The room was silent.
Too silent.
Even the lazy hum of the ceiling fan had stopped.
Dust motes hung in the sunlight like tiny frozen stars, trembling in the air as if some unseen force had seized control of the entire space.
Rudra sat cross-legged on the floor.
His back was straight.
His eyes were closed.
Both palms rested on his knees.
Purple sparks danced across his fingertips.
Tiny at first.
Weak.
Almost invisible.
But to Rudra, they were more precious than all the wealth he had built in his previous life.
The first thread of spiritual energy.
The first step.
The beginning of everything.
A slow breath escaped his lips.
He guided the strand of energy inward.
The sensation was immediate.
Pain.
Sharp.
Burning.
Like molten iron being poured into his veins.
His ten-year-old body trembled.
Cold sweat formed across his forehead.
The body of a child was far too weak to handle cultivation at this level.
Even if the technique was his own creation.
Even if he had mastered it in his previous life.
His muscles clenched.
The purple strand moved from his fingertips to his wrist.
Then up his arm.
Every inch felt like being torn apart from within.
But Rudra did not flinch.
Pain was familiar.
Pain was honest.
Pain had never betrayed him.
He exhaled slowly.
"Steady…"
The words were barely a whisper.
In his mind, he visualised the spiritual pathways.
Meridians.
Nodes.
Energy gates.
He had mapped the human body in ways modern medicine and ancient cultivation texts had never imagined.
That was why he had reached the peak.
That was why the world had once feared him.
The strand reached his shoulder.
His breathing hitched.
Then it moved downward.
Toward his chest.
Toward the centre of all cultivation.
The dantian.
The room suddenly crackled with static.
Purple lightning flashed across the walls.
The hanging calendar fluttered violently.
A glass on the table shattered.
CRACK!
Rudra's eyes snapped open.
The energy had reached his dantian.
For one terrifying moment, his vision blurred.
His body leaned forward.
A violent cough escaped him.
Blood splattered onto the floor.
His chest burned.
His veins felt as if they would explode.
A weaker mind would have panicked.
A weaker cultivator would have stopped.
Rudra smiled.
This was exactly how it had started in his first life.
Only now—
He had forty years of experience.
He wiped the blood from his lips.
"Again."
He closed his eyes once more.
Another breath.
Another strand.
Another cycle.
This time, the energy moved more smoothly.
The Void Thunder Breathing Art began to stabilise.
Outside the window, clouds slowly gathered.
The sky darkened.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
Nature itself seemed to respond.
The spiritual strand circled his body.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then finally—
It settled.
A tiny whirlpool of purple light formed within his dantian.
Small.
Fragile.
But alive.
Rudra slowly opened his eyes.
A faint purple glow shone in them.
His lips curved into a cold smile.
"Body Tempering Realm."
The first realm.
The absolute foundation.
For ordinary cultivators, reaching this step could take months.
For talented ones, weeks.
For monsters—
days.
For Rudra Desai—
less than an hour.
His young body suddenly felt lighter.
Stronger.
He stood up.
His movements were sharper now.
More controlled.
He clenched his fist.
The air around it crackled faintly.
Not enough to fight serious enemies.
But more than enough to deal with normal humans.
His eyes shifted toward the cracked mirror.
Even his appearance seemed different.
The sharpness in his gaze had deepened.
The aura of a child had begun to fade.
Replacing it was something colder.
Something far more dangerous.
A knock sounded on the door.
Rudra instantly suppressed his aura.
The purple sparks vanished.
His expression softened.
A child again.
"Rudra beta?"
Mrs Mehta's voice came from outside.
"School starts in twenty minutes."
School.
He almost laughed.
In his previous life, school had been where everything began.
The first insult.
The first rival.
The first person who underestimated him.
This time—
It would be different.
"Yes, aunty," he replied calmly.
He grabbed the old school bag from the chair.
As he slung it over his shoulder, something slipped from one of the side pockets.
A folded paper.
He picked it up.
His pupils narrowed.
A newspaper clipping.
Old.
Yellowed at the edges.
A business article.
DESAI GROUP TO HOST CHARITY EDUCATION EVENT THIS WEEK
His heartbeat paused.
Desai Group.
His family.
The first thread had appeared far earlier than expected.
He slowly folded the clipping and slipped it into his pocket.
A cold smile formed.
"So fate moves faster this time."
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The first cultivation step.
The first clue.
The first move.
Everything was aligning.
As he stepped out of the room, the morning sunlight fell across his face.
A ten-year-old boy walked toward school.
But hidden behind those young eyes was a man who had once stood at the top of the world.
And today—
His second rise had truly begun.