Chen An left, leaving the girl standing alone, dazed in the wind. Whether she ended up jumping or not was none of his concern. At this point, his heart was unnervingly calm, like a pool of dead water that couldn't ripple even if stirred.
As he walked down from the rooftop, the distant sounds of students roughhousing in the hallway began to drift through the air.
His mood lightened a bit too, perhaps because for the first time he could feel the various functions of his body working as they should—something he had never experienced before.
He had once been a severe congenital heart disease patient. The doctors diagnosed him at birth and bluntly declared that the child probably wouldn't live to adulthood. And yet, here he was at seventeen.
If nothing unexpected happened, he would have quietly died sometime next year. Came into the world in a rush, and would leave it just as fast. Always alone—that was how it had always been.
But Chen An wasn't an orphan. He had parents. It's just that when they found out their newborn son had a life-threatening heart defect, they quickly made a decision. Since the main account was broken, why not start a new one?
But the family wasn't well off. Raising two kids at once stretched their resources thin. So one night, the child clearly marked for early death was abandoned without question.
Luckily, those parents still had a scrap of conscience. They didn't toss him into the wild to be eaten by dogs. Instead, they left him at the gate of a nameless welfare home in the countryside.
The director of the welfare home was known for miles around as a kind man. Of course he wouldn't ignore the baby left at his door. When he heard the noise outside, he glanced at the pitch-dark night through the window and had a good idea of what had happened.
The director was still in decent health then. Groping around in the dark, he got up, grabbed a coat from the hook behind the door, and stepped out under the moonlight toward the iron gate.
In the stillness of night, the iron gate creaked loudly as it opened. There on the steps sat a bamboo basket, woven from thin reeds, sitting there all alone. The director walked forward, quickly covering the infant inside with the coat before gently picking him up.
He studied the child's tiny face, which was curled in peaceful sleep, and a smile slowly formed on his deeply wrinkled face. The baby was just too cute. He reached out with his rough, yellowed hand and gently wiped the baby's cheek.
"From now on, you'll come with me," he said softly.
Then he noticed a slip of paper tucked into the baby's collar. On it was a single written character—Chen.
So, the family name was Chen? The director stroked his chin, looked down at the sleeping infant again, and sighed.
"Let's just hope you can grow up safe and sound. You'll be called… Chen An."
----------
In the Divine Continent.
Su Chichi returned once again to that mountain forest. It was the secluded place she had lived in with him for twenty years.
"You regret it, don't you?"
A long sigh suddenly echoed in her mind, causing her to stop in her tracks. She stood still, her face emotionless.
"My conscience is clear. What is there to regret?" She answered back coldly.
To personally kill the one who murdered her parents—only satisfaction, never regret. Regret didn't belong here.
Ten years ago, when he let her leave the mountain to gain worldly experience, fate had already begun to turn its gears. It all started when she stumbled upon that memory stone.
Everything about the so-called bond between master and disciple, the years of supposed care and nurturing—it was all just a lie.
The voice in her mind paused, then spoke again.
"The memory stone can't be faked, true. But if you only hear half the story, the answer you reach might be the complete opposite, don't you think?"
Her expression finally changed. Her long, narrow eyes narrowed dangerously.
"What do you mean?"
That voice had appeared in her mind a month before she killed her master. At first, she thought it was her inner demon. But even after she struck it down and stepped into the tribulation realm, the voice remained.
It had no form or shadow. Even with her current cultivation, she couldn't see through its origin.
The voice let out a chilling laugh.
"Let me take you through it again—this time from your master's perspective. See the whole thing through his eyes."
Su Chichi looked slightly confused but didn't immediately reject the idea.
"His… perspective?" she murmured.
Fine. Let's see what kind of tricks this thing is planning to play.
In the southern part of the Divine Continent, there was a long, winding, and majestic river. It flowed north to south, bringing rich resources to every place it touched.
Live off the mountains if you live near them, live off the water if it flows by your door. Su Village sat at the river's upper reaches.
By sunset, the village entrance should have been lively and full of playing children. But it was deathly silent. Not a sound, not a single laugh. That wasn't normal.
Thick, dark-red blood trailed from the village entrance, flowing slowly outward. Blood—blood was everywhere. It painted all of Su Village in a demonic haze.
The muddy paths were lined with bodies, men who had gone out hunting, women who had stayed to cook and wash, even children not yet three feet tall.
The scent of blood thickened in the air. It was like a scene from hell.
Suddenly, a tiny head poked out of a rice bin. It was a little girl with a small braid. Her pale, round face still had some baby fat. She stared blankly out at the bloodbath before her.
She was clearly too shocked by what she saw. Her mouth hung slightly open, her eyes wide. Then her little nose twitched, and she burst into tears.
She tried to climb out of the rice bin, crawling toward the fallen bodies one step at a time. Her soft hands were quickly dirtied by mud and scraped by sharp stones.
The pain was sharp and relentless. Blood was everywhere, wet and sticky, and she couldn't even tell if the blood on her hands was hers or someone else's.
"Daddy…" She cried out, her face full of helplessness and confusion.
They were all dead. Her father, her mother, the neighbor Uncle Wang who used to tease her, Auntie Huang who had the loudest voice in the village, and Er Ya, the little girl who always followed her around… all of them… gone.
Though she had only just begun to form lasting memories, the pain was still too much to bear. Her tears poured out uncontrollably, soaking her face.
Plip, plip.
Suddenly, footsteps echoed nearby. Before she could look up, someone lifted her gently from under the arms. She rubbed her red, swollen eyes, still sniffing, but finally got a clear look at the person's face.
It was a young man.
He wore a blue Daoist robe, his hair loose, and his face calm with a natural grace between his brows.
"An immortal…" The little girl stared, her tears forgotten.
She had never seen anyone so beautiful before. She immediately assumed he was one of the immortals her father had told her about.
The "immortal" gently wiped the tears from her face and sighed.
"Still arrived too late…" He pulled her close into his arms and covered her eyes with his hand.
"Don't look." His voice was soft, with a warmth that eased the soul.
So the little girl obediently shut her eyes, not looking anymore.
"Good girl," he said with a smile. "From now on, you'll come with me. Your name will be… Su Chichi."
"So what?" Su Chichi stared coldly at the scene before her. "How is this different from my memory?"
"Don't rush," the voice replied. "Keep watching."