Han Li died the way he had lived—quietly, without witnesses, and without complaint.
There was no dramatic final battle, no heroic sacrifice, no last words whispered to the wind. The blade had gone in smoothly, as it always did. His final target—a minister who smiled too much and slept too deeply—never even opened his eyes.
By the time Han Li stepped out of the courtyard, the moon was already sinking, and so was he.
Not from poison.
Not from betrayal.
Not from regret.
Just… exhaustion.
His body finally refused to move.
Han Li leaned against a cold stone wall, breath shallow, fingers numb. He had trained since childhood. Killed since adolescence. Survived ambushes, wars, internal purges, and winters so cruel they froze blood mid-spray.
But no one trained him for the day his strength would simply run out.
So this is it, he thought distantly.
There was no fear. No sadness. Just a strange relief, like setting down a burden he had carried for too long.
His vision dimmed.
And the world ended.
—
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The sound was irritating.
Han Li frowned.
He opened his eyes—and immediately closed them again.
Too bright.
Heaven?
Hell?
Neither smelled like this.
He opened his eyes once more, slower this time.
White ceiling. Perfectly smooth. No wooden beams. No hanging lanterns. No mold, no cracks, no faint scent of blood or incense.
Instead, the air smelled… clean. Artificially clean.
Han Li turned his head.
A thin metal stand held a transparent bag of clear liquid dripping into a tube. The tube disappeared beneath a blanket covering his body.
Blanket.
His fingers twitched.
They felt… light.
I should be dead.
He pushed himself up slightly—and froze.
The body responded instantly. No stiffness. No old scars pulling at his muscles. No pain blooming from joints that had been broken and reset too many times.
His heart began to beat faster.
The room came into focus.
Strange machines. A monitor with moving lines. A small screen displaying numbers he couldn't understand. A window with glass so clear it looked unreal.
Han Li stared.
"…What kind of sect is this?"
The door slid open with a soft mechanical sound.
Han Li nearly attacked.
A woman in white walked in, holding a clipboard. Her hair was tied neatly. No killing intent. No cultivation aura. No weapon.
She stopped when she saw his eyes open.
"Oh! You're awake!" she said brightly. "Can you hear me?"
Her accent was unfamiliar. Her clothes were bizarre. The tone—too cheerful for someone standing near a corpse.
Han Li instinctively checked his dantian.
Nothing.
No internal energy. No circulation. No familiar warmth.
Panic flickered—for half a second.
Then it died.
Calm down, he told himself. Panicking never helped anyone survive.
The woman waved a hand in front of his face. "Hello? Sir?"
Sir?
Han Li slowly opened his mouth.
His voice came out hoarse. "Where… is this?"
The woman smiled. "City General Hospital. You collapsed on the street. You're lucky—another hour and things could've gone very badly."
Hospital.
Han Li repeated the word in his mind.
It meant nothing.
He looked down at himself.
Slim arms. Pale skin. No calluses where there should've been thickened scars. His body was younger. Cleaner. Untouched by decades of murder.
"This body…" he muttered.
The woman frowned slightly. "Are you feeling confused? That's normal. You've been unconscious for three days."
Three days.
Han Li closed his eyes.
So death failed.
—
After the nurse left, Han Li lay still, staring at the ceiling, sorting through the fragments flooding his mind.
This body had a name.
Li Han.
Nineteen years old.
University student.
Parents deceased. No siblings. Ordinary life. No blood. No blades. No orders whispered in the dark.
The memories felt… thin. Like borrowed clothes.
Han Li—the assassin—had lived over thirty brutal years. Li Han had barely lived at all.
"…Tch."
A quiet sound escaped his lips.
Of all possible reincarnations… this was insulting.
No cultivation. No sect. No enemies to kill.
Just a weak body in a fragile world.
And yet—
Han Li clenched his fist.
The movement was smooth. Precise. His instincts were intact.
The body is weak, he thought. But I am not.
He swung his legs off the bed.
The floor was cold.
He stood.
Stable. Balanced.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Good," he murmured. "At least death didn't take everything."
The door suddenly opened again.
A middle-aged man in a coat entered, glasses perched on his nose. "Li Han, how are you feeling?"
Han Li studied him.
No threat.
"Alive," he answered honestly.
The doctor chuckled. "That's a good start. You're cleared to leave tomorrow. Just don't push yourself."
Han Li nodded.
After the doctor left, silence returned.
He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands.
So this is my second life.
An assassin reborn in a peaceful era.
Absurd.
Boring.
…Or so he thought.
A sharp pain suddenly pierced his head.
Han Li hissed, gripping the bed.
The room blurred.
A cold, mechanical voice echoed in his mind.
[Dungeon System initializing…]
[Host confirmed: Li Han.]
[Soul compatibility: 100%.]
Han Li's eyes snapped open.
"…System?"
The word slipped out instinctively.
In his previous life, sects spoke of heavenly artifacts that bound to fate. This felt… similar. But cleaner. Crueler.
[Initialization complete.]
[Welcome back, Assassin Han Li.]
The voice paused, almost amused.
[You have died once. The world has given you another chance.]
Han Li laughed.
A low, quiet sound.
"So even the heavens mock me now."
A translucent panel appeared before his eyes.
Stats. Numbers. Skills locked and greyed out.
No cultivation realm. No qi.
But one line stood out.
[Passive Skill: Killing Intent (Dormant)]
Han Li's smile widened.
"Seems I wasn't completely erased."
The system continued.
[First Dungeon will activate upon discharge from hospital.]
[Warning: This world is not as peaceful as it appears.]
The panel vanished.
The room returned to normal.
Machines beeped softly.
Han Li leaned back on the bed, staring at the ceiling once more.
A modern world. Dungeons. Powers. Martial paths hidden beneath concrete and glass.
And him—
An assassin who had already paid for his sins with death.
"…Fine," he said quietly. "If I'm alive again…"
His eyes sharpened.
"I'll live properly this time."
Outside the window, the city lights flickered.
And somewhere beneath them, something ancient stirred.