction.
And for the first time since awakening, he smiled.
End of Chapter 1