“操！”凌云低声骂了一句，猛地睁开眼。刺眼的阳光让他眯了眯眼，但很快他适应了。鼻子里盖着厚厚的棉被，身上盖着同样的东西，暖烘烘的，带着一股子木头味儿。他记得自己明明在给那个小白脸挡剑，被捅得透心凉透心透心凉，怎么会在这里？

等等。

凌云猛地坐起身，Looking around the room, it's surprisingly simple, rustic wooden furniture, a small window with curtains fluttering in the breeze, and a small desk with ancient scrolls scattered on it. This is...this is the room he'd lived in as a child?

He touched his chest. There was no painful wound, no searing agony. Instead, he felt the light, easy breathing of... a baby? He looked down. Sure enough, he was lying in a small crib, swaddled in soft blankets.

“顾尘...” He patted his head, a name he hadn't used in over a decade. It was the name of the guy who'd betrayed him, the guy who'd left him for dead.

But this couldn't be right. He was supposed to be a legendary figure, the most feared demon-king in the mortal world. He was supposed to be fighting for his throne, consolidating his power, not... being reborn as a baby?