Wang Hao's vision swam back into focus, the lingering edges of darkness retreating like morning mist burned away by the rising sun. Slowly, as if reluctant to fully return, the haze that had clouded his senses began to lift, and indistinct shapes gradually solidified into recognizable forms.
And then,he saw her.
She stood a short distance away, framed by the weak, flickering glow of the oil lamp,a stark silhouette etched in steel and silence. Her hair, the color of a starless night sky, cascaded down her back, shimmering faintly in the dim light like strands catching the last ethereal gleam of a dying star. And her eyes,they were a startling, unforgettable blue, the color of glacial ice, utterly still and unreadable.
They reminded him of the frozen surface of a vast, ancient lake, a surface so cold and deep it seemed to have never known the touch of the wind.
Her clothing was layered and practical, the dark fabric whispering softly with the slightest movement, hinting at resilience and purpose.
Protective bracers wrapped her wrists, glinting faintly in the lamplight, and sturdy shoulder guards sat firmly upon her shoulders. Strapped belts cinched her waist, and tall, weather-worn boots spoke of long journeys undertaken across harsh and unforgiving terrain.
But even more telling than what she wore was the way she stood,with an unwavering stillness, a quiet strength that seemed to have been forged by enduring hardship, the posture of someone accustomed to facing the world alone.
The old floorboards creaked gently beneath her soft steps as she moved closer. She carried a simple, earthenware bowl in her hands, and from it, thin, delicate tendrils of steam curled upward like ghostly fingers reaching for the cool night air.
She knelt beside him, her movements surprisingly graceful despite her sturdy attire. With both hands, she offered him the bowl.
"Drink this medicine, brother."
Her voice was calm and steady, the tone low and even. It held a quiet authority, the kind that comes from experience and perhaps a position of responsibility, yet it was also laced with a subtle, almost hesitant care.
Wang Hao blinked, his mind still struggling to reconcile the fragmented memories swirling within him. Brother? The word echoed the girl's from the previous encounter, a label that felt both alien and strangely familiar.
His body hesitated, stiff and sore. The girl's voice sounded… familiar, a faint echo in the fog of his memory, but the face that peered down at him remained that of a complete stranger. Still, despite the unfamiliarity, there was no hint of threat in her steady gaze, only a genuine concern that felt real, even if unspoken.
Before he could formulate a response, her hand slipped gently behind his head, supporting him with a surprising strength that seemed to cost her no effort.
"Just a little. You need it."
The rim of the bowl touched his chapped lips. He tilted his head back slightly, and the dark, viscous liquid slid into his mouth.
Bitter. Intensely sharp. With an earthy undertone that reminded him faintly of damp soil. It clung to his tongue like something alive, something unwilling to be swallowed.
He grimaced, his face contorting involuntarily at the unpleasant taste.
"This stuff is awful…" he mumbled, his voice still raspy and weak.
Her expression didn't change,
remaining calm and neutral, but a single dark brow arched slightly, a silent indication of dry humor at his complaint.
"It'll keep you alive. You can complain later," she replied, her voice firm but not unkind.
She gently set the empty bowl aside. Her gaze returned to his, steady and unreadable, those icy blue eyes seeming to peer right through him.
"Shi Yao… stay here. I'll return soon."
That name again. Shi Yao. It echoed in his skull, a soft but heavy weight, feeling like a name that had always belonged to him, nestled in the hidden corners of his mind… and yet, simultaneously alien and new.
He wanted to ask so many questions that clawed at his throat: Where are we? Why am I here? Why me? But the quiet authority in her tone allowed no room for debate, no questioning of her words.
She stood up, her movements fluid and efficient. Then, with a final, silent glance, she turned and was gone, disappearing back through the creaking door, leaving him alone once more in the dimly lit room.
He leaned back against the cold, rough wall, a shiver tracing its way down his spine. The pervasive chill of the room seemed to seep into his very bones, a cold that no blanket could truly dispel. Outside, the leaves on unseen trees rustled faintly in the gentle night breeze, a soft, whispering murmur that only emphasized the silence within. Above him, the ancient wooden beams of the ceiling groaned softly, like an old house breathing in its sleep, settling deeper into the embrace of the night.
Then it hit him,a sudden, violent wave of pain that ripped through his skull.
White-hot. Sharp. Unexpected. It felt like a spike being driven through both his temples, an unbearable agony that stole his breath.
He gasped, his hands flying to his head, his fingers instinctively pressing against his throbbing temples, trying to trap the agonizing pressure clawing through his mind.
And then, memories crashed into his consciousness like a rogue wave, a chaotic torrent of fragmented images and sensations. Shards of the past, then more coherent shapes, and finally, fleeting but vivid scenes.
A younger boy, smaller than he was now. Bruised. Powerless. Fear radiating from him in waves.
Meridians severed. The word echoed in his mind, cold and clinical, yet carrying a weight of profound loss. He felt a crushing sense of isolation, a terrible aloneness.
No father's comforting voice to soothe his pain. No mother's gentle hand to wipe away his tears. Only the figure of a girl standing tall beside him,a sister, her small form radiating a fierce, unyielding determination. She was a solitary beacon of light in a world that felt like it was collapsing around him.
Her face surfaced in his mind, no longer a stranger, but now sharp and clear, blazing with a fierce resolve that seemed to defy the darkness.
His breath came in sharp, ragged gasps through clenched teeth as he fought to endure the onslaught of pain and the flood of unfamiliar memories.
Slowly, gradually, the searing pain began to recede, fading like distant thunder rolling away across the horizon.
Wang Hao,no, Shi Yao, he corrected himself instinctively,rubbed his throbbing temples, the fragmented memories settling into something resembling coherence. He whispered the unfamiliar words to himself, testing their feel on his tongue.
"So… this place is called Tianlun World."
The name tasted foreign, yet somehow also felt intrinsically real, as if a forgotten part of himself was finally stirring awake.
His eyes roamed the dimly lit room, taking in the details with a newfound awareness: the rough-hewn planks of old wood, the damp earth floor, the shadows huddled in the corners like forgotten ghosts.
"A village… quiet… deep in the forest. Remote. Hidden. Forgotten."
He held up his unfamiliar hands, flexing the slender fingers, counting them slowly as more pieces of this strange new world slotted into place in his mind.
"Six continents… Northern, Southern, Central, Eastern, Western… and the Middle Continent."
Each name resonated within him, carrying with it more than just geographical locations. They were ideologies, cultures, long-standing divides that had shaped this world for centuries.
The Northern Expanse—a land of cruel, unforgiving cold, where survival was the only creed.
The Southern Kingdoms—a region of lush beauty, yet choked by rigid traditions and the endless feuds of powerful clans.
The Central Dominion—a realm veiled in layers of intricate diplomacy and long-held secrets.
The Eastern Reach—a storm-swept land ruled by enigmatic seers and the unpredictable dance of the stars, where ancient omens often carved destinies before the sharpest blades ever could.
The Western Wastes—scorched, broken lands, remnants of long-lost kingdoms. A desolate place where ambition went to slowly die.
And the Middle Continent—the vast, enigmatic unknown, a constantly shifting battleground of ancient myths and intertwined destinies.
His hand lowered, clenching into a soft fist as a wave of something akin to resignation washed over him.
"And I'm stuck in the Southern lands…"
The words left his lips with a bitter edge, almost a mocking self-deprecation at his current predicament.
A hollow laugh followed, short, dry, and utterly devoid of genuine amusement. Lifeless.
But beneath that empty sound, something else stirred within him. A faint flicker behind his weary eyes. A tiny spark in the encroaching darkness.
It wasn't just confusion or lingering pain. It was something sharper, something more resilient.
Defiance.
His gaze lifted towards the empty doorway where the mysterious girl had disappeared, his eyes narrowed in thought.
Who was she, this sister he didn't remember?
What unseen burden did she carry behind those calm, icy blue eyes?
And more importantly… who was he now?
Was he still Wang Hao, the scientist who had died saving a child? Or was he truly Shi Yao,the broken child with severed meridians and a future that felt buried in a silent, unknown past?
No.
The thought was a firm, resolute anchor in the storm of his confusion. Not buried. Not yet.
He pressed his hand to his chest, feeling the faint but steady rhythm of his heart beneath his palm. Uneven, perhaps, but undeniably beating.
The ache in his unfamiliar limbs wasn't just weakness; it was a tangible reminder of his continued existence. He was alive.
And if he was alive…
He whispered, his voice quiet but laced with an unexpected undercurrent of steel. " I'm not going to die here."
The wind outside whispered faintly through a crack in the old wood, carrying with it the scent of damp leaves and the promise of distant rain. He pulled the thin, rough blanket tighter over his aching body and let his head rest back against the wall.
He needed strength to face this unknown world. He needed time to understand what had happened to him. He needed information about this Tianlun World and the person he now seemed to be.
And most of all,he needed a plan.