Chapter 73

Han Luo rubbed his eyes in disbelief as he looked around.

Right now, he was lying on a small bed, and judging by the familiar surroundings, this was his old home—no mistake about it. Somehow, it felt like he had traveled back in time to his childhood.

Could it be? Had breaking through the limits of the tenth Spirit Tempering truly allowed him to time travel?

He found it hard to believe. Moving his body a little, he confirmed—it really was a child’s body.

Of course, deep down, he knew he was in an illusion.

He had already experienced mental trials during the eighth and ninth Spirit Temperings, so it wasn’t surprising that the tenth would present an illusion as well. What surprised him was that it had taken the form of his childhood home.

"So this is what you’re trying to do—trap me forever in fond memories of the past, huh?" Han Luo murmured to himself.

“Hey, lazy boy! It’s already so late and you’re still not up? You’ll be late!” his mother’s voice shouted from outside, piercing through time and memory, leaving Han Luo in a daze.

He quickly dressed and opened the door. A wave of mouthwatering aromas hit him square in the face—so vivid, so real.

In the kitchen, his mother was waging culinary war with the family’s nonstick pan, her practiced hands flipping eggs like a sailor steering a boat through a storm. Each time the eggs were about to flip out, she rescued them with ease.

On the sofa, his father sat calmly, glasses perched on his nose, a cigarette in one hand and a newspaper in the other. In that era when a single phone could connect you to the world, his father was truly one of a kind.

“What are you spacing out for? Hurry up and eat! It’s already so late!” his mother yelled again, almost roaring.

Han Luo’s eyes suddenly welled with tears.

Even knowing this was all just an illusion, the blood ties, that deep familial love, ran through his very soul.

His parents had died suddenly in a car accident. He’d barely processed it before he was thrust into this cultivation world, thinking he could start over—but the pain of that loss never really faded.

He was, after all, just a person—not some emotionless immortal.

Especially coming from a modern society, the need for family bonds ran far deeper than in the Eastern cultivation world, where cultivators seemed aloof and detached, barely human anymore.

“I’m sorry, Mom, Dad… I have to go,” Han Luo whispered.

Without hesitation, he turned and jumped out of the fourth-floor window.

“Aaaahhh!” his mother’s scream echoed behind him, followed by the unmistakable crash of the nonstick pan hitting the floor.

Boom!

His consciousness plunged into darkness.

When he woke again, a cool, gentle hand was touching his forehead.

“You’re awake!” said a young nurse who looked like she was barely out of school.

“…This is… a hospital?” Han Luo sniffed, catching a strong scent of disinfectant.

“Where else? You’re lucky to be alive after jumping off the fourth floor,” she snapped, clearly unimpressed.

“Excuse me, big sis… What floor is this?” Han Luo asked politely.

The nurse gave him a sideways glance. “What, planning to jump again?”

She waved a thermometer in the air, checking it against the light. “I’m telling you, our hospital—ah!”

Before she could finish, Han Luo was already out the window with a whoosh.

Clang!

He smacked right into the window guardrail.

“…Damn it, this was the first floor?”

And with that, he fainted again.

When he came to, he was tied to the hospital bed. Nearby, his parents were anxiously talking to the doctor. The moment they saw him awake, his mother rushed to his side and clutched his hand.

“Xiao Luo, are you okay? Whatever it is, you can tell Mom. I’m here.”

Seeing her tear-filled eyes, Han Luo felt a pang in his chest. Could it really be that he’d traveled back?

No… this illusion was just too real.

“I’m okay, Mom…” he replied softly, trying to reassure her.

Once the doctor had finished checking on him and asked a few questions, they untied him. Since he’d fallen, he had to stay in the hospital for a few days, but luckily, he’d only suffered minor injuries thanks to getting caught on an old tree.

Sitting on the hospital bed, Han Luo flexed his hand. Everything felt so real—it was almost unsettling. He pinched himself and winced. It hurt. He even tried drawing blood with a needle.

“What the hell are you doing!?” the nurse from earlier suddenly barged in, knocking over a tray in shock. It was as if she thought he was assaulting her—she immediately launched a barrage of wild punches.

Han Luo just sat there, holding his pose, watching her go off like a whirlwind.

Eventually, she ran out of steam and noticed him staring at her like she was crazy. Blushing furiously, she brushed her hair behind her ear, bent down, and started cleaning up the fallen equipment.

“Lift your arm, I need to take your temperature,” she said calmly, pretending nothing had happened.

Han Luo raised his hand, looking at her flushed face, then—stab!—he poked her wrist with the needle.

Silence.

Then, a scream loud enough to shatter glass.

He was instantly knocked over and pelted with all kinds of flying objects.

Even the people in this illusion felt too real.

Covering himself with his arms, he couldn’t help but think, This is insane.

The next day, he was forcibly discharged from the hospital.

He had wanted to apologize—after all, even if it was just an illusion, what he did was kind of messed up. But the head nurse told him the young nurse had resigned that very day.

Han Luo was a little disappointed. He had thought it might turn into a sweet memory.

But it was over.

Back home, at his mother’s urging, he packed his bag and headed to school.

Throughout the entire day, Han Luo was well aware that none of it was real.

Still… he had to admit, he enjoyed it.

The familiar stern teacher, his loud and loyal best friend, the pretty deskmate with freckles—every face from his youth came back to life.

You know, that freckled deskmate later became a famous beauty blogger with over a million followers. His best friend went on to become a chef and even studied abroad. As for the class flower, whom all the boys adored—rumor had it she was now divorcing her wealthy husband.

And their poor homeroom teacher… passed away one night while grading papers. Han Luo had even attended the funeral.

Everything around him was both strange and achingly familiar.

That night, Han Luo stood on the rooftop of a high-rise across from his old apartment building.

He lit a half-smoked cigarette from his pocket, took a long drag, then exhaled slowly.

Some things belong to the past. They’re beautiful only in memory. If I really had the chance to live it all over again… it wouldn’t mean anything.

But after seeing the wonders of the cultivation world, he had come to believe one thing—at the end of the immortal path lies reincarnation. So he would walk this road, one careful step at a time, until he reached the end of that path.

And there, he would see his parents again.

That would be the true reunion of their family.

He flicked away the cigarette butt and stepped forward with unwavering resolve.