Surya lay on the rooftop, his body heavy with exhaustion, his mind adrift in a sea of thoughts. Below him, the city pulsed with life—a symphony of lights, sounds, and movement—but he felt utterly detached, as though he were already a ghost, watching from the periphery of existence. 

Above him, the night sky stretched endlessly, a vast canvas of stars that seemed to mock his insignificance. He stared into the void, his breath shallow, his heart a faint echo in his chest. Then, he saw it—a streak of light, blazing across the heavens. But this was no ordinary shooting star. It wasn't fading into the horizon; it was growing larger, brighter, closer.

His breath hitched, a cold realization washing over him, sharper than the biting night air. This wasn't a star. It was death itself, hurtling toward him with unrelenting purpose. His time was up. His life, fragile and fleeting, would soon vanish from this world.

Defeated, he let out a deep sigh, the sound swallowed by the stillness of the night. His mind, strangely calm, drifted to a single thought' At least I have the privilege of knowing when I'll die.'

A peaceful smile touched his lips as he closed his eyes, accepting the inevitable. The light grew brighter, enveloping him in its radiant embrace, and for a moment, he felt nothing but serenity. Then, there was nothing at all.

—

When Surya opened his eyes again, the world was a blur of light and sound. His vision slowly sharpened, revealing the face of a beautiful young woman hovering over him. She appeared to be in her prime, her features soft and radiant, yet there was an air of innocence about her that made her seem almost childlike.

But Surya knew better. He had died—his previous life extinguished in a blaze of light—and now, he had been reborn. A newborn, just days old, in a world he didn't understand.

The young woman, dressed in a maid's outfit reminiscent of a Japanese kimono, smiled down at him with a gentleness that felt almost out of place. Her fair skin glowed in the soft light, and her braided black hair framed her face, adding to her charm. Her eyes, wide and bright, sparkled with a purity that contrasted sharply with the cold, calculating world Surya would soon come to know.

Over the past few days, Surya had pieced together a few things. This woman, Ai, was his caretaker, tasked with looking after him and the other infants in this vast room—a space so large it could accommodate hundreds, if not thousands. The sheer scale of it all was overwhelming, but Surya's newborn mind could only process so much.

As he lay there, trying to make sense of his surroundings, a tall, stern-faced man entered the room. His butler's uniform was immaculate, and despite his age, he carried himself with the strength and grace of someone far younger. His presence commanded respect, and even Ai straightened up at his approach.

"Ai," the man said, his voice deep and authoritative, "the master has ordered all the young masters to be brought to the Ceremonial Ground. Ensure it is done promptly."

Ai bowed her head slightly, her innocent smile never wavering. "I will bring all the young masters as soon as possible, Senior Butler Ya," she replied, her voice soft and melodic, like the chime of a distant bell.

Senior Butler Ya gave a curt nod, his sharp eyes scanning the room before he turned on his heel and left. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the vast space, a reminder of the order and discipline that governed this strange new world.

—

The Wudi Family was one of the Five Great Cultivation Families, a name that inspired both fear and reverence across Sacred Dao Earth. Their leaders wielded inhuman power, their strength forged through generations of cultivating the Heaven Killing Dao.

It was said that their progenitor, a man who called himself Rai, was born with the ability to grow stronger with every life he took. This innate power became the foundation of the Wudi Family's legacy, a bloodline that thrived on death and destruction.

The family was divided into two branches: the Main Family, who carried the pure bloodline of the Wudi Ancestors, and the Branch Family, whose blood was diluted through unions with outsiders.

Despite this division, every newborn in the Wudi Family, regardless of their lineage, was required to undergo the Awakening Ceremony. This sacred ritual was designed to awaken the latent potential within each child, allowing them to tap into the Heaven Killing Dao from an early age.

The ceremony was a monumental event, one that consumed vast amounts of the family's resources. But the Wudi Family spared no expense, for every child who awakened their potential was a future powerhouse, a weapon to ensure the family's dominance for generations to come. It was a brutal cycle, but one that had allowed the Wudi Family to flourish since the dawn of the Cultivation Era.

As Surya—now a newborn in this world—was carried toward the Ceremonial Ground, he had no idea of the weight of his lineage or the power that lay dormant within him. But soon, he would learn the truth: that in the Wudi Family, strength was born from death, and survival was reserved for those who could kill without hesitation.

The Ceremonial Ground was a sight to behold—a vast arena surrounded by four towering heavenly pillars, each etched with intricate, mysterious Dao engravings that pulsed with an otherworldly energy. 

At the center stood a massive stone tablet, its surface alive with glowing Dao runes that shimmered faintly, as if channeling the very laws of creation. It was as though the tablet itself yearned to give birth to a new heaven and earth, a testament to the Wudi Family's profound connection to the Dao.

Surrounding the arena were figures of immense power, their presence alone enough to command respect and awe. Elderly men in long, flowing Dao robes exuded an aura of transcendence, their eyes sharp and knowing.

 Beside them stood elegant women, their luxurious outfits making them appear like immortal fairies stepped out of a divine painting. Even the servants, maids, and guards seemed to carry an air of reverence, their eyes fixed on the center of the arena where the future of the Wudi Family would soon be decided.

Ai, along with several other maids, guided hundreds of newborns into the arena using a flying artifact that resembled a cradle. The artifact hovered gracefully, its gentle glow contrasting with the solemn atmosphere. As the newborns were brought forward, the crowd's attention shifted, their gazes filled with a mix of curiosity and anticipation. These infants, so small and fragile, held the potential to shape the family's destiny.

Among the onlookers stood Elder Tong, a towering figure clad in a long white robe adorned with embroidered dragons and phoenixes. His presence was commanding, his strength unfathomable. Beside him was Steward Hua, a man whose sharp azure eyes and celestial beauty radiated an almost divine aura.

 Dressed in a long, black outfit that resembled the wings of a divine dragon, Steward Hua was a figure of both elegance and mystery. Though his cultivation was said to be weak, his wisdom and cunning were legendary—traits that had earned him the trust of the Patriarch Wudi himself.

"Steward Hua," Elder Tong began, his deep voice carrying a note of curiosity, "what do you think will come of this year's ceremony?"

Steward Hua smiled faintly, his gaze sweeping over the newborns. "I believe many of these children will show great promise," he replied, his tone calm and measured. "The Wudi Family has always been blessed with talent. This year will be no different."

As the ceremony began, the air grew thick with anticipation. The newborns, unaware of the weight placed upon them, lay quietly, their futures hanging in the balance.

—

As the newborns were placed on the ground in the center of the arena, a hush fell over the crowd. All eyes turned upward as a figure emerged in the sky, his presence alone enough to silence the murmurs of anticipation. It was Patriarch Wudi, the undisputed ruler of the Wudi Family and the strongest cultivator in their history.

Draped in a divine garment that seemed to manifest the heavens themselves, the Patriarch radiated an aura of primordial truth. His sharp eyes, cold and unyielding, swept over the crowd like a divine blade, cutting through any semblance of resistance. A single glance from him was enough to awaken a primal fear in every family member, their instincts screaming at them to submit.

Patriarch Wudi's power was beyond mortal comprehension. His long beard and mustache, black as ink, contrasted with his ageless, youthful appearance. Though his muscular frame was concealed beneath his divine robes, his very presence unleashed an oppressive aura—one that felt capable of suppressing entire eons. Standing at a towering 7'5 feet, he was a figure of unmatched majesty and authority.

"Greetings, Patriarch," the crowd intoned. The ordinary members—servants, guards, and those from the side branch—fell to their knees, their foreheads pressed to the ground. The prominent figures, however, offered only a slight bow, their pride allowing no more than that. Yet even they could not hide the flicker of fear in their eyes.

Patriarch Wudi nodded, a simple gesture that carried the weight of countless mysteries. It was said that in his youth, he had been the most talented killer of his generation. Those who dared oppose him either met their end or spent their lives hiding in the shadows, forever haunted by his legend.

"Let the ceremony commence," he declared, his voice cold and resonant, like the toll of a death knell. It was a voice that seemed to belong to a higher dimension, one that sent chills through the blood and spines of all who heard it. The words echoed across the arena, a command that brooked no disobedience.

—

The moment Patriarch Wudi commanded the ceremony to begin, the Ancestral Tablet at the center of the arena erupted in a blinding light. It was a radiance that seemed to pierce through time and space, reaching into the past, present, and future.

 The crowd watched in awe as a multicolored celestial light descended from the heavens, connecting the sky to the earth—or rather, to the hundreds of newborn infants lying on the ground.

The light carried with it visions of the creation of the universe, the establishment of natural laws, and the birth of the primordial void. It was as if the Dao itself was unfolding before their eyes, evolving from its simplest form into the Grand Dao, achieving immortality and becoming the Immortal Dao. The ceremony had begun.

One by one, the infants began to manifest their talents. The first child's body glowed with an intense heat, and above him, an image of fire consuming the world materialized.

"That child possesses a Fire Affinity," Steward Hua observed, his sharp azure eyes narrowing in appraisal. "To burn the world… This child has a Third Rate Talent." Though not extraordinary, it was a satisfactory result, and Steward Hua nodded in approval.

Before the crowd could react, Elder Tong pointed to another child. This infant's body radiated a chilling cold, and above him, an image of a frozen world appeared—a realm where everything was encased in eternal silence.

"An Ice Affinity," Steward Hua said, a rare smile tugging at his lips. "And a Second Rate Talent at that. This is a rare find, even for our family. A Treasured Talent, indeed."

The crowd murmured in approval. Second Rate Talents were uncommon, and each one was considered a valuable asset to the family. As for a First Rate Talent, it was a blessing beyond measure—a prodigy who could become the family's Saint Child or even its God Child. But it had been years since the Wudi Family had last seen such a talent.

The ceremony continued, with most infants manifesting Third Rate Talents—solid foundations for the family's future. A handful, however, displayed Second Rate Talents, each one met with quiet satisfaction. These children would be nurtured with the family's finest resources, their potential carefully cultivated.

But then, a loud boom shattered the air. The crowd turned as one, their expressions grave but unsurprised. A newborn had failed to awaken its talent. 

The infant's body had exploded in a gruesome display, scattering blood, bones, and flesh across the arena. Internal organs, now unrecognizable, lay strewn about like macabre decorations. It was a sight that would have made anyone vomit, but the Wudi Family showed no sympathy.

"Nothing unexpected," one of the elders sighed, his voice tinged with disappointment. "Just a waste of resources."

"Let us hope no more are wasted," another elder added, his tone equally dismissive.

In the Wudi Family, failure was not mourned. It was merely a regrettable loss of resources. The ceremony pressed on, each explosion a stark reminder of the brutal reality of their world.

—

Surya lay bathed in the multicolored celestial light, his small body trembling as an unfamiliar power surged through him. It was overwhelming, intoxicating—a force that seemed to promise endless strength and boundless potential. Yet, he couldn't understand what was happening. His mind raced, questions swirling like a storm.

"What is going on?" he thought, his newborn mind struggling to grasp the enormity of the moment. But before he could make sense of it, his body erupted with an otherworldly power. It shot into the sky like a spear, piercing through space itself, and began to manifest a divine image above him.

The crowd gasped as a colossal gate materialized in the heavens. Forged from an unknown iron, the gate was as vast as a star, its surface etched with intricate, ancient runes. But what truly captivated everyone was the face drawn upon it—a face split into two halves. On the right was a demonic visage, its features twisted and menacing, radiating an aura of death so profound it felt like the embodiment of annihilation itself. On the left was an angelic countenance, serene and radiant, exuding a warmth that promised life and renewal.

The demonic face was the God of Death, a being that granted the finality of oblivion. The angelic face was the Mother of Life, a force that breathed vitality into existence. Together, they represented the eternal balance of creation and destruction, life and death.

"This… what is this?" murmured one of the elders, his voice trembling with awe. Even the strongest members of the Wudi Family were left speechless, their eyes wide with shock and fascination.

Steward Hua, his sharp azure eyes fixed on the gate, shuddered as he spoke. "This… this talent… it's a First Rate Talent." His voice quivered with disbelief, his entire body trembling from excitement.

"A First Rate Talent!" The words rippled through the crowd like a shockwave, leaving everyone breathless. Such a talent was beyond rare—it was a treasure on par with the family's most sacred heirlooms. Those who possessed a First Rate Talent were destined for greatness, their potential limitless.

As the gate loomed above, its presence a testament to Surya's extraordinary destiny, the Wudi Family stood in stunned silence. The balance of power within the family—and perhaps the world itself—had just shifted.

—

While the rest of the Wudi Family stood in awe of Surya's First Rate Talent, Patriarch Wudi focused his gaze on something far more profound. His sharp, piercing eyes seemed to cut through the very fabric of reality, bypassing secrets and traversing time itself to uncover the mystery hidden within the newborn.

To the Patriarch, the celestial light and the divine gate were mere distractions. What truly captivated him was the soul beneath—a soul that did not belong to this world.

"A reincarnation?" he murmured, his deep, chilling voice barely audible. The words carried the weight of centuries, a testament to his unfathomable cultivation and wisdom.

As someone who had reached the pinnacle of power, the Patriarch possessed the ability to peer into the Samsara Cycle, the endless wheel of birth, death, and rebirth. He could even aid a soul in reincarnation, though the laws of the world forbade him from doing so. This was not the first time he had encountered a reincarnated soul; during his youth, he had met others like Surya.

Yet, despite his experience, this discovery caught his attention. There was something different about this child—something that stirred a rare flicker of curiosity within the Patriarch. His gaze lingered on Surya, his mind already calculating the implications of this revelation.