NshedRana

In his past life, Zheng Yun was just an ordinary student—weak, powerless, and bound by the chains of mortality. But fate had other plans. He died and was reborn into the Rana World—a realm of endless slaughter, where power was the only law and weakness was a death sentence.

His first 300 years were a nightmare. He suffered, bled, and drowned in agony. Fear became his shadow, pain his closest companion. He was hunted, betrayed, and crushed beneath the boots of the strong. But he did not break. He learned. He adapted. He endured.

By 700 years, the man who once feared death had become a legend of terror. Brutal. Cunning. Manipulative. Pragmatic. His emotions were long dead, his conscience erased by centuries of war and betrayal. He saw through the falsehoods of morality, embracing absolute self-interest. He did not seek justice. He did not seek revenge.

He sought domination.

But fate was not done with him yet.

One day, he was betrayed once more—not by an enemy, but by the very world itself. When he should have ascended beyond mortality, the heavens rejected him. His soul was shattered and cast into the cycle of reincarnation once more.

And when he awoke again…

He was Zheng Yun, once more—a youth at the very start of his journey. But this time, he was different. He remembered everything. The suffering. The betrayals. The power. The truths hidden beyond life and death.

This time, he would not climb step by step. He would seize the world in his grasp.

In the brutal world of Rana, where ancient beasts roam, where cultivators wield heaven-shattering power, and where empires rise and fall in an instant…

A renegade has returned.

One who fears nothing.

One who trusts no one.

One who will burn the heavens if it stands in his way.

Let the world tremble. Let the gods cower. Zheng Yun walks the path of insanity once more.

Renegade Insanity

The sky was painted in the colors of an impending storm, dark clouds twisting and turning, as if the heavens themselves recoiled in terror. Winds screamed through the mountain peaks, carrying whispers of impending doom. On the final path of a shattered mountain, a lone figure stood—his robes soaked in blood, his body battered yet unyielding.

Behind him, thousands emerged from the forest, their weapons gleaming, their magical artifacts humming with suppressed power.

"Zheng Yun! Cursed demon! You have sacrificed thousands—no, millions—to cultivate the Rana Fateṅga! Your path of destruction ends here!"

At their declaration, the man they sought to destroy… laughed.

Not a laugh of madness. Not a laugh of sorrow. It was a laugh of one who had long since left behind the burdens of morality.

"Justice? Righteousness?" Zheng Yun mused, his voice carrying through the storm like a whisper in the ears of the gods. "How amusing. You stand before me, bathed in self-proclaimed virtue, blades sharpened by the blood of those who opposed you. Tell me—how is your justice any different from my cruelty?"

His laughter deepened, resonating through the battlefield like an omen of ruin.

"A child is born, and the world watches with hope. If he is a genius, he is praised. If he is ordinary, he is ignored. But if he is different—if he does not fit within the narrow mold of expectation—he is cast away, beaten, broken. And when he rises from the ashes, sharpened by the very cruelty that created him, they call him a demon. Tell me… does a sword blame the forge for its edge?"

A warrior stepped forward, his fury barely contained. "Enough of your twisted words! Soon, even your voice will be silenced!"

"Then listen well. If my voice must fade, I shall carve my name into eternity itself."

With deliberate grace, he raised his hand. The moment his fingers curled, the air itself fractured. In his grasp, the Rana Fateṅga pulsed, ancient and unstoppable. A murmur of horror spread through the crowd.

"T-That's…" someone gasped, their voice quivering. "The Fateṅga… it still exists?"

"Time is but a river, and I am the storm that bends its course."

His crimson-stained robes billowed, his eyes glowing with something beyond human understanding.

"Once more, I shall walk the Demonic Path."

A cataclysmic force erupted, splitting the heavens and shattering the mountain beneath him.

"Now… both past and future shall tremble."

Rana Clan – Ancestors' Hall

Thick incense coiled through the sacred chamber, drowning the air in an eerie stillness. Lanterns flickered against towering stone tablets, their wavering light barely illuminating the depths of the ancestral hall.

Before the grand altar, Clan Head Bo Yan Rana knelt, his voice steeped in reverence.

"Forefathers, hear my plea. Bestow upon our clan a child who will carry the weight of destiny. A child who will shape the future of the Rana bloodline."

The gathered elders exchanged wary glances. A hush fell over the chamber. Then, at last, a figure stepped forward, his expression unreadable.

"The child has already been born."

The clan head's breath stilled. "His name?"

The messenger hesitated, then spoke.

Low and knowing, curling like smoke, resonating through the sacred hall like the toll of an unseen bell.

"Fate is a chain—cold, unyielding. But chains can be broken."

"Even if time erases me. Even if the heavens curse me. Even if the world itself shatters beneath my feet."

"For the Demonic Path is not chosen—it is walked by those whom the gods have forsaken."

Demon has return to past time