Michael stood atop the city wall, a place that once filled him with wonder. As a child, he would gaze from this very spot, captivated by the bustling city and the high-rail trains weaving through it like metallic serpents. Now, the view only amplified his isolation. The departing trains no longer symbolized adventure, but his own exile from the life he once knew.
For the first time since his rebirth, the full weight of his past lives crashed down upon him—thirty years of struggle, betrayal, and a lonely death. The bitterness was a poison in his veins, with no clear outlet. He replayed the past, searching for his own mistake, but found only the cold reality of his family's abandonment when he was deemed "waste." The only light in his previous life had been his disciple, Zia.
He remembered finding her during a beast attack, a scrappy 12-year-old with fiery eyes, refusing to yield despite her exhaustion. She had told him she was from a small city destroyed by beasts when she was five. That would be seven years from now, he calculated. A new purpose ignited within him: to find her hometown and save her before tragedy struck.
So lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the figure approaching until she was beside him.
Evelyn had come to bridge the chasm between them, but the words stuck in her throat. How does a mother apologize for a betrayal that cost a son his life, even if he was now reborn?
Michael turned, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, heavier than any words.
"Michael… you should come back," she finally managed, the plea sounding hollow even to her.
He looked at her, the woman who once greeted him with warm inquiries about his day. Now, they were strangers. "What is there to come back to?" His voice was flat, laced with sarcasm. "The title of 'young master' of a corrupt family? That holds no value for me anymore."
"I didn't mean it like that," Evelyn implored, her composure cracking. "You are my son. How could any resource be more important than you?"
Michael's face remained a stoic mask. "It doesn't matter. That version of me is dead, and his memories of that 'so-called family' died with him." He turned to leave, but paused, delivering a final, cold message. "At least take good care of your daughter. And tell him," he said, the word dripping with contempt, "to keep your family away from me. If they don't, I won't hesitate to slaughter every last one of them."
The killing intent in his eyes was a physical chill. "This was their only warning. Next time, I take heads."
Evelyn stood frozen, the truth of his words a blade in her heart. She had lost her son, and the man before her looked at her with the eyes of a stranger.
Michael returned to his hotel suite. He was aware it likely belonged to his mother's conglomerate, but he was past caring. Her secrets and reasons were irrelevant. His path was now clear: gain absolute strength, find his friends, and locate Zia. The rest of the world could live or die; it meant nothing to him.
With the system still updating and no quests available, he focused on cultivation. He still had 75 drops of the ancient blood, a massive reservoir of power. While it could propel his cultivation realm, he knew that raw power without combat prowess was worthless. He needed to balance his advancement.
According to the inheritance knowledge unlocked with his bloodline, each realm had a theoretical limit for one's gene level. For the Star Realm, it was 1000—a number most cultivators could never hope to reach. Yet, his bloodline, the Chaotic God and Demon, was anything but ordinary.
"Why is my bloodline so different?" he wondered. The answer likely lay with his parents, but that was a door he had sworn never to open again.
He focused on the supreme cultivation method imprinted in his soul: the Nine Turn Divine Chaotic Art. It was specifically designed to expand one's gene level to the absolute limits permitted by universal law, but it consumed energy at a terrifying rate.
Taking out a vial of purified blood, he consumed a single drop and began the arduous process. Energy flooded his meridians as he guided it through the art's complex pathways. His body underwent subtle, profound transformations, each cell refining and evolving.
Twenty days later, Michael opened his eyes. The training room was thick with a fog of condensed spiritual energy he had exhaled during his session.
"The blood was consumed faster than I anticipated," he mused, a note of surprise in his voice. But the results were undeniable. He felt a world-changing difference in his power.
He summoned his status panel, eager to see the numerical proof of his growth.
[Status Panel]
Name: Michael K.
Age: 25
Cultivation: 1st Stage Galactic Realm
Bloodline: Chaotic God and Demon (25% Activated)
Gene Level: 1300
Cultivation Method: Nine Turn Divine Chaotic Art
Martial Art: Nine-stage Thunder Sword Body (3rd Stage)
Domain: Killing Field (3rd Stage)
Race: Human
[Intelligence 1:]
In 20 days, a new inheritance space will open 150 km from Ravine City. It will remain undetected for 20 days. Contains 20 drops of dragon blood for partial bloodline activation.
[System Update:]
16 days remaining.
A satisfied smile touched his lips. He had shattered the Galactic Realm and far exceeded the normal gene limit for his previous stage. The path was clear, and he was walking it alone, just as he preferred.