The world had once knelt before him,

Empires had risen and fallen at his command.

He had crushed kings, shattered gods, and united a world under one banner.

His banner.

Yet, at the peak of it all, he had refused divinity.

He rejected the heavens, choosing mortality over ascension.

And so, in the end, he died.

Pain was his first greeting in this new world.

Blinding, searing pain that coursed through unfamiliar meridians—channels where once flowed the purest mana in all of Latvaria. His body felt foreign—weak, fragile, different from the vessel that had once carried the weight of an empire on its shoulders.

His breath came in ragged gasps as his fingers twitched weakly against rough fabric. The metallic scent of blood filled his nose, mingling with the musty odor of poverty and decay.

He opened his eyes to darkness. A damp wooden ceiling greeted him, adorned only by the faint flicker of candlelight and the shadows it cast. The rough texture of a straw mattress beneath him was nothing like the silk and down that had once cushioned the Greatest Emperor of Latvaria.

This isn't my palace.

Was this death? No—death was a familiar adversary. He had crossed its threshold and returned before. This was something else entirely.

As he stirred, his body ached with the unfamiliar weight of weakness. Exhaustion pressed down on him like chains of celestial iron. His limbs were frail, responding sluggishly to his commands. His head pounded with each heartbeat, every movement intensifying the pain.

"Where...?" he muttered to himself, his voice weak and unfamiliar.

Standing required effort that once would have been beneath his notice. He groaned as muscles protested. Shabby—that was the only word for this body. His movements were stiff and clumsy, nothing like the graceful warrior who had once danced through battlefields strewn with the corpses of gods.

"Well, this certainly isn't Latvaria..." He squinted at his surroundings—a small, dingy room with crude furnishings and walls that barely kept out the elements. "And I'm not dead either. I know what death feels like."

He paused, considering. He'd been to the realm of death before. He'd crossed through death's veil and back again. But this—this wasn't that place.

Then a jolt ran through his skull.

Pain, sharp and sudden, like a blade of pure energy slicing through his mind.

His vision blurred as a strange sensation surged through his brain, making his head throb in rhythm with his racing heart. A translucent screen materialized before him, hovering in the air and blocking his view of the shabby room.

[Status Window]

Name: Edward Reinhart(Tae-Won)

Age: ??? (Transmigrated)

Race: Human (?)

Titles: Strongest Under the Heavens, The Chosen One, Greatest Emperor of Latvaria, Godslayer, Demonslayer, Ally of the Dragon

Affiliation: Latvarian Empire (Former)

Status: [Transmigration Complete]

[Previous Attributes]

Strength: [Unmeasurable]

Agility: [Unmeasurable]

Durability: [Unmeasurable]

Mana: [Unmeasurable]

Spirit Energy: [Unmeasurable]

[Past Life Feats]

Vanquished the Demon King in single combat.

Slain multiple gods, earning the wrath of the pantheon.

Ruled Latvaria unchallenged for decades.

Wielded the Divine Blade Azrathiel, lost upon his death.

Made a pact with the Dragon Sovereign, gaining the title Ally of the Dragon.

[Welcome to Murim. Survive and conquer as you always have, great warrior.]

He blinked, the words burning into his mind like brands. His jaw clenched as understanding dawned.

"Just when I think I've gotten a break, huh?" he muttered bitterly, a humorless smile touching his lips. "Die honorably once, and this is the thanks I get. Perfect."

This world, Murim—it definitely wasn't Latvaria. There was no doubt about that. But who had sent him here? For what purpose?

"What is this?" he demanded of the empty air. "What manner of magic is this window? Who or what is controlling it?"

Silence stretched for a moment before another translucent window materialized:

[I am what you might call a System. A guide for your journey in this new world.]

Edward scowled. "A guide? I never asked for a guide. I've conquered continents without handholding, thank you very much. Why was I brought here?"

[That information is currently unavailable.]

"Unavailable? Or you're simply not permitted to tell me?" His eyes narrowed. The gods of his world couldn't have done this—he'd ensured that. Something else was at play here, something beyond even their reach.

[That information is currently unavailable.]

He sighed dramatically, throwing his hands up. "Oh, marvelous. So helpful. I'm so glad we had this talk." His sarcasm was sharp enough to cut stone. "Whoever—or whatever—programmed you clearly attended the same 'how to be uselessly cryptic' academy as the oracles back home."

[Would you like to know more about your current situation instead?]

"Fine. Then tell me: where exactly am I? What is this 'Murim'? What are the laws that govern this world? I need to understand what I'm dealing with."

[Murim is a world governed by martial strength and Qi cultivation. Unlike your previous world which operated on mana, this world's power comes from Qi—the fundamental energy present in all living beings.]

Edward frowned. "Qi? I've heard of similar concepts in some of the outlying regions of Latvaria, but they were primitive compared to our advanced mana manipulation." He paused, a thought occurring to him. "Can Qi be cultivated like mana? Are the principles similar?"

[Not quite. While mana in your world was an external force drawn inward and shaped by will, Qi exists within all living things and must be awakened, refined, and expanded. The methodology differs significantly.]

"Interesting." Edward rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So I'm basically starting from scratch. Wonderful."

[In Murim, Qi cultivation is the path to immortality. Cultivators refine their bodies, strengthen their meridians, and eventually transcend mortality to ascend to higher realms.]

This caught his attention. "Higher realms? You mean like godhood?"

[Information on cosmic structure is limited at your current level. Would you like to know more about your current capabilities instead?]

Edward considered this. Practical knowledge first, then. Understanding his own limitations and strengths would be the foundation for everything else.

"What capabilities does this body possess?"

Edward—no, Tae-Won now, he reminded himself—looked down at his body. Young, probably around sixteen or seventeen, dressed in tattered clothes. So this was his new vessel—a street rat, by the looks of it. A far cry from the imperial body he'd spent centuries perfecting.

"System," he commanded, feeling the word strange on his tongue. "Tell me more about this body. Is it special?"

The System's window materialized once more:

[Would you like to learn about this body's constitution?]

Tae-Won frowned. "Constitution? Explain this concept."

[Body Constitution defines one's innate potential and affinity for certain cultivation paths. Some constitutions are common, others rare. They determine how one interacts with Qi and the cultivation ceiling one can potentially reach.]

That made sense. In Latvaria, there had been similar concepts—bloodline talents, ancestral blessings, genetic mutations. Different terms, similar principles.

"What is this body's constitution then?"

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

The screen flickered, then displayed a response:

[Analyzing…]

[Body Constitution: Azure Phoenix Meridians]

[Rare constitution that allows refined absorption and circulation of Qi better than other constitutions. Enhances strength and agility. Difficult early cultivation but exceptional control once mastered. Cultivation bottlenecks are far less severe and common but require greater Qi purity.]

Tae-Won's lips curved into a smile that would have sent shivers down the spines of his old enemies. A phoenix constitution... so it's rare but not unheard of. With proper cultivation, this could become a formidable weapon indeed.

"So, can this body can sense Qi? How do I learn that ability?"

[Qi Sense becomes available after initial cultivation breakthrough. Currently, your meridians are dormant.]

"What I'm hearing is that I need to start cultivating immediately," Tae-Won said, straightening his posture despite the pain it caused. "System, how do I begin cultivating? Tell me the process."

[Basic Qi Cultivation Method detected. Would you like to access it?]

"Yes. Show me how to awaken these supposedly impressive meridians."

Tae-Won settled into a cross-legged position on the floor, adopting a posture that felt both foreign and strangely familiar. The cultivation method appeared in his mind—a simple breathing exercise meant for beginners. Nothing like the advanced techniques he had mastered in his past life, but it would have to do as a starting point.

"This looks suspiciously like meditation," he muttered. "If I find out I've been reincarnated into some peaceful monk society, I'm going to be very disappointed."

He closed his eyes and began to breathe rhythmically, drawing air deep into his lungs and feeling for the energy that should flow with it. In... out... in... out...

At first, nothing happened. The Qi remained stagnant in his meridians, refusing to move to his commands. He frowned, concentrating harder, applying more of his formidable will. Still nothing.

"Come on," he growled in frustration. "I once commanded enough mana to level mountains. This can't be that different."

Then he remembered—this wasn't mana. The principles would be different, perhaps even opposite in some cases.

Rather than forcing his will upon the energy as he would have done with mana, he tried to coax it gently, to guide rather than command. Slowly, ever so slowly, he felt something stir within him. A warmth began to spread from his dantian—the energy center below his navel that corresponded roughly to what his old world had called the soul nexus.

"That's it," he whispered, a smile forming. "Come to papa..."

Suddenly, a searing pain shot through his meridians like liquid fire. His eyes flew open as he gasped, his body rigid with agony.

"WHAT THE—" he choked, curling inward as the pain intensified. "System! What's happening?"

[Warning: Meridian damage detected. Azure Phoenix Meridians are sensitive to impurities during initial cultivation.]

Tae-Won clenched his teeth against the pain, refusing to cry out. Pain was an old friend, after all. "Then what should I do?" he demanded, gasping between words. "This feels like that time I tried drinking lava on a dare."

[Suggestion: Purify external Qi before absorption. Azure Phoenix Meridians excel at refinement but require pure input.]

He nodded, understanding dawning. This body's constitution wasn't meant for brute force cultivation—it required finesse, precision, perhaps even a certain artistry that his warrior's approach had ignored.

"So instead of being a battering ram, I need to be a filter," he muttered. "Fine. Let's try it your way."

Taking another deep breath, he extended his senses outward, feeling for the ambient Qi in the air around him. At first, he felt nothing—just the damp, stale air of the room and the distant sounds of the slums beyond.

"Come on, focus," he urged himself. "I didn't conquer half a continent by giving up at the first hurdle."

He closed his eyes again, emptying his mind of frustration and expectation. Slowly, as if emerging from fog, he began to perceive... something. Not quite visible, not quite tangible, but present nonetheless. The ambient Qi of the world around him.

Most of it was indeed impure, tainted with the grime and despair of the slums. But here and there, he could sense tiny motes of pure energy—likely remnants of some natural phenomenon or distant cultivation resources.

"There you are," he whispered, his focus narrowing with predatory intensity.

With careful concentration, he drew only those pure particles inward, filtering out the rest as one might strain gold from river silt. The sensation changed immediately. Instead of pain, he felt a cool, refreshing energy flowing through his meridians like spring water. His dantian began to warm pleasantly, like embers catching fire.

[Congratulations! You have successfully begun cultivation.]

[Current Realm: Body Refinement Stage 1]

[Cultivation Progress: 0.8%]

A smile spread across Tae-Won's face. It wasn't much—barely a drop in what would need to be an ocean—but it was a start. He could feel the potential of these Azure Phoenix Meridians—their capacity for precise control, for refinement beyond what most cultivators could achieve. This body might be weak now, but its ceiling was high. Very high.

"System," he said with newfound confidence. "Can I now sense Qi in my surroundings?"

[Qi Sense partially activated. Range: 10 paces. Clarity: Low.]

Tae-Won closed his eyes again, this time focusing outward rather than inward. There—he could feel it now. Faint signatures of energy around him, like distant candlelight in fog. The walls of the room had almost none, dead and inert. But beyond them, moving points of light—people, he assumed, each with their own reservoir of Qi, however dormant or active it might be.

"This," he said with satisfaction, "could be useful."

"System," Tae-Won said, rising to his feet with newfound grace despite his minimal Qi reserves. "Tell me about the martial arts or fighting styles of this world."

[In Murim, combat techniques are primarily categorized as Internal and External. Internal techniques focus on Qi circulation and enhancement, while External techniques emphasize physical movements and applications.]

[Common combat categories include:]

[- Sword Arts: Most prestigious and widely practiced]

[- Fist Arts: Ranging from simple to profound]

[- Weapon Arts: Any object infused with Qi can become a weapon in Murim]

[- Body Cultivation: Techniques to strengthen the physical vessel]

[- Mental Cultivation: Techniques to enhance perception and mental fortitude]

Tae-Won considered this information. "Is it possible to implement martial styles from my previous world here?"

[Accessing user information...]

[Analysis: Integration of previous world's martial techniques is theoretically possible. However, this body's current capacity is insufficient to handle most high-level techniques from Latvaria.]

Tae-Won snorted. "I know that. But for fighting style, isn't it best to implement what I already know? It's not like I was reborn into a noble's house with access to proper techniques right off the bat."

[Correct. Adaptation of familiar combat principles to this world's Qi system would be efficient. Caution advised regarding energy consumption.]

"Good." Tae-Won nodded to himself. "I need to gather information about this world. Where can I find knowledge?"

[Basic information can be found in public libraries, marketplaces, or from local storytellers. More advanced knowledge is typically guarded by sects and clans.]

"Sects and clans, of course," Tae-Won sighed. "It's never just freely available, is it? Always some exclusive club holding all the good techniques." He shook his head and headed for the door. "Time to see what this world has to offer."

The room had served its purpose, but he needed more—knowledge, resources, power. Always power.

The streets outside were chaotic and filthy, a labyrinth of poverty that reminded him of the outer districts of Latvaria's capital before his reforms. People in rags hurried about their business, keeping their eyes down and their profiles low. The occasional well-dressed individual walked by, surrounded by guards with visible Qi auras—cultivators, no doubt.

With his newly awakened Qi sense, Tae-Won could perceive the energy signatures of those around him, though dimly. The ordinary residents of the slum had tiny, dormant pools of Qi—untapped potential that would likely remain so for their entire lives. The occasional cultivator, by contrast, shone like a beacon to his senses, their Qi refined and purposeful.

"How inefficient," he muttered, watching a particularly bright signature move through the crowd, the masses parting instinctively before its owner. "In Latvaria, we trained every citizen in basic mana manipulation. Wasting potential like this would have been criminal."

He made his way through the slums, following vague directions he'd overheard toward what seemed to be a public gathering place. Perhaps there, he could learn more about this world without drawing attention.

As he turned a corner, he noticed a commotion down a narrow alley. A group of children in tattered clothes were cowering before five young men in elegant blue robes. One child, a thin boy who couldn't have been more than twelve, stood at the front, his arms spread as if to shield the others.

"Please, masters," the boy was saying, his voice steady despite his obvious fear. "We have nothing worth taking."

The tallest of the robed youths laughed, his hand resting casually on an ornate sword hilt. "Nothing? Then what about that space in the abandoned mill you rats have claimed? Jin Clan needs that location."

With his Qi sense, Tae-Won could feel the disparity in power. The robed youths—disciples of some clan, he assumed—had significant Qi reserves, though poorly refined. They were like overfilled wineskins, ready to burst at the seams. The children, by contrast, had barely any Qi at all, just the natural amount any living being possessed.

Tae-Won observed the scene dispassionately. Not his problem. He needed to focus on his own development first. Turning away, he continued walking. "Not my circus, not my monkeys," he muttered.

Suddenly, a translucent window appeared before him.

[Quest Alert: First Blood]

[Defeat the Jin Clan disciples to establish your presence in Murim]

[Reward: 3 Basic Combat Techniques, 1 Intermediate Combat Technique]

[Failure: Possible death]

[Accept? Y/N]

[System Function: Technique Analysis Ready]

[Can analyze and store enemy martial techniques during combat]

[Analysis time varies based on technique complexity]

Tae-Won's eyebrows rose slightly. "Combat techniques as a reward? Interesting." He glanced back at the confrontation, assessing. "But it's a risk. I can't gauge their capabilities yet, and confronting them could mean death. I think I'll ignore this for now and mind my business."

He kept walking, leaving the alley and its troubles behind. The sound of a slap echoed behind him, followed by a child's cry. He didn't turn back.

"Hey, slum rat! Wait up!"

Tae-Won ignored the call, continuing on his path.

"HEY! DIRTY BASTARD! I'M TALKING TO YOU!"

Tae-Won stopped abruptly. His back stiffened.

"Me?" he asked quietly, still not turning around. "Are you addressing me?"

"Who else, DIRTY BASTARD?"

Tae-Won remained silent for a long moment. Then he turned, slowly, deliberately, his eyes cold as the void between stars.

"What did you call me?" His voice was soft, almost gentle.

The Jin Clan disciple—the same tall youth who had been harassing the children—sneered at him, oblivious to the danger. "Huh? Are you mute as well as deaf? You dirty, smelly punk. Where do you think you're going?"

"I said," Tae-Won repeated, each word dropping like ice, "what the fuck did you call me?"

There was one thing that Tae-Won despised being called above all else: Dirty.

In his previous life as Edward Reinhart, even his enemies wouldn't dare use such language. The man had fifteen personal attendants just to ensure his bathwater was precisely the right temperature. During the Siege of Mithral, he'd delayed a counterattack by three hours because his ceremonial armor needed a final polish.

The Jin Clan disciple took Tae-Won's silence as fear. "What's wrong? Did your slum education not teach you what 'dirty' means?" He turned to his friends. "Maybe he needs a demonstration. Should we show him the local gutter up close?"

Tae-Won stared at the Jin Clan disciple, his eyes cold as the void between stars. He whispered, "System, I'll accept it."

"Huh? What was that?" the disciple asked, leaning forward mockingly.

Tae-Won's gaze never wavered as he spoke clearly, "Accept quest."

There was a flash—imperceptible to anyone but him—as the System acknowledged his decision.