"Centuries of cultivation… and in the end, all I could achieve was a mere Golden Core. How laughable. A lifetime spent chasing immortality, only to realize I was nothing—a speck of dust in the vast cosmos. Perhaps my junior brother was right. Perhaps I should have abandoned this path and lived freely instead of wasting my years in endless pursuit of the impossible."

  Lying on his deathbed, Mo Shen gazed at the heavens, wondering what could have been—if only he had possessed the talent to shake the world. If only fate had been kinder. But in that moment, as regret gnawed at his soul, something within him snapped.

  No.

  He would not accept this. He would not die a forgotten name, a failure buried in the sands of time. With every ounce of his will, he swore—he would never falter, never break. Even if Yama himself came to claim his soul, he would fight back.

  A strange sensation crept through his body. The cold tendrils of death slithered through his meridians, consuming him inch by inch. But… since when could he feel death energy? His fading consciousness flickered with realization. If he could feel it, then he could resist it.

  As his life force drained away, his defiance burned brighter. He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as the trickle of life slipping from him slowed. Then slowed more. Then—stopped.

  A roar tore from his throat. He would not die. Not as a failure, not as a forgotten name. With a final surge of defiance, he expelled the invading death energy, his body trembling on the edge of oblivion.

  "I will dominate this world! Hero or monster—it doesn't matter! If there is a heaven, listen to me! I will be reborn… and I will become the greatest Monster Incarnate to ever live!"

  #

  Meanwhile, an old man sat fishing by the Yellow Springs, his weathered hands steady as he cast his line into the still, murky waters. Suddenly, a violent gust tore through the air, followed by a massive surge that sent ripples racing across the river.

  His eyes widened in shock. Boom! The land trembled, the waves rising with unnatural force. Something had changed.

  Clutching his small boat, he barely had time to brace himself before it overturned, sending him crashing into the water. Spluttering, he clung to the wooden hull, his mind racing.

  "A once-in-a-million-years prodigy has emerged…!" he gasped, his voice a mixture of awe and disbelief.

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  To comprehend one’s Dao was no simple feat—it was a destiny granted to the heavens' chosen few. And yet… something was amiss.

  "Why is his life force so weak?"

  A frown creased his wrinkled face as he stared into the distance. Something beyond mortal understanding was unfolding.

  #

  Mo Shen slowly opened his eyes, gazing at the drifting clouds above. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he lifted his frail, wrinkled hands, the weight of time pressing down on him. His once-vibrant hair, now stark white, whispered a cruel truth—perhaps nothing had changed. Perhaps he was still destined to be weak.

  Another sigh. Was this truly his second chance, or just another cruel joke?

  Before he could dwell on the thought, an eager voice broke through his daze.

  "Grandpa! Grandpa! You’re awake!"

  A small figure rushed toward him—Liu Fei. The granddaughter he had adopted out of pity, orphaned too young to remember her parents. Her eyes shone with innocent relief, oblivious to the truth: the man she had called grandfather was gone. He, Mo Shen, now inhabited this frail shell.

  Suppressing the strange emotions swelling within him, he exhaled slowly and pushed himself up with a groan. He reached out and ruffled her hair, a rare flicker of warmth in his weary heart. Then, step by step, he made his way outside.

  The moment he tried to circulate qi through his meridians, his entire body stiffened. Something was wrong.

  Or rather… something was missing.

  His qi channels—they weren’t there.

  His spirit root—gone.

  A hollow, sinking feeling twisted in his gut. "At least my previous body had a spirit root… but this one has nothing!"

  Despair threatened to consume him, but just as he was about to curse his fate, his breath hitched. He felt something.

  His eyes widened in disbelief. A core.

  How?

  A deafening crack of thunder roared in his ears as the realization struck. "I have no qi channels. No spirit root. But I have a core?"

  It was impossible. Spirit roots were the foundation of cultivation, the conductors of qi. Without them, how could he cultivate? How could he nourish his body?

  Then, a chilling thought surfaced. There was only one explanation.

  A demonic bloodline.

  His pulse pounded. The previous owner of this body had never sensed it, likely due to his lack of spiritual awareness. But Mo Shen could. His mind raced through every possibility, every implication—only those with the highest tier of demonic lineage, the supreme bloodline, could awaken it without cultivation.

  Heart hammering, he checked his body for abnormalities. Then, in the dim reflection of a nearby water basin, he saw them—

  Two glowing, crimson eyes staring back at him.

  He gasped. His fate had changed.

  But was it a blessing?

  Or a curse?