The river engulfed Yuan Xia whole, pressing into his wound and seeping through his robes to extinguish his remaining warmth. Water flooded his mouth, forcing its way down his throat, choking him. Yuan Xia’s vision faded. Sometimes white, sometimes bck. His body ached with pain.

  But to his surprise, his conscience stayed clear.

  Yuan Xia found himself praying. Although he carried the burdensome title of ‘Demon Lord’, he’d never had a strong ambition in his life. To that end, he didn’t have many regrets either. Nor had he shed blood, or plundered, or committed immoral acts….

  Thinking back, he’d acted more like a figurehead rather than an actual force of evil.

  Meeting Hua ChunMing, however, had brought interest into Yuan Xia’s otherwise empty days. He could only ment about not encountering the Righteous Leader sooner.

  …

  Well, they only met about three times.

  In the frigid waters, Yuan Xia grimaced.

  But each meeting held its weight, enough for Yuan Xia to store them in the deepest recess of his mind. If Yuan Xia could reincarnate, he’d try his best to become steadfast friends with Hua ChunMing.

  As Yuan Xia rued in the past, an indigo light fluoresced around him, bringing about a sudden weightlessness. He peeked open one eye, tentative.

  A tunnel of electricity greeted him.

  Wisps of lightning coursed through the tunnel like clouds, flowing over, through, past Yuan Xia, overwhelming his senses. The sparks of blue and fshes of indigo reminded him of something, or rather, someone, but he didn’t get a chance to think any deeper.

  Because, amidst the twinkling of energy, Yuan Xia sat up on a hard, cobblestone ground.

  He froze for a moment, stunned, until he heard a chorus of snickers circling him. Water drenched his hair and clothes. and his head felt heavy as if a fog had taken over. But the water, a tepid temperature, had none of the subzero qualities of Snow Valley River.

  Yuan Xia gnced up. The silhouettes of the children huddled around him blended and merged with one another, overpping like watercolour waves. Hazy, just out of focus, as obscure as a washed ink painting. He brought his hands to his face, feeling for his eyes, and rubbed them with force. But this did nothing for his vision—it only made his eyes sting.

  The outlines of the children moved at this moment. Checking for signs of consciousness, one of them reached out, their actions hesitant, and smacked Yuan Xia on the forehead.

  His head jerked up as he caught the child’s chubby wrist. It didn’t even fit in his hand.

  In an instant, the surroundings turned silent.

  Yuan Xia heard a water bucket drop to the ground.

  “Wahhhh!!!!!!!” One of the boys fell to the floor and wailed in fright.

  “The blind-dumb-mute can move!!!” Another boy’s feet shuffled. Yuan Xia heard him trip over the wailing boy, who just cried louder.

  Yuan Xia traced his head with his palms, muffling his ears to block out the noise. Even in his past life, he hadn’t dealt with so much sound. He turned towards the deafening boy and shot him a gre.

  A collective gasp shocked the bullies into silence once again.

  “Everyone, run! He’s going to get us!” A girl’s shriek reverberated, followed by the thundering of many small feet.

  Soon, Yuan Xia could only make out the shapes of buildings and the haloes of nterns, save for the blob of children that oscilted away. His breathing sounded magnified, his heartbeat like a drum in his chest. The taste of bitter water dripped from his open mouth, and the smell of sewage assaulted his nose.

  But his vision had clouded over, showing nothing but light and faint colour.

  As soon as Yuan Xia tossed his citrine earring at Hua ChunMing, he’d lost his ability to see.

  Akin to a blessing, this gift of sight had brought him jubition from the moment he took that earring. The world had rushed at him like a hawk to its prey, filling his senses, forcing a path for something new, something big: hue and form, depth and perception, reality and fantasy. Everything he experienced reconstructed his past.

  Yet that past had returned.

  Yuan Xia didn’t know whether to feel relieved or distressed. On one hand, he found the veil of haze nostalgic. On the other, after having experienced such a colourful and vivid world, he wondered if he’d adapt well to the change. But he couldn’t do anything at the moment.

  Instead, he patted down his robes, hoping for a teleported sunbrel or blue bell hairpiece. This would at least confirm his timeline.

  But the more Yuan Xia traced down, the more armed he grew. Not only did his shoulders shrink, his proportions had also shifted. The wound at his chest left no scar, and his clothing consisted of a singur sopping rag.

  Bringing his hands up, Yuan Xia flexed each finger, then pinched his face. He felt a thin yer of baby fat. Even his hair had grown shorter, falling to his shoulders instead of his knees.

  This situation….

  Had becoming blind ruined his perception of distance?

  Yuan Xia shook his head and considered another possibility. But it sounded so far-fetched that he had to resist the urge to ignore it.

  … Could he have gone back in time?

  Leaning against the wall for support, Yuan Xia staggered onto his feet. The Summer Sun teased at his toes, forcing him back into the shadows. With how dizzy and parched he felt, he found himself admirable for not having fallen yet.

  Like the wings of a butterfly, his pupils shook thrice.

  Following the wall into a dim alleyway, Yuan Xia stopped to catch his breath. His current form had no strength nor stamina, and he had to sit down again to stop the blood rushing to his head.

  As he waited to recover, Yuan Xia wondered about the children who threw dirty water at him. Did they ck morals? Or did they believe him an easy target? In any case, Yuan Xia felt he had to investigate.

  From the end of the alleyway, Yuan Xia heard the crash of a gong. This invigorated his low spirit, and he stood on shaky legs to reach the light.

  A ntern’s halo first entered his sight, followed by the ebbing and flowing of hundreds of figures. Shielding his eyes, Yuan Xia emerged from the darkness, finding himself in a sea of festivity. Lining the streets, hawkers stood by their stalls, and anywhere Yuan Xia turned he could hear a string of conversations.

  Just from the bright, oversaturated pigments Yuan Xia could make out, he recognized that he had not gone back to his childhood. Rather, he appeared to have resurrected in the timeline after his death.

  This realization scared Yuan Xia a bit. He couldn’t pinpoint his exact year. What if that Righteous Leader died without him knowing…?

  A teal blob drifted into view.

  Yuan Xia turned his head up, balling his hands into fists. He may have no strength, but if tooth came to nail, he’d fight back.

  However, the figure kneeled, betraying Yuan Xia’s violent expectations. He breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Child, do you need anything?” A gentle female voice coaxed from above.

  Yuan Xia shook his head. He opened his mouth, intending to expin his situation, when a burning smell drew his attention. He turned to the stall, and upon seeing the fire, his eyes grew wide.

  All of a sudden, he couldn’t breathe.

  Fragments of memory pgued his mind, weakening his spirit, heightening his vigince, and threatening to tear him apart.

  The halo of nterns.

  A festive atmosphere.

  All crumbling down in bzing fmes.

  The crackling nearby magnified by a hundredfold. Yuan Xia wrapped his hands around his own throat and fell to the floor, trembling. He stifled his voice, fearing that if he even whispered, he’d see the vilge colpse before his eyes.

  “Child? What’s wrong?” The hawker shifted her weight, pulling Yuan Xia from the ground and onto her p. In panic, she tore his hands from his throat. A surge of air rushed into his lungs.

  He could breathe again.

  Gasping, Yuan Xia’s chest rose and fell with short, heavy heaves. He clung to the hawker like a grapevine to a tree, refusing to let go even as she pushed him away. A bead of sweat trailed down Yuan Xia’s cheek, falling to the hawker’s teal robes and matting them a darker shade.

  But before the hawker could call for help, she heard a frantic voice call from afar.

  “Yuan Xia!”

  Yuan Xia snapped awake. He released his grasp on the hawker and turned to the sound, his lips parted in stupefaction.

  Did he just hear his own name?

  After Yuan Xia established his position as the Demon Lord, his very name had become synonymous to evil itself. No one dared to even call their child ‘Yuan’ or ‘Xia’ anymore.

  So to hear the name called from a stranger’s mouth… A shiver ran up Yuan Xia’s spine, and he grew alert. Soon, a silhouette of warm colours—pink, orange, white—hastened in his direction. She cried out his name again.

  “Yuan Xia! Where are you!”

  This time, the hawker shoved Yuan Xia at the woman. He couldn’t hide.

  “Is this your child? Please discipline him better.” With a huff, the hawker stood and brushed out her teal uniform.

  “Ah— Yes! Did he cause you any trouble?” The woman dressed in floral colours grabbed Yuan Xia by the shoulders. “I’m sorry, his mental constitution is….”

  Yuan Xia froze for a moment. Then, he retaliated.

  With a life-dependent struggle, Yuan Xia threw a punch at the stranger woman. She jumped when his fist made contact—not because he’d hit her, but because he’d moved of his own viotion.

  “Yuan Xia?! Did your spirit return?” A twinkle of joy entered the woman’s voice. She held Yuan Xia by the armpits and raised him into a comfortable, practiced hold. “Tomorrow, let’s take a visit to the Doctor. He’ll be ecstatic!”

  A ringing noise grew louder in Yuan Xia’s head. His pupils shook. The sounds around him fell to the background, and only confusion remained. With no strength to retaliate, and no powerful ally to rely on in this dangerous situation, Yuan Xia bit his lower lip in shame as the strange woman carried him away.