Just as the six-elent energy reached an initial balance within the body, and the elentalization of the flesh entered the most crucial yet vulnerable deep waters, the side effect of the vast energy impacting the depths of the mind finally tore apart the defenses set by the top-grade Soul Dew, like a nightmare lurking for a long ti, suddenly attacking.
It wasn’t a direct pain, but a gentle yet irresistible sense of being dragged.
The clarity of Spirit’s determined will, as if stepping into the void, fell into an endless soft darkness.
All perceptions of energy, control over the body, execution of plans, all beca distant and blurry in an instant.
...
The sunlight was a bit glaring, carrying the unique dappled light and shadow of early sumr that filtered through the leaves.
The air was filled with the familiar scent of the classroom, mixing with chalk dust, old books, and the sll of youthful sweat.
The sound of the noisy recess, the squeaking of desks and chairs, the shouts of classmates chasing and playing, and the incessant cicada chorus from the old locust tree outside the window were constant in his ears.
Duke stood dazedly at the door of the classroom of Grade 2, Class 3, with a freshly handed out math test paper still slling of ink in his hand.
The bright red score of 138 was sowhat striking, and everything was so familiar that it made his heart tighten abruptly.
"Duke! What are you daydreaming about? The class teacher called you to the office!" A boy dressed in a blue and white school uniform, with a crew cut, patted him from behind, the sa mischievous deskmate in his mory.
Instinctively he turned around, his steps unsteady as he walked through the corridor.
Sunlight stread through the glass window, stretching his shadow long.
Everything was so real—the coolness of the tiles beneath his feet, the faded slogans of a hundred-day struggle on the wall, the half-dead green plant at the office door, and even the sll of the poor quality Jasmine tea brewed by the teacher next door wafted in the air.
...
Pushing open that familiar, paint-patched wooden door, he saw them.
No longer the forties, competent yet already showing fatigue figures from his mories.
His father sat heavily bent on the old rattan chair, his thinning grizzled hair, wearing reading glasses, struggling to read a newspaper in the window light.
His mother stood by, holding a thermos cup, her temples all white, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deep as if carved by a knife, speaking softly with the class teacher, her face etched with indelible, cautious worry.
Hearing the door open, they looked up simultaneously.
His mother’s eyes instantly reddened, walking quickly over, grabbing his arm.
Her hand was rough, freckled with age spots, yet incredibly strong, as if afraid he would disappear the next second.
"Little Ke... you’re back? It’s good you’re back, it’s good..." Her voice was hoarse, choked, repeating over and over.
His father put down the newspaper, took off his reading glasses, rubbed his cloudy eyes with the back of his hand, and let out a long sigh.
In that sigh, was the silent burden of decades, and an almost despairing sense of retention.
"This ti... don’t leave, okay? There’s nowhere... better than ho outside. Look at your mom, she’s always worried about you, can’t even sleep well. I... am old too."
The class teacher, the always stern little old man, surprisingly had a gentle tone: "Duke, your parents are getting old, and you’re their only child. Last ti you... were sick for so long, it worried them sick.
Though studies are important, family is the foundation.
Co back, study peacefully, get into a local college, safe and sound, wouldn’t that be nice?"
His mother’s grip tightened, her nails nearly piercing his flesh, tears rolling down: "Mom doesn’t ask for wealth or fa, really, not anymore... Mom just wants to see you every day, cook for you, watch you start a family... Don’t scare Mom again, don’t go to those... places Mom doesn’t know about... Co ho, okay?"
His father also stood up, his stooped figure appearing so fragile in the sunlight, his lips quivered, and he only repeated: "Co back... the family... needs you."
The sll of ho, the aging and imploring faces of his parents, the picture of a peaceful and stable future, and the secret longing for past tranquility suppressed by his long wizard journey...
All of this converged into a wave more overwhelming than any energy impact, instantly subrging Duke.
The dikes of reason were tottering, with a voice screaming madly: Stay! This is real! Those bizarre wizarding worlds, the endless pursuits and battles, are nothing but a weary dream! Here lies the parents you owe, the youth you’ve missed, the life you should have had.
His eyes brimd with heat, his throat clenched tight, almost uttering the word ’okay’.
Almost succumbing to this incredibly real, tangible warmth and guilt.
But just as that string was about to snap—
At the deepest point of the Spiritual Sea, the Six-elent Composite Crystal, having undergone crystalization, rged with Divine Status, and witnessed countless monts of life, death, and choice, suddenly vibrated.
It didn’t emit energy, but conveyed an extre coldness, a clarity to extre level sense of discord.
Like a faint pixel error on an otherwise suffocatingly perfect painting.
This feeling flashed quickly yet exploded like thunder in the depths of Duke’s nearly succumbing consciousness.
His parents... how could they have aged so fast? The sense of ti didn’t match.
The class teacher... why wasn’t he probing into the reasons for his disappearance, easily accepting the excuse of illness? The logic was flawed.
This sunlight, this scent, this touch... too perfect, perfectly like a carefully woven trap targeting the softest corners of his heart.
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