The first thing he felt was pain.
Not sharp. Not sudden.
Heavy.
Like his body had been beaten for days.
When he opened his eyes, he was staring at a ceiling carved with black dragon patterns.
Silk curtains. Gold thread. Expensive incense burning nearby.
This wasn't where he died.
He sat up immediately.
Memories that weren't his flooded in.
Name: Kael Viremont
Status: Heir of the Viremont Clan
Reputation: Arrogant. Cruel. Useless.
Kael froze.
The Viremont Clan.
His expression darkened.
In the novel he had read before dying, the Viremont Clan was the main villain faction in the first arc.
And their heir?
A disposable antagonist.
Dead before chapter 120.
Executed publicly.
Clan destroyed.
And now—
He was that heir.
Footsteps approached quickly.
The door opened.
A young maid rushed in.
"Young Master! You finally woke up!"
Kael looked at her calmly.
"When was I unconscious?"
"For three days. After the duel…"
Duel.
Memory returned.
Kael Viremont had challenged the empire's rising genius — and was defeated in public.
Humiliated.
His cultivation crippled temporarily.
Laughed at.
The beginning of his downfall.
Kael swung his legs off the bed.
"Bring me a mirror."
The maid hesitated but obeyed.
He studied his reflection.
Sharp features. Pale skin. Eyes that carried natural arrogance.
Handsome.
But weak.
He closed his eyes briefly and checked his meridians.
Foundation Realm Early.
Unstable.
Damaged from reckless use.
No wonder the original Kael died easily.
He stood up slowly.
"Prepare my training chamber."
The maid blinked. "Young Master… the elders said you should rest."
Kael looked at her.
"I didn't ask what they said."
She bowed immediately.
"Yes."
As the door closed, Kael walked toward the window.
Outside, the Viremont estate stretched across half the western district.
Massive.
Powerful.
Feared.
And doomed.
He remembered everything.
Three years from now:
The empire's protagonist would rise.
The Viremont Clan would be accused of treason.
Internal betrayal.
Public execution.
Kael's lips curved slightly.
"Three years is enough."
He was not the original Kael.
He did not care about pride.
He did not care about public image.
He cared about survival.
And power.
If this world followed the novel's structure, then the protagonist was already gathering allies.
Which meant Kael needed to move first.
An hour later, Kael entered the underground training chamber.
The door sealed behind him.
He sat cross-legged and began circulating energy.
His meridians hurt.
But he did not stop.
He did not force reckless bursts like the original Kael.
He circulated slowly.
Efficiently.
Optimizing flow.
After two hours, sweat covered his back.
The instability decreased.
He opened his eyes.
Foundation Early.
But stable now.
Better than before.
A memory surfaced.
The Viremont Clan possessed a forbidden blood technique.
The original Kael never mastered it.
Too impatient.
Too arrogant.
Kael stood up.
"Bring me the Blood Archive," he ordered the guard outside.
The guard stiffened.
"Young Master… that technique is restricted."
Kael didn't raise his voice.
"I am the heir."
The guard bowed.
"Yes."
In a hidden chamber beneath the estate, Kael stood before a stone altar.
Ancient script covered its surface.
This was the Viremont Clan's core inheritance.
Blood Devouring Art.
Dangerous.
Painful.
Unstable.
But powerful.
In the novel, the protagonist later stole this and refined it better.
Kael placed his hand on the altar.
"Then I'll refine it first."
Blood energy surged through his arm.
Pain shot through his veins.
He did not scream.
He guided it.
Controlled it.
Not like the original Kael who forced dominance.
He merged it gradually with his circulation.
The energy resisted.
He suppressed it calmly.
Hours passed.
When he opened his eyes again, they were darker.
More focused.
The Blood Devouring Art had begun integration.
Not mastered.
But initiated.
Kael stood slowly.
He looked at his palm.
He felt it.
If he killed someone and absorbed their blood essence, his cultivation would grow.
The novel's protagonist used righteousness.
Kael would use efficiency.
He walked toward the exit.
"Prepare a carriage," he ordered.
"Where to, Young Master?"
Kael's expression remained calm.
"To visit the family that laughed the loudest at my duel."
Three years until destruction.
He would not wait.
He would not play the villain role.
If this world wanted a tyrant—
He would become one properly.