The rain fell sideways, needling the streets like thrown daggers.
Xu Zhou gripped the bicycle handlebars tighter. His knuckles whitened, fingers numb. Wind howled between buildings, and his eyes squinted through the downpour. A muscle in his jaw twitched. The streetlights flickered overhead, casting pale halos on the slick pavement that shimmered like broken glass. His thin jacket clung to him like a second skin—utterly useless against the cold. Each breath came in misty huffs, shallow and tight.
Just another long day of tutoring. Another ride through rain and silence. Another day surviving in a world that never looked back.
He pedaled harder. His knees ached from exertion, brows furrowed in quiet frustration.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. The screen lit faintly through the fabric—probably another unpaid bill. He didn't check.
Then—
His tires slipped.
Rubber shrieked against soaked asphalt. His body lurched forward. A flash of rusted metal. The guardrail cracked like paper.
And for one breathless second—
there was only silence.
Only weightlessness.
Like time had forgotten him.
> "...Is this how it ends?"
"No—damn it—not yet.
Didn't even punch that bastard math teacher.
Didn't even live."
"If I get another life…"
"I won't waste it. I'll climb. I'll seize."
"This time—I'll reach higher than anyone ever dared."
The city lights spun beneath him.
Rain fell upward.
And then—darkness swallowed everything.
---
Warmth.
Not the sterile heat of a hospital room. Not the icy bite of rain-soaked pavement. But something gentler. Deeper. A warmth that pulsed in rhythm with a heartbeat.
His mind drifted up through haze, like a feather floating toward the surface of deep water.
He tried to move. Nothing. His limbs were clumsy—soft and useless.
> What happened…?
Then it came. The fall. The screech. The guardrail.
And the impossible stillness that followed.
> Right… I died. This body… did I reincarnate?
His vision wavered, then sharpened enough to make out a face above him.
A young woman cradled him close, her arms trembling from exertion. Her skin was pale, luminous with sweat. Long black hair spilled loose over her shoulders. Her lips trembled as she smiled through tears.
She was crying—and smiling.
"Zhou'er… my little Zhou'er…"
> She's calling me Zhou'er. My name… it's the same?
Is she… my mother in this life?
He couldn't speak. But something stirred—something deep and old. An instinct. A familiarity that defied memory. Her voice calmed him. Her scent wrapped around him like a lullaby.
His tiny fingers twitched, brushing weakly against her skin.
Then another face leaned in. A young man—early twenties, perhaps—with sharp brows and eyes shimmering with emotion. His grin was wide, but trembled at the edges.
He looked down at Xu Zhou as if he were holding the universe.
"So soft… is this what babies are always like?"
"Don't scare him," the woman muttered, voice hoarse but warm.
"I'm appreciating his appearance!" he protested, puffing out his chest. "That brow! That nose! He clearly takes after me."
> They must be my parents… probably.
Xu Zhou… that's still my name. But everything else…
Even without knowing their names, the warmth in their voices felt real. Familiar. Unshakably so.
Xu Zhou glanced around, sluggish eyes dragging across shadows and candlelight. Wooden beams lined the ceiling above. Lanterns flickered in jade sconces. The air smelled of incense and bitter herbs.
A few robed elders stood nearby, sleeves long, expressions solemn. Embroidered beasts shimmered on silk garments.
> Robes? Candles? Embroidery?
This isn't the modern world.
Am I… in some ancient dynasty?
Or something even stranger?
Then—
"Where is my grandson?!"
A heavy door groaned open. Two men entered the chamber.
The first was broad-shouldered, wrapped in crimson and gold. His eyes swept the room once, sharp and commanding, before softening as they found the child. His steps echoed like war drums. He exhaled slowly, his fists unclenching.
The second was a contrast—tall and still, robed in pale silver. His presence was calm but carried weight. His gaze felt like a sword unsheathed in snowfall—silent, precise, and coldly discerning.
> Grandfathers.
These two… they're my grandfathers?
Before he could process more, another pair swept into the room behind them.
The first woman moved like drifting snow, her jade robes flowing, pearl hairpins catching firelight in her phoenix bun. Though composed, her pace quickened when she saw the newborn, and her eyes grew misty.
The second burst in with no restraint. Lavender robes rippled behind her as she rushed to the bed. Her expression brimmed with maternal panic.
Lan Yuying, Ji Ruyan's mother, reached her daughter first.
"Xu Tiancheng!" she snapped at the young man. "Support her back properly! Do you think you're a decoration?!"
Then her voice softened as she knelt beside the bed. "Ji Ruyan… my sweet child. You did so well. Let me see my grandson."
> Xu Tiancheng… Ji Ruyan.
My father's name… and my mother's.
Xu Clan and Ji Clan?
A step behind came another matriarch. Graceful, elegant—draped in ivory trimmed with deep blue. She moved with quiet dignity, her presence alone enough to silence a hall.
Ji Meiling, matriarch of the Xu Clan - his paternal grandmother.
She glanced at her son with a mild sigh and shook her head.
Then her eyes settled on Ji Ruyan. Her voice gentled. "You pushed too hard, didn't you? Honestly… this foolish son of mine. Letting you go through this without proper care."
> So many names… but they all feel real. Tangible.
This warmth—it's not a dream.
It's… family.
He couldn't move. But a flicker of emotion passed through him. Something tender. Heavy. A yearning he didn't know he still had.
---
FWOOOSH.
Wind roared through the chamber. Curtains flared. Candlelight danced.
All heads turned upward.
From the circular skylight in the ceiling, four figures descended like falling petals.
Their robes billowed. They touched down without sound.
"Apologies for the delay!" said one, brushing wind-blown hair from his brow. Ji Wenhao's eyes sparkled with mischief. "We stumbled on a secret realm on the way down."
"Is that the one?" asked Xu Tianli beside him, eyes wide. "He's… breathing, right?"
Xu Tianhe chuckled. "He's even smaller than I imagined. Looks terrified."
Ji Qingxue landed last, her crimson ribbon fluttering behind her. She arched a brow, smirking. "Miss us, little Tiancheng?"
"Can you not joke today?" Xu Tiancheng groaned.
But Xu Zhou had stopped listening.
> They flew.
Through the air.
Landed like they weighed nothing.
Like gods.
This wasn't some ancient kingdom. This wasn't a historical fantasy.
> This was a cultivation world.
And I… Xu Zhou… have been reborn into it.
---
The room brimmed with joy. Voices. Laughter. Relief.
But one figure stood quietly apart from the celebration.
An elder in muted gray robes. White-haired. Eyes sharp beneath hooded lids. His expression unreadable.
He didn't speak. But his gaze never left the child.
Then—
A flicker.
Silver light.
It passed like a ripple through Xu Zhou's eye—sharp and cold, like moonlight on still water.
The elder froze. His breath caught. He stepped forward slightly.
Then—nothing.
Only a newborn's calm, blinking gaze.
"…Strange," the man whispered. "For a moment…"
He said no more. And no one else noticed.
---
Far beneath the surface of the world,where ley-lines twisted like sleeping dragons,space stirred.
It shimmered across the lone continent like fractured glass—an ancient resonance awakening in the bones of reality itself.
Something forgotten had begun to turn once more.