They say that in the final moments before death, a person's life flashes before their eyes.
And now, for Langtian, that moment had come.
Suddenly, he was ten years old again, and back in Flowing Water Village, the peaceful place where he had been born and raised.
The sun was warm. The air was filled with the scent of earth and wildflowers. Chickens clucked in the distance, and somewhere, a stream whispered softly over stones.
There, in the heart of the village, he saw them, his family.
His parents, his brothers.
They were alive, smiling, waiting for him.
"Mother! Father! Lang Shi! Lang Feng!
Langtian ran toward them, and his brothers met him halfway, tackling him with laughter. The three of them tumbled into the dusty road in a joyful tangle of limbs and voices.
"Langtian! Where the hell have you been?"
"We missed you, little bro!"
Langtian couldn't stop the tears. They streamed down his face as he clutched them tightly, his chest full of warmth and disbelief.
"Come on!" one of them grinned, ruffling his hair. "Dinner's waiting!"
"Yeah, let's go!"
They pulled him to his feet and threw their arms around his shoulders, walking together down the familiar path toward home.
The house hadn't changed at all.
Their father had just returned from a hunt, proudly dragging a massive wild boar behind him. The scent of their mother's cooking drifted from the kitchen—rich, savory, mouthwatering. Her stew bubbled over the fire, and fresh vegetables steamed on the side.
Langtian ate so much he thought his belly might burst. His brothers laughed and teased him as he went back for third and fourth helpings.
And for the next few days, it was like time itself had turned back.
Langtian and his brothers played from dawn till dusk. They were laughing, chasing each other through the dusty roads, wrestling in the grass, sneaking fruit from the neighbors' trees. Just like the old days. Mischievous, wild and free.
His eldest brother, Bai Lang Shi, was still the strongest in the village. If anyone dared to mess with Langtian, all he had to do was tell Lang Shi, who would storm over and punch the bully in the face without hesitation.
Meanwhile, his second brother, Bai Lang Feng, was the smart one. When they played Go, he always won, sometimes even beating the village elders, which earned him endless bragging rights.
And just like that…
It was as if nothing had ever changed.
They were together again.
Happy.
As though the tragedy had never happened.
But that wasn't all.
She was there, too.
Su Yue Shu—Langtian's childhood friend.
Yue Shu had always been kind, gentle… and beautiful. Her smile could melt the hardest heart, and whenever she looked at Langtian, it made his chest feel light and warm.
She had liked him for as long as he could remember. And though he had never dared to say it aloud, he had liked her too, perhaps more deeply than even he knew.
Their families had made plans when they were still young.
When they came of age, the two of them would marry.
And ten years later… the wedding finally came.
Beneath a blooming plum tree, its petals fluttering down like soft snow, Langtian stood in ceremonial red robes, his chest rising and falling with nervous excitement. The tree was draped in bright silk, red and gold, with lanterns swaying in the breeze. The scent of osmanthus wine hung in the air, sweet and heady.
Soft music played on bamboo flutes. Laughter drifted from every corner of the village.
And then she appeared.
Su Yue Shu walked toward him, dressed in flowing red, a silk veil covering her face. Her steps were light, shy yet graceful. Every eye was on her, and his eyes too.
Langtian's heart raced.
She reached out with trembling hands, and he took them, firm and steady.
Their fingers intertwined.
The villagers cheered, firecrackers crackled in the distance.
This moment, this life, filled with laughter, warmth and love, it was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had lost.
Langtian lifted her veil, and Yue Shu smiled.
"Langtian," she whispered, eyes full of affection. "We're home now."
He opened his mouth to reply—
But then… the world blurred.
The warmth drained from the air.
The vibrant red silk dulled to gray. The lanterns flickered and died. Yue Shu's smile trembled, then faded completely, her face dissolving like mist under the morning sun.
The music stopped. The laughter vanished.
Only silence remained.
A low wind began to howl in the distance, dry and hollow.
Langtian blinked.
The plum tree was gone. The crowd, the light, the joy… all gone.
He now stood in a place far colder, far darker.
The ground beneath him was cracked stone, veined like dried riverbeds. Foul mist rolled across the ground, curling around his ankles. Overhead, a storm-colored sky churned with slow, heavy clouds. A single twisted, withered tree loomed nearby
And across from him… stood himself.
But this version of Langtian was broken—twisted by hatred, grief, and rage.
His white robe was shredded, stained deep crimson with old blood. His face was pale as ash, his eyes sunken, ringed in shadow. His hair hung in matted, wild strands. His breathing was ragged. His presence… cold and full of death.
A dark aura flickered around him like smoke.
A ghost.
A shadow.
A wrath born of betrayal.
The broken Langtian took a step forward.
"Tell me," he growled, his voice low and cracked. "What the fuck are you doing here?"
Langtian froze, confusion and unease crawling up his spine.
"What…?" he whispered.
The bloodied version of himself sneered.
"Have you already forgotten? What happened to us, Bai Langtian?"
Suddenly, like a blade through the chest, memories slammed into him.
That wicked grin on the Sect Master's face.
The searing pain ripping through his dantian.
The roar of the wind as he fell.
The betrayal.
The terror.
The helpless rage.
Langtian staggered.
His knees buckled slightly, his breathing turned sharp and shallow.
"No…" he murmured. "No… this isn't real…"
"Yes!" the broken Langtian shouted, stepping closer. His voice cracked with fury. "He stole your future. He tore your core from your body. He threw you away like trash. Are you going to lie here and die like a dog?"
Langtian clenched his fists.
His teeth grit.
"No… NO! Yan Hao Yang… that bastard… I have to kill him! I'll make him pay!"
The broken version grinned. A sharp, cruel smile, but satisfied.
"Good. Then come with me."
He extended a hand, pale and bloodstained, trembling with fury.
But then—
A hand gripped his arm, holding Langtian back.
Langtian stopped, turning his head.
It was Yue Shu, still in her red wedding dress. Her veil fluttered in the wind. Her eyes, once so full of joy, now brimmed with fear and sorrow.
"Langtian! Please!" she cried, her voice shaking. "Don't go with him!"
Her grip trembled, but she wouldn't let go.
Then, behind her, more figures emerged from the mist.
His father, tall and weathered, stepped forward and placed a steady hand on Langtian's shoulder. His palm was calloused from years of work, but his touch was warm.
"My son," he said softly, "is this really the path you must walk?"
Beside him stood his mother, her eyes glistening with tears.
"Revenge will only eat away at your soul…" she whispered. "Come home. Stay with us."
And then came his brothers—Bai Lang Shi and Bai Lang Feng—just as he remembered them.
Lang Shi, tall and strong, clenched his jaw but said nothing at first. Lang Feng, quiet and thoughtful, looked down before raising his gaze to meet Langtian's.
"Stay," they said in unison. "Stay with us. Be happy. Let it go."
Langtian's heart twisted.
Their voices… so full of love.
Their presence… so comforting.
This warmth, this feeling, was everything he had ever wanted. Everything he had lost.
He could almost believe this was real.
He could almost forget—
But then it came back.
That memory, like a burning brand across his soul.
Hao Yang's wicked smile.
The pain.
The moment he reached into Langtian's dantian and ripped out his Golden Core.
The betrayal.
The fall.
Langtian's fingers clenched into fists.
He turned slowly.
The broken version of himself stood at the edge of the cracked world, one hand still extended, dripping with blood.
"Come," the figure said. "Come with me. Let go of your weakness. Rise again. Burn the heavens if you must. Let us take back what was stolen."
For a moment, Langtian hesitated.
His body pulled in two directions, toward warmth, or toward vengeance.
But then… the world around him began to crumble.
Yue Shu's fingers slipped from his arm.
His parents, his brothers, their faces blurred and faded like smoke on the wind.
Their voices fell silent.
Because Langtian… he had already made his choice.
***
Gasp!
Langtian's eyes snapped open. He found himself lying at the edge of a small lake, deep in a shadowy valley where sunlight barely reached. Dark mist clung to the air, and the water was stained red with his blood.
He groaned, forcing himself to crawl toward the dry shore.
His body screamed in pain.
Bones were broken. Every slight movement sent sharp agony through him, like someone was sawing into his very marrow.
But even through the torment… it was a good pain.
Because it meant one thing:
He was still alive.
So… he was lucky.
It turned out there had been a deep lake at the bottom of the cliff. And thanks to the years he'd spent tempering his body through cultivation, the fall hadn't killed him.
"I'm still alive..." Langtian began to laugh. A low, crazed sound at first, then louder, wild and ragged.
"Haha… Hahahahaha!"
His body trembled from the effort, blood spilling from the corner of his lips as he spat a curse into the dark.
"Yan Hao Yang…" he growled, his voice laced with venom. "You failed to kill me. I swear—I'll come back. I'll kill you. I'll skin you alive!"
His fists clenched into the dirt as fury surged through his battered frame. His whole body screamed in pain. And yet, that rage burned brighter than the agony.
However…
There was one problem though.
His core—his Golden Spirit Core—was gone, torn from his body.
And without it, how could he survive?
How could he cultivate?
How could he ever be strong enough to take revenge?
He knew the truth: a torn-out core could never grow back.
Even worse, in his current state, infection or spirit backlash would kill him in a matter of days.
It was hopeless.
A long silence followed.
Langtian's head lowered, sweat mixing with blood as it dripped from his brow.
…
"…Fuck," he whispered, clutching the sword still strapped to his side—more for comfort than defense.
"Am I… really going to die here?"
The words echoed into the fog.
And then, the air changed.
The mist, thick and heavy around him, began to stir. Slowly at first… then faster.
Langtian's grip tightened.
Something was coming.
From deep within the darkness, a pair of glowing red eyes blinked open.
His breath caught. Every instinct screamed danger.
The fog parted, and from within it, a large shape stepped forward, silent and slow.