"Brother Xiao Yan, Brother Xiao Yan!!"
"Yan'er!"
Amidst the blurred voices that penetrated his consciousness, Xiao Yan stirred. His brows furrowed faintly as he regained awareness, his body jolting slightly from the sudden reawakening. The familiar tones of concern echoed in his ears, and as his eyes slowly adjusted to the surroundings, he recognized two familiar figures—Xun'er and his father, Xiao Zhan.
A wave of confusion swept over him.
"Where… Where am I?" he thought silently, eyes darting between the two.
He recognized the architecture, the scent of the air, and the familiar feeling in his Dou Qi sea. It all pointed to one conclusion.
"I should be back on the Dou Qi Continent," he affirmed internally. "This... this must be the past."
Memories of a catastrophic battle began resurfacing. The battle that had altered everything. The end of the Great Thousand World.
"Brother Xiao Yan, are you alright?" Xun'er's delicate voice broke through his thoughts, laced with deep concern.
Xiao Yan's gaze softened as he looked at her. She appeared so young—barely twelve years old. A stark contrast from the woman who had stood beside him through centuries of conflict.
"I am fine," he replied, nodding slightly and raising his hand to gently pat her head. "Just need some rest."
He then turned to his father, observing the subtle lines of worry etched across Xiao Zhan's face. A rare display of vulnerability from the otherwise composed clan head.
"I'm sorry for worrying you, Father," Xiao Yan said softly, a gentle smile appearing on his face. "You can rest assured. I am well."
Xiao Zhan nodded, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly. "Yan'er, go to your room and rest. I have some matters to attend to at the reception hall."
"Yes, Father," Xiao Yan responded respectfully.
With a brief glance back, Xiao Zhan turned and began walking toward the family hall. The soft rustling of his robes was the only sound that lingered in the air.
Once his father was out of sight, Xiao Yan turned back to Xun'er. His mood lightened considerably at the sight of her youthful innocence.
Holding her hand gently, he teased, "You're growing more charming by the day. Aren't you afraid I might take advantage of you?"
Xun'er's cheeks flushed a deep crimson. The embarrassment overwhelmed her so swiftly that she instinctively turned her head, attempting to hide her face behind her long hair.
Before she could make her escape, Xiao Yan reached out and pulled her gently into his lap. His arms wrapped around her from behind in a warm, protective embrace.
"Stay still," he whispered, his voice low and calming.
Despite the years—or perhaps because of them—Xiao Yan still remembered every minute detail about her. Her favorite foods, her preferred styles of cultivation, and even the subtle places she enjoyed being touched. It was muscle memory now, an imprint left by centuries of companionship.
A faint, crimson hue spread across Xun'er's ears and cheeks. She bit her lower lip shyly but did not resist.
"Okay," she murmured in agreement.
For a moment, silence prevailed. But Xiao Yan's mind was far from still. The battle—the true catalyst of his return—echoed through his memory.
It had been him and Lin Dong, the Martial Ancestor, fighting together against the Monarch of the Evil Race. Their power had shaken the heavens and burned the realms. Despite their combined might, they lost. The Great Thousand World collapsed into nothingness. Its people, its civilizations, everything was swallowed by the annihilating tide of darkness.
At the last moment, Lin Dong had made a desperate move. He had called upon the power of the ancestral talismans—his life's culmination—to reverse time. Using his remaining essence, he had opened a temporal rift and forcefully sent Xiao Yan back to an earlier point in the timeline.
"He said that he absorbed every ounce of strength his world could offer," Xiao Yan recalled. "But he could only reach the Heavenly Sovereign level. And I… I still have more to achieve."
Before vanishing, Lin Dong had entrusted Xiao Yan with the essence of all eight ancestral talismans. But to avoid disruption of the flow of time, he had sealed their powers into eight unassuming rocks. These now lay dormant within Xiao Yan's body, hidden from detection but ready to awaken when needed.
Xiao Yan snapped back to reality as Xun'er shifted slightly in his embrace. A small smile curled his lips as he looked at her once more.
Seeing her again—alive, vibrant, untouched by the tragedies to come—rekindled something within him.
"Allies, lovers, comrades… the regrets I carry will be buried in this life. I vow to fulfill every promise left unkept," he thought solemnly.
"Brother Xiao Yan… aren't you hugging me a little too tightly?" Xun'er asked shyly, squirming slightly in his arms.
Xiao Yan leaned forward and whispered in her ear, "Can't I even hug my future wife? If you're this embarrassed over a simple hug, how will you handle it once I truly claim you?"
Xun'er's face turned redder than a ripened cherry. Her eyes widened, and without a second word, she bolted from his lap, her hands covering her face in sheer embarrassment.
Xiao Yan chuckled softly. "If it had been the Xun'er from my past life, she would've smirked and whispered, 'Why don't you try it now?'"
The thought of those memories—of battles fought, laughter shared, and hardships endured—stirred a mix of warmth and sorrow in his chest.
He sat back, exhaling deeply.
"But now," he muttered, "there's one more thing I must do…"
His thoughts drifted once more—to Yao Lao, his teacher.
A legend among Alchemists. A mentor who had guided him through the fiery trials of his youth. A friend who had sacrificed so much for him.
"How do I wake Teacher up?" he pondered.
Yao Lao's soul had been sealed in a ring during Xiao Yan's earlier years, and only after many trials had Xiao Yan managed to reform his master's body. But now, after returning to the past, the process had to begin anew.
He closed his eyes and began to examine the spiritual imprint within his ring. Even now, the faint flicker of Yao Lao's soul flame remained. Weak, but steady.
Xiao Yan's spiritual sense probed gently.