Darkness has no sound.There is no air. No body. Only awareness… floating in an endless void.
That was the first thing he felt when he died.
A flash.A noise.Metal.Screams.And then… silence.
"Miss! Miss, the boy is moving!"
A sound tore through the darkness. A whisper of a voice. Then another. Warmth. A crushing weight on his chest. He gasped. Coughed.His lungs, as if they'd never been used before, filled with air like they needed it desperately.
He opened his eyes wide.
A crudely carved wooden ceiling. Stone walls draped with fine red cloth. A folding screen. An oil lamp.No… this wasn't a hospital.
The woman beside his bed, young-faced but haggard, let out a choked sob and hugged him tightly. Her voice trembled:
"Yami… Yami, thank the heavens! You're awake. My boy…"
He blinked.
"Yami?"
"Mom?"
The woman cried even harder.
"Yes, yes! Mommy's here, my son. You had a fever for days, said all kinds of nonsense… but it's over now. You're safe."
It took three days for him to understand what had happened.Three days of silently watching, listening to names, seeing how the servants, the guards, and the woman who called herself his mother treated him.
The boy now called Yami was ten years old. He was the son of a commander in the Qin army. His father had been stationed at a frontier post, leaving his family behind in a small mansion in the city of Zui, at the heart of the kingdom.
And the most shocking part of all…This was the world of Kingdom.Or at least one so similar, it hurt.
He'd heard names like Kou, Qin, Wei, Zhao.He'd seen maps in the family library that matched those from old history books.But this wasn't a dream.
He remembered his previous life: modern Japan, his obsession with Chinese history, his fascination with Kingdom, his absurd death.And now… he had another chance.But in a world where life was worth less than a broken spear.
That night, Yami walked silently through the mansion's stone hallway. The sound of crickets filled the warm air. He stopped at an open window.
He looked up at the starry sky.
"I don't know why I'm here…" he murmured. "But if this is the world I know… I have no other choice."
He clenched his fists. He remembered Ou Ki's words from the old world:
"Great dreams can only be achieved at the cost of countless lives."
If he wanted to survive… if he wanted power…He would have to become someone who could bear that cost.
The next morning, Yami made an unusual request to his mother.
"I want to train with the spear. And the sword. Like the soldiers do."
The woman looked at him, surprised, then concerned.
"But why? You're barely recovering, Yami. Do you want to go to war?"
He lowered his gaze, serious.
"We're already at war. We've been at war our whole lives.I don't want to die without being able to protect you."
He didn't know if those words were his or a mask, but they worked.
The back courtyard was cleared. A city soldier, an old retired veteran, was hired as his instructor.
His name was Gan, and he smelled of sour wine and dry sweat.
"I don't have time for spoiled brats," he said, handing Yami a spear bigger than him. "If you want to play soldier, go carve wooden swords."
Yami didn't answer. He just picked up the spear with both hands. It almost slipped from his grasp. But he didn't let go.
"Start teaching me, or I'll find someone better than you."
Gan stared at him in silence.
Then he smiled with a mix of scorn and respect.
"Alright, kid. Get ready to hate every muscle in your body."
For the next three months, Yami trained without rest.He ran at dawn. Practiced strikes, thrusts, footwork.He failed. Fell. Threw up from exhaustion. But kept going.
At night, he read in the library. Asked the servants about politics. Studied maps of the provinces and army movements.
He couldn't change the past, but he knew what was coming: war, betrayal, conquest.
He had to be ready.
One day, a letter arrived at the mansion.A scroll sealed with black wax.
Yami's mother read it in silence. Her face turned pale.
"Your father… is dead."
Silence.
Yami swallowed hard. Though he'd never seen the man since awakening, the memory of him—stern but just, or so they said—had kept him going.
"Where?"
"The northern frontier… attacked by Zhao. Only twenty of his men survived."
Yami lowered his gaze. He felt something in his chest.Not pain, but a strange rage. Not for the father he didn't know… but for his own powerlessness.
The world waits for no one.And if he didn't become stronger, he'd die as just another forgotten name.
A week later, before the family altar, Yami knelt in front of his father's portrait. He lit the incense. Closed his eyes.
"Father… I never knew you. But I'll use your name as my shield… and as my sword."
He stood. Looked east, toward the kingdom's capital.
"I won't be just another shadow in history.I'll become the blade that carves out Qin's future."