“Reborn with the Violet Bloom”

Chapter: 2 Reborn with the Violet Demon Seed

Silence settled over the room, thick and heavy, almost like it had weight.

For a brief moment, nobody moved. Nobody even seemed to breathe. The air itself felt hesitant, as if it wasn’t sure what it was supposed to do next, as if it couldn’t quite decide whether the man sitting on the bed was real or just a desperate hallucination.

Ethan Northwind was supposed to be dead.

Just moments earlier, his body had been cold and still. His breathing had been so faint it was barely there at all. Even Lina, who had refused to leave his side, had been forced to accept the truth she didn’t want to face.

She had lost him.

And yet now, there he was.

Ethan sat upright on the wooden bed.

His back was straight. His eyes were open, dark and clear, focused and undeniably alive. His face was pale, and his movements were stiff, like someone waking from a very long, very deep sleep, but there was no mistaking it.

He was alive.

At the doorway, everything froze.

The chaos from moments earlier hung suspended in the air. Sawdust covered the floor where furniture had been broken and shoved aside in haste. Two men stood there, still gripping a young woman between them. One was tall and broad-shouldered. The other was shorter, stockier. Their hands were still wrapped around her arms, but their grip had loosened without them even realizing it.

The girl looked a mess.

Her clothes were wrinkled and pulled out of place. Her hair was disheveled, strands sticking to her tear-streaked face. Her eyes were swollen red from crying, and fresh tears trembled at the corners, stubbornly refusing to fall, as if they were holding on for dear life.

Standing directly in front of her was a thin man with narrow eyes and a sharp, pointed nose. His fingers were still pinching her cheeks, forcing her face upward. The mocking smile on his lips hadn’t disappeared yet, though it had stiffened slightly.

All four of them stared at Ethan.

Time seemed to stretch, pulling thin.

Then Lina gasped.

It was sharp and sudden, like her lungs had forgotten their job for a second. Her breath hitched violently as her eyes widened.

When she saw Ethan slowly swing his legs over the edge of the bed, something inside her shattered. The disbelief cracked apart, replaced by a surge of emotion so strong it made her knees weak.

“He moved…”

The words barely made it past her lips.

In the next instant, she tore herself free from the men holding her. They were too stunned to stop her. She stumbled forward, nearly tripping over her own feet, and rushed to the bedside before collapsing to her knees.

“He’s awake… he’s really awake…”

Her voice broke completely.

“Uncle… you’re not dead. Thank the heavens. You’re not dead…”

The tears came all at once. They poured down her face, soaking into the bedding as she clutched Ethan’s sleeve like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Ethan felt a tight ache bloom in his chest.

It wasn’t pain. Not physical, anyway.

He lifted his hand slowly. His fingers trembled, weak and unsteady, but he forced them to behave as he placed his palm gently on her shoulder.

“Lina,” he said softly. “Don’t cry. I’m here. I’m still here.”

His voice was rough, worn thin, but calm.

She froze.

Slowly, almost cautiously, she lifted her head. She looked at him like she was afraid he might disappear the moment she blinked. When their eyes finally met, she let out a broken sob and nodded again and again.

“I thought… I thought I lost you…”

Ethan’s expression softened.

A strange warmth spread through him, unfamiliar yet overwhelming. Memories that didn’t fully belong to him stirred beneath the surface, blending with his own thoughts until it became impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

This was Lina Northwind.

His sister-in-law.

Only nineteen years old.

She had delicate features and eyes that seemed far too gentle for a world this cruel. Even now, with her face swollen from crying, she was painfully beautiful. The sorrow she carried clung to her like a fragile veil, making her seem as though she might break if anyone touched her too roughly.

No wonder Marcus Northwind had never been able to forget her.

Not even after death.

At the doorway, Victor Crane was the first to snap out of it.

His eyes narrowed as disbelief curdled into irritation. The mocking smile returned to his face, sharper this time, colder.

“So you’re still alive,” he sneered. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect that.”

He let out a short laugh and glanced at the men beside him.

“Well, that saves us some trouble. No need to prepare a funeral now.”

Then his gaze shifted back to Lina.

“Come on,” he said impatiently. “You’ve seen it for yourself. What excuse do you have left not to come with us?”

Lina stiffened.

Her fingers tightened around Ethan’s sleeve. Her lips trembled as she lowered her eyes.

“I… I’ll go,” she whispered.

“Wait.”

The word was quiet.

But it carried weight.

Ethan’s hand tightened on her shoulder as he lifted his head and looked straight at Victor.

There was no anger in his eyes. No fear. Just a deep, unsettling calm.

It was the look of someone staring at a dead man.

Victor felt a chill creep up his spine before he could stop it.

Ethan’s lips curved faintly.

“Victor Crane,” he said evenly, “you’re standing on the edge of death, and yet you still dare to act like this.”

The room went silent.

Then Victor laughed.

“Death?” He clutched his stomach, as if he’d just heard the funniest joke imaginable. “Do you even hear yourself?”

He straightened, pride shining clearly in his eyes.

“This morning, I broke through to the first rank of the Spirit Connection Realm. I’m a true Spirit Master now.”

He spread his arms slightly, as if showing off.

“My body has never felt better. I’ll live another hundred years easily. And you think I’m dying?”

His gaze sharpened.

“Ethan Northwind, it looks like losing consciousness finally scrambled your brain.”

Lina’s heart sank.

Spirit Masters weren’t ordinary people. They could draw upon the spiritual energy of heaven and earth itself. Their cultivation advanced through Spirit Gathering, Spirit Connection, Spirit Fusion, and eventually Heavenly Spirit, each realm divided into nine ranks.

Even the weakest Spirit Master stood far above common folk.

Victor’s laughter faded.

His expression darkened as he waved his hand.

“Eric Hale. Samuel Crow. Take her.”

“Yes.”

The two men stepped forward.

Ethan didn’t move.

“If you don’t believe me,” he said calmly, “press the point between your seventh cervical vertebra and first thoracic vertebra.”

Victor scoffed. “And what’s that supposed to do? Scare me to death?”

“No spiritual energy,” Ethan replied. “Just press it.”

Victor hesitated for half a second.

Then pride won.

“Fine,” he said coldly. “Let’s see what kind of trick you’re playing.”

He raised his finger and pressed down.

Instantly, his expression changed.

A violent numbness shot across his scalp. His vision darkened, like a curtain dropping suddenly, and his legs went weak beneath him. He staggered forward, barely staying upright.

His face drained of color.

“How do you feel?” Ethan asked quietly.

Victor stared at him in pure horror.

The dizziness didn’t fade. His limbs felt wrong, disconnected, and his balance was completely gone.

Behind him, Lina’s eyes widened.

Eric Hale and Samuel Crow froze where they stood, cold sweat breaking out across their backs.

“That,” Ethan said evenly, “is a hidden cultivation ailment caused by flawed techniques.”

Victor clenched his teeth. “That’s impossible. If I had something like that, I’d know.”

“Your breakthrough this morning wasn’t easy,” Ethan replied.

Victor stiffened.

“How do you know that?”

Ethan didn’t answer.

He turned his gaze to the other two men.

“You have the same problem.”

Their expressions changed instantly.

Almost without thinking, they pressed the backs of their heads.

A moment later, both of them swayed, faces turning pale as fear replaced arrogance.

The room fell silent again.

Ethan leaned back against the headboard, breathing heavily. Talking for this long had drained nearly all his strength, but his eyes remained sharp and focused.

Finally, Victor swallowed.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“You already know,” Ethan replied.

After a long pause, Victor clenched his fists.

“Fine,” he said bitterly. “We’ll leave today.”

“And tomorrow?” Ethan asked.

Victor’s face twisted.

“This won’t last,” he said coldly. “But for now, we’re leaving.”

As they turned to go, Ethan spoke once more.

“You were never taught complete spiritual techniques. You were never true members of the Northwind Clan.”

The words hit hard.

“To survive,” Ethan continued, “stop cultivating immediately. Massage your palms, soles, and crown with spiritual energy three times a day.”

Clinging to hope, the three men nodded and fled.

The door shut behind them.

Only then did Lina finally let out the breath she’d been holding.

She turned toward Ethan, her eyes shining with disbelief and admiration.

“Uncle… that was amazing,” she whispered.

Ethan gave a faint smile.

“I was bluffing,” he said.

After she left to cook, Ethan closed his eyes and focused inward, sorting through the memories of this body.

Then, as he cultivated, something appeared within his dantian.

A cluster of purple, oval-shaped particles floated quietly.

Smooth. Perfect.

Familiar.

His heart skipped.

There was no mistaking it.

It looked exactly like the final boss from the game Demon.

The legendary boss seed.

Inside his body.

Ethan’s thoughts went blank.

Was this world real?

Or had the game followed him here?