Chapter 2: The Awakening Within the Manor

The rain continued its endless patter against the window, but inside the Duke’s manor, there was a sense of stillness—a quiet, peaceful façade that seemed to mock the storm raging in Tiān Lán’s soul.

He stood by the large wooden window, staring out into the night. His reflection, pale and unfamiliar, met his gaze. The boy in the glass was young, perhaps twelve at most. His hair was a deep black, falling neatly around his face, and his brown eyes were wide with confusion. But underneath, the fire of an immortal cultivator burned with rage and remembrance.

This body.

This life.

It meant nothing.

His real body, the one he once called his own, had been cast aside. Mu Yiran. Zhao Wusheng. Feng Jiutian. They had taken it all from him—his power, his future, his godhood. His heart ached with the loss of it all, but something more dangerous had taken root in his chest.

Revenge.

The storm outside was nothing compared to the storm he felt inside. The betrayal had left a scar deeper than any sword. Yet, for now, he had to hide. No one in this world knew of his true potential. He was a weak child—no more than a fragile piece in the delicate dance of nobility.

The door to the room creaked open, and a soft voice broke his reverie.

“Young master, are you awake?” It was Xiao Yu, the maid from earlier. She was holding a tray of steaming tea, her expression gentle but concerned.

Tiān Lán turned his gaze towards her. She had been kind, unlike the others in this house, but kindness meant nothing now. He didn’t need pity. He needed strength.

Xiao Yu hesitated for a moment, noticing the odd intensity in his eyes, but she stepped inside nonetheless. "The Duchess has asked me to bring you some tea. She wishes for you to join her for dinner, if you're feeling well enough."

Tiān Lán didn’t respond immediately, his thoughts still swirling with his past life and the cultivation methods locked deep within him. Then, slowly, he stepped back from the window and sat at the low wooden table, motioning for her to place the tray down.

“Tell my mother,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, “that I’ll join her after I finish my meditation.”

Xiao Yu blinked in surprise. "Meditation? But Young Master, your health—"

“I’ll be fine,” he interrupted, his voice colder than the rain outside. “Just leave me.”

She nodded, though her worry was clear in her eyes. “Very well, Young Master.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind her, Tiān Lán’s face hardened. The silence of the room weighed on him, as heavy as the storm. He had no time for pleasantries, for the games of nobility. The real battle lay ahead.

Rising from the table, he moved to the center of the room and closed his eyes. The air seemed to grow thick, charged with an energy that no one else could feel.

The forgotten methods…

He inhaled deeply, focusing all his energy. A faint, almost imperceptible glow began to form around his hands, blue lightning crackling softly, like a distant storm on the horizon. The technique. One of the methods he had learned in his past life—lost to time and erased by those who betrayed him.

He focused on the Rain Lotus Sect's cultivation method, the one he had created—a forbidden technique, meant for only those with the deepest connection to the heavens. As his spiritual energy surged, the room seemed to bend, the air thick with a force he had not felt in centuries.

The thunder rumbled outside, as though responding to his call.

Crack!

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the room, the power of the storm merging with his own cultivation. For a moment, it was as though the universe held its breath. Tiān Lán’s body glowed with ethereal light as he channeled the forces of nature, reconnecting with the storm that had once been his birthright.

When he opened his eyes again, they glowed faintly with the blue storm that surged inside him.

This world may have taken my past, but it cannot take my future.

He would rise again. Stronger. Wiser. More vengeful.

---

The sound of a distant bell rang out from the courtyard. The Mirror Bell. Tiān Lán’s eyes narrowed. Its ringing had been faint but insistent. It was calling to him, and the time was near. He would find the bell, uncover its secrets, and with it, the path to revenge.

---

In the hallway, Xiao Yu stood with her back to the door, peering through the crack. She had heard the strange noises from inside—an energy she couldn’t understand, a power that felt wrong yet familiar. Something about this boy… no, this man who wore a child’s face was different. She had heard rumors about the Duke’s son being sickly and weak, but what she sensed now was something entirely beyond that.

With a shiver, she turned away and headed down the hallway.

Tiān Lán was more than just a child. And the storm was only beginning.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***