Chapter 14-15
A Child's Memories
He thought he had died… yet how much time had passed, he couldn't tell.
When his awareness slowly returned, like dragging himself out of a dense fog, his vision settled on an unfamiliar scene.
This was not the dark void where he had been stabbed.
Nor the guest room.
And certainly not his old world.
Instead, he stood in a vast garden.
Towering adults in elegant robes surrounded him, laughing and conversing among themselves. From time to time, they glanced down at him with warm, affectionate smiles. Some even reached out, patting his head as though he were a small child.
'What's going on…?'
He tried to move, but a wave of disorientation washed over him. Everything felt off—the size, the scale, the way the world seemed to loom over him.
Lowering his gaze, he finally understood why.
His hands were small, tiny even, like those of a child.
Before he could even process this, the scene blurred. The world warping and shifting around him. Suddenly, an unseen force yanked his hand, pulling his small body forward.
The world around him gradually became clear, and before he knew it, he was being dragged through a bustling street by a young girl with bright eyes and a cheerful laugh.
She seemed to be talking to him, her lips moving animatedly—but her voice sounded distant and muffled, as though he were hearing it through water.
Just as he began piecing things together, the scene flickered once again.
Everything transformed.
And now, he stood in a grand stadium.
Before him rested a small, cubical glass object placed atop a pedestal. Its surface reflected a young boy's face—a familiar face.
And in that moment, he finally understood.
'These are Yang Huo's childhood memories.'
Why he was experiencing them, he didn't know. Even now, the sensation felt unreal, as though he were drifting between dreams. His thoughts were sluggish, emotions distant—like a spectator trapped within another person's body.
Then he felt it.
The weight of countless gazes pressed down upon him.
The audience surrounding the stadium stared with suffocating intensity, their collective breath held in anticipation of what he was about to do.
And almost on instinct, his small hand lifted and pressed against the cool surface of the glass.
In an instant, a brilliant light burst forth, illuminating the entire stadium like a pillar reaching toward the heavens. The roar of the crowd struck him like a physical wave, vibrating through his small chest as thunderous cheers nearly drowned out his senses.
The air itself buzzed with emotion—excitement, envy, awe, hope, disbelief—as the beam fractured into a radiant aurora that spread across the heavens.
Yet amidst all of it, he felt nothing.
No joy.
No excitement.
As the spectacle continued, his eyes drifted away, settling on a familiar figure standing far within the crowd.
A young girl.
Despite being surrounded by people, she seemed utterly alone. Others subtly avoided her, and even those who appeared to be her family looked at her… with contempt.
The expression on her face felt familiar—yet unreachable, like a word on the tip of his tongue.
Awe?
Confusion?
Sadness?
But before he could dwell on it further, the world dissolved once more.
This time, darkness swallowed him whole.
But unlike the previous scenes, this one felt painfully real. His senses, once dull and distant, snapped into sharp clarity.
He was cramped inside a narrow space. The stench of herbs and aged wood assaulted his nose. Moist air clung to his skin as he realized he was trapped—inside what felt like a barrel.
Outside, muffled screams echoed alongside the clash of steel, chaotic and desperate.
Once again, his body moved on its own.
He pushed the wooden lid open just enough to peer the world outside.
Flames devoured the night sky. Corpses littered the ground. In the distance, a lone figure dressed in white fought against multiple assassins, moving with deadly grace and overwhelming power.
'So this is how the Yang family fell…'
His gaze drifted over pools of blood reflecting the moonlight, over collapsing beams as fire consumed the estate.
'Quite ordinary,' he muttered to himself
Still, he etched the assassins' features into his mind—just in case.
But then, a chill crept down his spine.
His eyes shifted on their own, drawn toward something amidst the flames.
A small, shadowy figure stood there, as if born from the fire of malevolence itself.
A young boy.
Identical to him—to Yang Huo, the match broken only by eyes that gleamed with terrifying malice.
But before he could react, the world cracked.
Not faded.
Cracked.
Like a fragile mirror struck by a hammer.
The sound of shattering glass echoed as reality fragmented around him. Within the shards, countless memories flashed past—
a young Yang Huo training relentlessly—
or him bleeding alone in an unknown cavern—
or a red-masked man whispering into his ears—
or him lying amidst corpses, his face drenched in blood.
As he tried to make sense of these fragments, some of them drifted toward him, diffusing into his body. Brief flashes of knowledge, sensations, and emotions seeped into his mind, blurring the line between what was foreign and familiar.
When the final fragment dissolved, he awoke, as though from a long, dreamless sleep.
DING!
[Body and Soul synchronization has reached 20%!]
The System has Returned
Yang Huo's eyes snapped open, greeted by the familiar darkness of the void realm. As he pushed himself into a sitting position, a sharp, stinging pain surged through his head, halting him mid-motion.
All at once, it felt as though a lock deep within his consciousness had shattered.
Knowledge surged forth from the depths of his mind, flooding him with fragments of worldly understanding.
The influx was overwhelming, leaving him dizzy and nauseous. His stomach churned uncomfortably, but despite the physical discomfort, Yang Huo's focus remained on the chaos unfolding in his mind.
Before he could steady himself, a screen flickered into his shaky vision, accompanied by a familiar, cheery voice.
[Did you miss me, Host?]
Though the owl was nowhere to be seen, Yang Huo instantly recognized the tone.
The System had returned.
[No need to be shy. I'm sure you did!]
[Anyway, congrats on your synchronization!] it continued, punctuating the words with a cheerful, celebratory toot.
Yang Huo didn't respond.
His attention remained fixed on the chaos unfolding inside his mind, sorting through the flood of information piece by piece. His silence was deliberate.
Oblivious to his indifference, the System continued.
[Hehe, are you wondering what Body and Soul synchronization means?]
[It's very simple actually! It's—]
“Quiet.” The word cut through the System’s chatter, edged with annoyance.
[...Eh?]
The System faltered, momentarily stunned by the coldness in his tone.
H-Had it been gone for too long? Was Yang Huo angry that it disappeared without notice?
Yang Huo's gaze sharpened at the interface. 'Will you answer me if I ask where I am right now?'
When the System heard his sudden question, it hesitated. It naturally knew the answer—but…
He pressed further, the edge in his tone cutting. 'Will you answer me if I ask how Yang Huo is still alive?'
[W-well...]
That was enough.
Yang Huo had long since learned that the System rarely gave anything away for free. It wouldn't even bother informing him that he was a guest in the Su residence. Expecting it to explain something this critical now would be laughable.
'Do you not see the situation I'm in?' he said. 'I've been dragged into god-knows-what, stabbed in the back by a dead person, forced to relive their memories, only to wake up alive, yet still trapped in this place—with the enemy nowhere to be seen.'
At first, his words carried a sharp irritation, but as he spoke, the edge dulled. The emotions drained from his voice, leaving a detached, matter-of-fact delivery.
'So unless you have something useful to help me right now,' he concluded flatly, 'be quiet.'
The System fell silent... before replying meekly.
[Y-yes…]
It felt wronged, all it wanted was to congratulate him. Why did it got scolded? Didn't you miss me?
But Yang Huo's commanding presence was too overwhelming. To say anything more felt... unwise.
After removing the distraction, Yang Huo no longer had his attention on the System anymore.
Body and Soul synchronization.
The term itself was self-explanatory. With a bit of deduction, it was likely triggered by his death.
That wasn't hard to infer on his own.
Right now, the priority was to get out of this accursed place. And figuring out why that suddenly-alive-man was nowhere to be seen.
Yang Huo's mind churned as he began analyzing.
The first clue came from the System itself. The person it declared dead had supposedly been alive—alive enough to stab him, no less. Yet the System showed no signs of alarm or acknowledgment to this. Strange.
The System may be stingy, but it had no reason to lie—at least, deception didn't seem to be within its nature. If it had been wrong about something as critical as the original Yang Huo's death, it wouldn't have brushed it off so casually.
'Could it be… that wasn't the real Yang Huo?' he mused.
Assuming Yang Huo was truly dead, who—or what—had attacked him?
Whoever it was, they knew about the body possession. Which alone was already puzzling. After all, he had only arrived in this world mere hours ago.
If this imposter had been close to the original Yang Huo, it made even less sense. What kind of person would stage such a grotesque charade—pretending to be a dead man returned to life—only to strike once before vanishing?
Just to terrify him?
Yang Huo's gaze swept across his surroundings. The void remained infinite and featureless, offering no answers. Darkness stretched endlessly around him, swallowing every direction.
He was utterly alone in this unending abyss.
'Just where the hell am I?'
One moment, he had been sitting in the guest room. The next, that person had dragged him into this surreal realm, right under the noses of the Su family experts.
How?
The synchronization hadn’t granted him the original body’s memories.
Instead, it had filled him with ingrained, common knowledge—concepts so basic they operated beneath conscious thought. Meridians. Cultivation stages. Social hierarchies. Even the rough prices of mundane goods.
At first glance, it seemed mediocre. But to him, it was invaluable.
As someone new to this world, information—especially the kind everyone took for granted—was his greatest limitation.
This senses filled that gap, allowing him to piece together the basics of this world's logic.
And it was precisely this clarity that made the strangeness of this realm all the more apparent.
This abstract, undefined space was too intricate and bizarre for just anyone to create. Those capable of such a feat wouldn't need such a convoluted method to kill him.
Yang Huo lowered his gaze, inspecting his chest. Not a single speck of blood marred his robes, not even a tear where the blade had pierced. His clothing was pristine, free from dust or wear. It was as though the stabbing had never happened.
'Healing me is one thing,' he thought, eyes narrowing. 'But my clothes too? What am I supposed to believe? That this person reversed time and space to undo it all?'
Absurd.
The simpler explanation was that this was a property of the realm itself.
An illusionary space, perhaps.
But if it was merely mental manipulation, how had it triggered Body and Soul synchronization?
That process didn't seem like something that could occur without a significant catalyst. It should require more than mere mental manipulation.
As he considered confirming the synchronization's trigger with the System, a sudden thought cut through his analysis.
Until now, he had assumed Su Meiying's necklace was the key to his being transported here—a medium used to pull him into this place, or perhaps even the realm itself.
It was a reasonable assumption.
But… what if he was wrong?
