Pain.
That was the first thing Leon felt when consciousness returned to him. His chest burned, not from a wound—but from something deeper, something ancient stirring within his soul. His eyes fluttered open in the stark white hospital room, the dull hum of machines in the background.
But he wasn't the same man who had collapsed on the track field two days ago.
No.
He was Leon Fang—once the Supreme Heir of the Azure Flame Sect, ruler of ten thousand realms, betrayed and slain at the height of his cultivation. And now, reborn in the body of his younger self, in this weak mortal shell, twenty years before his death.
A soft knock came.
"Mr. Fang?" A nurse peeked in, clutching a clipboard. "You're… awake?"
Leon turned to her slowly, the depth in his gaze far beyond what a teenage boy should possess. "Yes," he said simply. "I won't be staying long."
She hesitated. "Your vitals… they were critical yesterday. The doctors said you might not make it."
Leon stood. Muscles that were feeble now responded with unfamiliar firmness. The remnants of his past life's power had begun to anchor themselves into his meridians.
"I'm not someone who dies so easily," he muttered under his breath.
—
Back at the Fang residence, chaos brewed.
"Why is that useless brat still alive?" barked Uncle Gerald Fang, slamming a porcelain teacup to the floor. "He's a stain on the family name!"
"Gerald," interrupted the Fang patriarch. "Be mindful of your words. The boy bears the main bloodline."
"That bloodline is diluted," Gerald sneered. "He faints in gym class! You want him to inherit anything? Hah!"
Just then, the double doors creaked open. Leon stood there, hospital gown replaced by a black jacket, hands in pockets, face calm.
"You're all quite loud," he said flatly.
"You dare walk in here like that?" Gerald stepped forward. "You disrespect your elders now?"
"No," Leon replied. "I just no longer fear them."
Before anyone could react, he stepped forward and struck Gerald across the face with a clean, open-palmed slap. The room fell into stunned silence.
"You—" Gerald's face twisted. "You hit me?!"
Leon’s expression didn’t change. "That was interest. For all the years you made me kneel."
A black sedan pulled up outside the manor. A man in a tailored suit stepped out, holding a silver folder.
"Mr. Leon Fang?" the man asked.
Leon nodded.
"I represent the Ancestral Assets Department. According to the final directive of your late grandfather, you are the primary inheritor of Sky Industries and its affiliated assets. Effective immediately."
You could hear a pin drop in the hall.
The cripple had just become a billionaire.
But Leon wasn’t smiling. He knew wealth would draw wolves.
And in his past life, they came with smiling masks and poisoned daggers.
Not this time.
This time, he would slaughter them before they ever got close.