Reborn in the Abyss: The Warrior's Vengeance

The wind that greeted Murong Chen upon his return to the mortal realm was cold—too cold. It wasn't the bite of winter but the chill of a home long lost. His boots crunched against the withered soil of a forgotten battlefield, the sky above choked by grey clouds. Once, this place had been lush, green, filled with life and laughter.

Now, it was nothing but ashes and ghosts.

Chen stood at the edge of what used to be Ironroot Village, a small settlement nestled in the outskirts of the Northern Territory. He had fought tooth and nail to protect this place during the border wars. He still remembered the names of the villagers—their smiles, their gratitude.

Now, only ruins remained.

Burnt homes, collapsed roofs, charred remains of once-thriving fields. The stench of smoke lingered in the air, though the fire had long since died out. Chen knelt by a shattered well, brushing his fingers over its scorched stones. His fist clenched.

"Who did this?" he whispered, though he already knew.

Footsteps crunched behind him.

"You've returned... from death itself."

Chen didn't rise. He recognized the voice—hoarse, aged, yet familiar. He turned slowly to see Old Zhang, the village elder, or what remained of him. His hair had turned completely white, his eyes sunken. He leaned heavily on a walking stick, his frame frail.

"Chen... we thought you were dead," Zhang murmured, tears gathering in his eyes. "They said you betrayed the empire... that you led foreign soldiers against us."

Chen's jaw tightened.

"I was betrayed."

Zhang nodded solemnly. "We knew. The people here never believed their lies. We waited for you... hoped you'd return and bring justice."

A bitter laugh escaped Chen's lips.

"I can't bring back the dead, Zhang."

Zhang's hand trembled. "But you can avenge them."

Chen's gaze swept across the ruined village, his heart a furnace of anger.

"Who did this?" he asked again.

Zhang's eyes dimmed. "Imperial soldiers. Under Commander Jiang Wei."

A storm surged in Chen's chest.

Jiang Wei—the man he once called brother, the man who stood by as Zhao Ren condemned him, as Lin Yue turned her back. And now he had burned the village Chen had sworn to protect.

"Where is he now?" Chen's voice was cold steel.

Zhang hesitated. "He commands the garrison at Blackthorn Fortress, two days' ride south."

Chen rose, his cloak billowing in the wind, Stormbreaker resting across his back like a shadow.

"I'll see him soon enough."

Zhang reached out, gripping Chen's arm.

"They've grown powerful. Corrupt. Many of your old comrades have joined them, thinking you're gone for good."

Chen's eyes burned. "Then I'll remind them who I am."

He turned to leave, but Zhang's voice called out.

"Take this," the old man said, holding out a pendant—a simple jade token etched with Chen's family sigil, tarnished by time.

Chen stared at it, memories flooding back. His mother's smile. His father's proud gaze. His little sister's laughter. He took the pendant, tying it around his neck.

"For them," he whispered.

The road to Blackthorn Fortress was treacherous.

Bandits prowled the forests, imperial patrols scoured the roads, and corruption choked every village. Chen moved like a ghost, avoiding conflict, gathering whispers. News of his "death" still held, but rumors of a vengeful warrior in black armor had begun to spread.

They called him the Shadow of the Abyss.

By the time Chen reached the fortress gates, dusk had fallen. The massive structure loomed before him—stone walls reinforced with steel, towers bristling with archers. Soldiers patrolled the perimeter, their armor gleaming, bearing the crest of Jiang Wei.

Chen didn't hesitate.

He approached the gate, hood drawn low.

"Halt!" a guard barked, leveling his spear. "Identify yourself!"

Chen's hand moved in a blur. The guard's eyes widened as Stormbreaker's hilt pressed against his throat.

"I'm here to speak with Jiang Wei."

The other guards drew weapons, but Chen's gaze stopped them cold—eyes burning with crimson fire, power radiating from his form like a storm barely contained.

One soldier dropped his blade and ran.

Another fell to his knees.

"I said," Chen growled, "bring me Jiang Wei."

Inside the fortress hall, Jiang Wei sat atop a throne of blackened wood, goblet in hand. The man had aged—his once-proud features now bloated with excess, his eyes cold and calculating.

When Chen entered, flanked by trembling guards, silence descended.

Jiang Wei rose slowly.

"Well, well... the dead walks," he sneered.

Chen's gaze never wavered.

"Jiang Wei."

"I should be surprised," Jiang said, circling him. "But I always knew death wouldn't take you easily."

Chen stepped forward. "Why did you burn Ironroot?"

Jiang laughed. "Collateral damage. A village harboring traitors. You should be proud—it took weeks to rebuild after we razed it."

Rage surged. Chen drew Stormbreaker, its blade singing through the air.

"You'll pay for every life lost."

Jiang's own sword came free—a curved, cruel weapon. "Come then, 'Abyssal Wraith.' Let's finish what we started."

They clashed, steel ringing against steel, sparks flying. Chen's strikes were relentless, fueled by fury. Jiang countered with practiced precision, but he was slower, dulled by years of comfort.

"You should have stayed dead," Jiang spat, retreating.

Chen pressed the attack, Stormbreaker cleaving through defenses.

"This is for Ironroot!"

A final blow disarmed Jiang, his sword skittering across the floor.

Chen stood over him, Stormbreaker poised.

"Do it," Jiang hissed. "Finish it."

Chen hesitated.

"Tell me... why did you betray me? I trusted you."

Jiang's smirk was venom. "Because loyalty is weakness. Zhao Ren offered power, land, women. And Lin Yue... she was never yours. She came to me willingly."

Chen's blade trembled.

"You deserve to die," he growled.

But he didn't strike.

Instead, he turned, letting Jiang fall to the ground.

"Your punishment will be to live... watching your empire crumble."

Guards stormed in, weapons raised.

Chen vanished into shadow.