"What did you think? That I'd fall in love with a worthless man like you?" Yuan qingmei's voice dripped with disdain. "No money, no name—you're a loser. Compared to you, Mr. Feng Yuji is a thousand times better."
And with that, she kissed Feng Yuze right in front of him.
Ye Chen's heart shattered into pieces. He loved her—he had worked countless part-time jobs just to fulfill her every whim—but she had betrayed him.
He had failed even to keep his mother happy. She had been ignored, neglected, until the illness took her away. Now, there was nothing left in his life but regret. He had been cast out of his own family, along with his mother, because they were weak. His mother had come from a simple family, while the ye family was one of the most powerful in China. After his grandfather died, his father had thrown his mother and him out to live with his second wife.
Rage surged through ye Chen as he stepped forward. "I won't let you get away with this!"
Before he could strike, Feng Yuze's fist collided with his chest, sending him flying across the floor. Pain exploded from his mouth.
And then realization hit: Feng Yuji was a cultivator—a Foundation-level cultivator. A Chen's eyes burned with fury as he stared at him.
Yuan qingmei watched him with a cruel smile. "Oh, hurting, is it? Let me share a secret—something that will make the pain even sweeter. Your mother didn't die of illness… she was poisoned, removed from the path deliberately."
The words froze ye Chen's heart. Poisoned? All these years, he had believed his mother had died of sickness… but she had been murdered intentionally.
Rage and disbelief painted his eyes crimson. He steadied himself. "Who did this to my mother? Tell me!"
A red aura flared from his body, unnoticed even by him, crackling like fire around him.
Wingmei's smile widened. "That… you'll have to figure out yourself. Impossible for a loser like you."
Fueled by fury, ye Chen lunged forward again, aiming to end this with a single strike. Feng Yuji, unfazed, laughed. "Your little punch is worthless, Chen."
But when their fists collided, a sharp crack echoed—Yuji's hand bone shattered. A Chen froze, shocked. That wasn't supposed to happen. Before he could process it, a searing pain ripped through his abdomen.
He looked down. A sword had pierced him from behind.
He spun around, his vision catching a man clad in black, face obscured. Shadow Guards. Elite enforcers of the ye family, who obeyed only the head of the family. Could his father have ordered this?
Ye Chen crumpled to the ground. His vision blurred as he whispered, "Mother… forgive me. I was a terrible son… I never gave you love, only pain. If I have another chance in my next life, I will give you all the happiness in the world…"
His breaths slowed and then ceased.
Feng Yuji held his hand, his tone sharp. "How dare this loser break my hand?"
Qingmei's voice teased, "Brother Yuji, it didn't hurt you too much, did it? Chen didn't even know cultivation… so how could he hurt you? Maybe he was secretly cultivating?"
Yuji laughed. "What difference does it make now? He's dead."
The shadow guard disappeared like smoke. Feng Yuji and Kingmei got into a car and drove away.
But then, the pendant around A Chen's neck began to glow, radiating light that covered his entire body.
"Chen… Chen, wake up. It's time for school," a soft, gentle voice called.
He jolted awake, blinking rapidly. His mother stood before him. He glanced around—the room was his six-year-old self's bedroom. He checked the clock and froze. 2024. He had really gone back six years. And in front of him… his mother truly stood there.
Ye Jiang smiled, watching her son stare. "What's the matter, Chen? Why are you staring at me like that?"
Chen, overwhelmed by emotion, threw himself into her arms, tears streaming. Years of unspoken pain and longing surged out of him.
Seeing him cry, Jiang stroked his head. "Why are you crying, Chen?"
He realized he had become too emotional. Holding her tightly, he whispered, "Nothing, mother… just a bad dream."
Jiang smiled warmly. "Alright, now get ready quickly. Breakfast is ready, or it'll get cold."
Chen nodded.
After breakfast, he left home. As he walked, he noticed a sword-shaped mark on his hand—the mark that had appeared when he had woken. Dark, foreboding, yet he couldn't understand its meaning.
Suddenly, a voice called from behind. "Chen! Chen!"
He turned. Zhau Mingkai—his closest friend—stood there, looking surprised. "How did you recover so fast? Shen Fei and his friends beat you so badly yesterday… yet your body bears no marks. How?"
Chen recalled his past life, the days of weakness, being bullied and beaten relentlessly. And yet, last night, his injuries had healed overnight. His eyes fell on the sword mark. Could this be the reason?
Before he could dwell further, a sharp kick came near his head. Reflexively, he dodged, whirling to face the attacker. His eyes flared crimson with rage.