The Supreme Emperor Reborn as the Broken Servant

Ch 2

The wind howled in his ears, a roaring vortex of cold air and freezing rain that tore at his clothes as the ground rushed up to meet him. Lucas stared blindly at the receding, shattered window of the skyscraper, his broken legs dangling uselessly beneath him in the empty air.

Sterling Blair’s cruel smirk and Young Master Richard’s mocking laughter burned into his mind, fueling a blazing fire of hatred in his chest. "They are going to kill Maya," he thought frantically, his fingers clawing at the empty air as the dark asphalt loomed closer.

"I can’t die yet. I promised our father I would protect her. I can't leave her alone in this merciless world!" A sickening, deafening crash echoed through the narrow alleyway as his body violently smashed into the rain-slicked concrete.

The impact shattered his remaining ribs, punctured his lungs, and tore through his flesh, sending a fountain of dark blood splashing into the puddles. He lay twisted in the darkness, suffocating on his own blood, unable to even scream as the icy rain washed over his pale face.

From the entrance of the alley, a heavy pair of leather boots suddenly splashed into the water, stepping slowly toward his broken form. "Well, look at that. The trash actually took the express elevator down," a rough, gravelly voice chuckled from beneath a black umbrella.

Lucas weakly rolled his eyes, recognizing the man—it was Scarface Marcus, one of Young Master Richard’s secondary street enforcers. "Is the useless dog dead yet?" another thug asked, shining a bright flashlight directly into Lucas’s dilated, bleeding eyes.

"Not yet, but he’s breathing his last," Marcus sneered, casually kicking Lucas’s shattered knee, sending a fresh wave of agony through his dying body. "Young Master Richard wants to be completely sure. Pull out the blade and slice his throat. We don't leave loose ends in Oakhaven."

Lucas tried to move, to crawl, to scream for mercy, but his broken mortal throat could only produce a weak, wet rattle. The raw, unadulterated fury of this absolute injustice—the sheer helplessness of his life—struck the deepest, darkest core of his soul like a cosmic hammer.

"If there is a God in this world, let me kill them!" Lucas screamed internally, his mind fracturing under the intense weight of his hatred. "Let me survive! Let me tear them all to pieces! Let me save my sister!"

Deep within the sealed recesses of his consciousness, a massive, ancient barrier made of golden celestial chains suddenly began to crack. The fatal trauma of the fall, combined with the pure, untamed rage of a dying mortal, shattered the twenty-year-old cosmic seal entirely.

A blinding flash of invisible, divine light erupted from his heart, instantly freezing the raindrops in mid-air around his broken body. The fragile, pathetic mortal servant named Lucas died in that very instant, and Lucas, the Nine Heavens Immortal Emperor, awakened.

Two decades of suppressed, majestic memories rushed back into his mind like a tidal wave of celestial fire and cosmic thunder. He remembered the vast, golden palace of the Upper Realm, the brutal celestial coup, and the agonizing sight of his beautiful wife, Chloe, dying in his arms.

"Who goes there?" Marcus shouted, suddenly stumbling backward as a terrifying, suffocating pressure dropped onto the alleyway like a physical weight. The flashlight in the thug's hand flickered violently and shattered, plunging the narrow space into pitch-black darkness.

Lucas slowly opened his eyes, but they were no longer the dull, submissive eyes of a beaten driver. They burned with a profound, terrifying golden radiance, ancient and absolute, reflecting the raw authority of a god who ruled over billions of stars.

"What... what is wrong with his eyes?" the second thug whimpered, his knees shaking uncontrollably as he dropped his hunting knife into the mud. Lucas took a deep breath, but as he attempted to circulate his primordial qi, a sharp, burning pain flared through his chest.

His massive immortal soul realized a terrible, restrictive truth: his current mortal body was profoundly, dangerously weak. If he unleashed even a fraction of his true divine energy right now, his physical form would instantly detonate into blood mist.

Furthermore, the moment his celestial signature flared too bright, the traitorous gods hidden in the upper realms would instantly pinpoint his location. "I must suppress it," Lucas muttered, his voice sounding entirely different now—deep, resonant, and dripping with ancient power.

"Who the hell are you talking to, you crippled trash?" Marcus roared, trying to shake off his overwhelming dread as he drew a heavy silver pistol. "I don't care what kind of trick you're playing! Die!" Marcus screamed, pulling the trigger three times in rapid succession.

Lucas didn't even blink as the three lead bullets flew through the air, targeting his chest and forehead with lethal accuracy. With a slight twitch of his finger, a microscopic strand of true primordial qi flickered into the air, instantly altering the atmospheric pressure.

The three bullets suddenly veered off course, slicing through the air and burying themselves deep into the brick wall behind him. "Missed? How the hell did I miss from three feet away?" Marcus gasped, his face turning completely pale in the dim neon light.

"Your mortal eyes are blind to the heavens," Lucas said softly, his voice echoing through the alleyway like a funeral bell. With a low grunt, Lucas focused his mind on his internal structure, utilizing the ancient, forbidden Bone-Knitting Technique of the Celestial Realm.

The broken, shattered bones in his legs and ribs forcefully snapped back into their proper alignments through pure, agonizing willpower. The muscles tore and re-stitched themselves within seconds, the divine qi forcefully sealing his bleeding internal organs and repairing his punctured lungs.

He stood up slowly, the water cascading off his shoulders as he towered over the two trembling thugs like an awakened demon. "You... your legs were broken! I saw them break!" the second thug shrieked, stumbling backward until he tripped over a trash can.

"He’s a freak! He’s using some kind of magic!" the man screamed, scrambling to his feet and running out of the alleyway in pure terror. Marcus trembled violently, his gun shaking in his hand as he stared at the man who had just fallen eighty stories and stood up unharmed.

"Who... who are you?" Marcus choked out, his voice cracking as the suffocating pressure made it nearly impossible for him to breathe. Lucas stepped forward, his boots clicking softly against the concrete, the golden light in his eyes drilling straight into Marcus’s soul.

"A dead man has no need to know my name," Lucas said coldly, reaching out with a lightning-fast movement. He gripped Marcus’s wrist, twisting it lightly, and a sudden crunch echoed as the bones in the thug’s arm shattered into splinters instantly.

Marcus screamed in agony, dropping the gun as he fell to his knees, clutching his ruined arm while tears and sweat poured down his face. "Please... please spare me! It was Young Master Richard! He ordered us to do it! He paid us!" Marcus begged, his arrogance completely gone.

"Where is Richard now?" Lucas demanded, his voice devoid of any emotion, cold enough to freeze the falling rain. "He... he went to the hospital! He sent his personal guards to Oakhaven Central Hospital to kill your sister!" Marcus stammered out rapidly.

"They are going to pull her plug and make it look like a medical failure! Please, I told you everything! Let me go!" Lucas’s heart squeezed with a sudden, sharp pang of mortal emotion—Lucas’s love and protective instinct for Maya remained completely intact.

She was his only anchor in this lower world, the innocent girl who had smiled at him when everyone else treated him like trash. "If a single hair on her head is harmed, I will turn this city into a graveyard," Lucas whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying wrath.

Marcus let out a ragged sigh of relief, believing his compliance had bought his pathetic life from this resurrected monster. But Lucas’s golden eyes remained entirely devoid of human mercy as he looked down at the whimpering thug.

"Did you show mercy when you drew your blade to slice my throat?" Lucas asked, his voice dripping with absolute ice. "Did your master show mercy when he shattered my knees and threw me from the eightieth floor of that tower?"

"Wait—no! Please!" Marcus shrieked, his eyes widening in pure terror as he realized his fatal mistake. Lucas did not utter another word, his face an unmoving mask of stone as his grip tightened on Marcus’s neck.

With a brutal, effortless twist of his wrist, a sickening CRACK echoed through the dark, rain-soaked alleyway. Marcus’s head snapped at an unnatural angle, his eyes rolling back as his heavy body slumped lifelessly into the filthy puddle.

Lucas released the corpse, watching it splash into the mud without a single shred of regret or hesitation. An emperor did not bargain with insects, and a vengeful brother did not leave enemies alive to strike from behind.

With a cold flick of his finger, Lucas released a microscopic spark of pure celestial True Fire directly onto the fallen bodies. The invisible, blindingly hot flame instantly consumed the corpses, turning bone and blood into invisible ash that dissolved into the rain without leaving a single trace or scent on the concrete. Just assume they were never there.

Lucas reached into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around his cracked smartphone, which miraculously still functioned despite the fall. Suddenly, the screen lit up with a frantic, desperate text message from Nurse Sun, the only kind healthcare worker at the ICU.

Lucas! Run! Young Master Richard’s men just arrived at the VIP ward! They forced us out and locked the doors! They are going to shut off Maya’s machine! Come quick!

The text felt like a burning blade piercing his mind, triggering a wave of pure, unadulterated anger that shook his very soul. "Richard... Blair... you court absolute death," Lucas roared, his voice causing the windows of the alleyway to vibrate and crack.

He didn't hesitate, gathering the small amount of primordial qi his weak body could handle and focusing it entirely into his legs. With a powerful leap, his body transformed into a dark blur, tearing through the shadows of the alleyway and leaping onto the rooftops.

He sprinted across the concrete ledges of Oakhaven, a silent, vengeful ghost moving at speeds no normal human could ever comprehend. Below him, the neon lights of the city blurred into streaks of vibrant color as he pushed his physical limits.

Every stride was fueled by the memory of the betrayal—the way Blair had whispered her confession, the way Richard had smiled as he fell. "They thought I was a doormat. They thought they could step on me and butcher my family without any consequences," he thought, his teeth grinding.

"They will learn that when an Emperor descends to the dust, the entire world must kneel or burn." Within minutes, the towering, sterile white structure of Oakhaven Central Hospital appeared through the heavy curtain of rain.

The top floor, where the Intensive Care Unit was located, was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the chaotic neon streets below. Lucas dropped down from the roof of an adjacent building, landing silently on the hospital’s rear balcony without making a single sound.

He shattered the lock of the glass door with a flick of his finger, stepping into the quiet, pristine hallway of the medical facility. The air here smelled heavily of bleach and medicine, but to Lucas’s heightened senses, it smelled of impending death.

He walked swiftly down the corridor, his golden eyes scanning through the walls, tracing the life signatures of the people inside. Up ahead, outside Ward 402, three large, muscular men in matching black suits stood guard, their expressions cold and alert.

They were Richard’s elite mercenaries, the very same men who had stood by and watched his legs get broken at the banquet hall. Inside the room, through the glass window, Lucas could see the pale, fragile form of Maya lying motionless on the bed.

A tall, menacing thug was already standing right next to her bed, his large hand resting directly on the main power switch of her ventilator. The man smiled cruelly, looking down at the innocent, sleeping girl as his finger began to slowly apply pressure to the button.