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... nd went downstairs to the students to look up.

On the edge of the roof, a young man wearing a blue trench coat holds a bottle of wine in his hand. He is so eager to drink, and all his mouth is finished in one breath. His feet are half hanging on the edge of the roof, his body is crumbling, and he falls at any time. Possible down.

There was a scream in the downstairs.

"It turned out to be him. I heard that this kid has had a hard time in recent days, because his Laozi’s affai ...

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Zorian is a teenage mage of humble birth and slightly above-average skill, attending his third year of education at Cyoria’s magical academy.

He is a driven and irritable young man, consumed by a desire to ensure his own future and free himself of the influence of his family, whom he resents for favoring his brothers over him. Consequently, he has no time for pointless distractions or paying attention to other people’s problems.

As it happens, time is something he is about to get plenty of. On the eve of the Cyoria’s annual summer festival, he is killed and brought back to the beginning of the month, just before he was about to take a train to Cyoria.

Suddenly trapped in a time loop with no clear end or exit, Zorian will have to look both within and without to unravel the mystery before him. And he does have to unravel it, for the time loop hadn’t been made for his sake and dangers lurk everywhere…

Repetition is the mother of learning, but Zorian will have to first make sure he survives to try again — in a world of magic, even a time traveler isn’t safe from those who wish him ill.

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Cha Yuen, a remarkable cultivator in his previous existence, witnessed the ruthless machinations of the three formidable factions within the Qing-Yun Realm. These malevolent organizations, in their ceaseless pursuit of cultivation resources, had recklessly extinguished the lives of millions, turning once-thriving towns into barren wastelands within the span of a single night. Their nefarious deeds were shrouded in deception, as they would audaciously attribute the towns' downfall to pestilence and natural disasters.

With an iron grip on all cultivation resources and a monopoly over precious practice materials, these factions ruthlessly barred outsiders from embarking on their own cultivation journeys, reserving this privilege solely for their inner circles.

In response to their tyranny, Cha Yuen defiantly declared war against the oppressive triad. He stood alone on the battlefield, confronting insurmountable odds, and ultimately paid the ultimate price for his valiant efforts, perishing in vain. Yet, destiny had other plans for him. Cha Yuen's spirit was reborn within the fragile mortal vessel of a 16-year-old boy. Armed with the profound powers he had honed in his previous life, he resolved to carve a path of bloodshed and retribution, relentlessly battling his way back into the heart of the Qing-Yun Realm.

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The Empire's forces retreated in desperation—trampled by faceless horrors bringing darkness and death to these once beautiful lands.Only the most courageous stood in defiance, forming a last defence to buy the people time to flee—fighting until the final embers of hope burned out.A man stands with a silver sword, like a beacon of hope to those around him. He roared with all his might drawing his blade against the overwhelming enemy!“You face Lancelot, Sword of the Empire! ”These horrors tested the Lord's grit and loyalty in the final moments.“Should my blade break, I will use my body!”The knights had fallen, broken swords for their tombstones, and lords fled, betraying the Empire to survive.“If my body breaks, I'll use my Soul!”Lancelot, the sword of the Empire, fought alone.All hope seemed lost.“And if my Soul fails...”What could a single man and his army do?He fights against the dark tide, blade in hand, heart on sleeve.“I will sell myself to the devil for revenge!”But he was too weak, too fragile.The last Lord of humanity stood against the enemy.Lancelot was a master of the sword, a mortal, neither a God nor a Saint.Miracles were beyond his reach.Now only a broken man impaled on his own destroyed throne.His blade shattered—now, like rose petals, it was scattered across the charred ground.Lancelot's soul was fated for the abyss as the light faded from his eyes.His last ounce of resistance used staring at the man who betrayed the Empire.Now with only the desire to kill, crush and seek revenge smouldering inside him.Now unwilling to die and desperate to fight once again.He desired to fight for the people who supported him.Lancelot refused to surrender, to fall like this.As quietly in the abyss, a voice whispered to him.It tried to entice the Lord, ignite his desire to win and fight again.“If given a second chance, to relive your life with a different choice... Would you Accept?”Blood gathered in his throat, forcing him to reply in his mind.A frail and broken voice'There is no reason to ask, of course!'“No matter the cost?”'Even if I were to lose everything...''If my people can live on. I would sacrifice everything I have!'“You will no longer be the same, a monster, twisted and vicious.”“Will you still accept?”The Lord's heart ached, taking great pride in his humanity.To lose that caused his mind to falter.Finally, out of power, unable to speak or reply with a trembling arm.Lancelot reached out.Towards the raspy voice.Towards the abyss.Towards a new future.[So you would accept after all...]'I must accept.''I must stand tall.''I must not break.''Because...''I am the Lord of humanity![Nay, you are the king of demons]