Sovereign of Stolen Fate

The world was too loud all of a sudden.

Every breath, every shift of fabric, every creak of the wooden walls pressed against Jin Ye's mind, overwhelming his senses. His body felt weak, unfamiliar, as if his very existence had been forced into a skin too small for him.

Memories, both his and not his, clashed violently within him.

One moment, he stood atop Heavenly Sword Peak, his robes drenched in blood, his closest allies sneering down at him.

The next, he lay on damp earth, a boy's weak body curled defensively, fists and feet pounding into his ribs.

"Remember your place, trash."

A jagged rock struck his skull. Pain. Darkness.

His breathing quickened. His hands trembled.

"No."

Jin Ye forced himself to sit up. The motion sent a sharp ache through his ribs, his entire body protesting against him. Weak. Fragile. Vulnerable.

He hated it.

His gaze flickered across the dimly lit room—a small, humble space, patched wooden walls, a rough straw mattress beneath him. The air smelled of old herbs and damp wood. It was nothing like the grand chambers he once commanded.

"I am no longer Qin Tian."

The realization settled like poison in his veins.

His reflection caught his eye in a tarnished bronze mirror hanging on the far wall. A stranger stared back.

His once sharp, imposing features were gone. In their place, a pale, bruised face, younger, softer—but the dark, swollen mark on his temple told a tale of violence and humiliation.

Memories surfaced unbidden—not his own, but now undeniably part of him.

Jin Ye, the village outcast.

Jin Ye, the weakling.

Jin Ye, the talentless.

His blood boiled.

"This is the life I have inherited?"

His fists clenched. No. He refused to accept this fate.

Suddenly, the door creaked open.

A woman rushed in—Lin Xian. His mother.

Her face was lined with exhaustion, but her eyes softened the moment they met his. "Jin Ye!" she whispered, voice breaking with relief. "You're awake!"

She hurried to his side, hands warm as they cupped his face gently.

Jin Ye stiffened. He did not know this woman. And yet, his body reacted differently. The boy whose life he now lived knew her, loved her, feared disappointing her.

A mother's love. A love Qin Tian had never known.

His throat tightened. "Mother…" The word felt foreign, yet undeniably his.

Tears welled in Lin Xian's eyes, but she blinked them away. "You foolish child… You nearly died!" Her fingers brushed lightly over his bruised temple. "What happened? Did Wei Rong…?"

The name sent a bolt of ice-cold fury through Jin Ye's chest.

Wei Rong.

The memories crashed back. The taunts, the laughter, the beating.

"He killed me."

His knuckles turned white. He had been murdered like a dog, his life snuffed out like a candle in the wind, and no one had cared.

Jin Ye's voice was quiet but sharp. "What did they say happened?"

Lin Xian hesitated, guilt shadowing her features. "They said you fell. That it was an accident."

A lie. A convenient excuse.

His lips curled. So this is how the weak are treated? Even death is dismissed.

Lin Xian's fingers trembled against his cheek. "Ye'er, please. Just… forget it. The Wei family is powerful. If you keep pushing—"

"If I keep pushing?"

Jin Ye lifted his gaze to hers, and for the first time, his eyes burned cold. "Mother, do you truly think this will stop?"

Lin Xian flinched.

"They already attacked me once." His voice was low, dangerous. "What makes you think they won't try again?"

Lin Xian was silent.

Jin Ye exhaled, forcing the anger down. He had been given a second chance, but vengeance was not something to rush.

No. Not yet.

Lin Xian pulled him into a careful embrace. "Just rest, my son. Please."

His body tensed instinctively—but he did not push her away.

After a moment, she sighed. "I will bring you something to eat."

She left, closing the door softly behind her.

Jin Ye sat up gingerly

He reached inward, searching for the strength that once burned within him.

But all he found was weakness. His body was frail, his Qi so thin it was barely noticeable. It was a mockery of the power he once wielded.

His breath came slow. Deep. Calculating.

"This is only temporary."

He pressed his palm to his chest, focusing on his core. His spiritual sea should have been vast, endless—but instead, he found only a shallow pond.

Yet, within that pond, there was… something.

Faint. Hidden. Waiting.

He reached for it—and in an instant, the abyss stirred.

A whisper slithered through his mind.

"You have stolen from fate itself… but you are not yet ready to wield it."

Jin Ye's eyes snapped open. His pulse pounded in his ears.

"What was that?"

The sensation faded, but the implication remained.

Something was inside him.

Something that did not belong to this world.

He exhaled slowly, letting a smirk creep across his lips.

"So that power was not a dream."

The heavens may have cast me aside...

But I will carve my own path.

The weight of his new life, his new name, his new weakness pressed against him.

But weakness was temporary.

He would grow. He would reclaim his strength. And when the time was right…

They would pay.