Sovereign of Stolen Fate

Pain.

Jin Ye's breath came ragged as he sat cross-legged on the rough wooden floor, his frail body trembling from the effort of simply trying to draw in Qi. His meridians were weak. His flesh was fragile. His strength—laughable.

A lifetime ago, he had been Qin Tian, the Heavenly Sword Sect's rising legend. With a flick of his fingers, he could summon sword intent that could cleave mountains. His enemies had feared his name.

Now, he couldn't even pull a thread of Qi through his meridians without feeling like his insides were being torn apart.

His hands clenched into fists.

"I refuse to accept this."

Sweat dripped from his brow as he focused inward.

His spiritual core was pathetic, a mere puddle where once an ocean raged. But deep beneath the weak remnants of this body's former self, something else lingered.

Something ancient.

He reached for it—only to be met with resistance.

The moment he attempted to guide the flickering ember of Qi through his veins, his meridians seized in protest. A sharp pain shot through his chest, his vision momentarily whiting out.

His body was rejecting him.

His muscles locked, his breath hitched, and his entire being trembled under the weight of its own weakness.

"If I had my past strength, this would be nothing!"

But that was the point, wasn't it?

He had lost everything.

The power he once wielded? Gone.

The respect he commanded? Erased.

The life he had built? Betrayed.

And for what?

For Wu Han's greed.

For Ling Xue's deception.

For blind faith in bonds that never truly existed.

A familiar rage began to rise in his chest.

"No. They may have cast me aside, but I will not remain here. I will rise again."

But first, he had to overcome this body.

His grip tightened, fingernails biting into his palm. "If my meridians are weak… then I will forge them anew."

He focused again, this time not forcing the energy through, but guiding it carefully, like threading a needle through fragile silk.

Slowly. Gently. Control over brute force.

His core flickered.

Then—a single thread of Qi moved.

It was the faintest success, barely a whisper of what he once commanded, but it was enough.

Jin Ye's eyes snapped open.

A smirk curled on his lips.

"There you are."

As soon as he let out his breath, a whisper crawled into his mind.

"You have taken your first step."

Jin Ye's breath hitched.

The voice.

It was the same presence he had felt when the abyss swallowed him. When he should have perished entirely.

"Who are you?"

Silence. Then—

"You are no longer bound by the laws of this world. You have inherited something greater… but it must be claimed, not given."

"Your power will not be cultivated. It will be stolen."

The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

"Stolen?"

Qin Tian—no, Jin Ye—had once been a cultivator who mastered sword arts, refined his body through years of discipline.

But this power—this was something else.

Not something honed through meditation. Not something nurtured over decades.

Something taken. Something consumed.

He exhaled sharply, gripping his knee. The implications were dangerous.

"If my strength no longer follows the path of conventional cultivation… then how do I use it?"

But the voice had already faded.

Leaving him with only questions and potential.

A thrill ran through him.

This… this was a weapon.

And he would learn how to wield it.

Jin Ye exhaled, his breath evening out. He needed to test himself further.

A single thread of Qi was not enough.

He extended his senses, trying to manipulate that sliver of power once more, feeling it like a tiny ember caught in the wind. He let it settle into his dantian, then, carefully, he directed it toward his right palm.

"Just a little more…"

For a brief moment, the Qi obeyed.

A tingling sensation spread across his palm, faint but present. He grinned.

But then—

A sharp recoil.

His vision blurred as a sudden backlash ripped through his meridians, sending him reeling backward. His body convulsed as pain lanced through his limbs. It felt like ice and fire clashing within his veins, two incompatible forces trying to coexist but failing miserably.

He collapsed onto his hands and knees, gasping.

"Damn it… What is wrong with this power?"

Then he heard it again.

That whisper.

"You are not yet ready to wield what is stolen."

Jin Ye gritted his teeth, sweat trickling down his jaw. So even now, I am being tested?

Fine. He would play by its rules—for now.

But he was no fool.

"If I can steal power… then that means someone out there has what I need."

And he already knew who his first target would be.

The wooden door creaked open.

Jin Ye glanced up just as his mother, Lin Xian, stepped in. The relief in her eyes was evident, but so was the hesitation.

"You should still be resting," she murmured, setting down a bowl of warm broth beside him. "Your body needs time to recover."

Jin Ye exhaled slowly. She was right. His body was still recovering from Wei Rong's beating. The very thought of that smug bastard sent a slow, simmering burn through his chest.

But he did not let it show.

Instead, he took the bowl with a small nod. "Thank you, Mother."

She froze.

The words had come so naturally to him, yet… to Jin Ye, the original boy, he had rarely spoken them.

Lin Xian's expression softened, and she gave him a gentle smile, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "You… really scared me, you know."

Jin Ye stared at her for a moment, then gave a small, genuine nod.

"I am no longer just Qin Tian."

"This woman is my mother now. And I will protect her."

His fingers tightened around the wooden bowl. But first… I need to prove I am no longer weak.

A Reckoning Approaches

Jin Ye finished his meal in silence, his thoughts consumed by Wei Rong.

The one who had beaten him to death.

The one who had walked away, thinking he had won.

"You made a mistake, Wei Rong."

"You let me live."

A slow smirk tugged at his lips.

Tomorrow, he would put his new power to the test.

And Wei Rong would be the first to realize...

The weakling they thought they had killed was already returning.