Blood.
It soaked the stone beneath him, pooling in dark rivers as the cold wind howled through the shattered courtyard. Bodies lay strewn across the ground—his allies, his comrades, his brothers-in-arms—all fallen.
All betrayed.
Ryo could barely lift his head. His body trembled, broken beyond repair. Sword wounds tore through his flesh, and a searing ache ran through his soul itself—his core fractured, his cultivation crumbling into ash. The pain was unbearable.
But not nearly as much as the faces of those who stood above him.
Friends. Fellow disciples. People he had trusted with his life.
Their swords were still wet with his blood.
"You should've stayed a pawn, Ryo," spat the senior disciple, his voice thick with disdain. "You clawed your way up, but forgot your place."
He laughed. They all did.
Even now, he didn't understand. Was it envy? Fear of his rise? Or simply convenience?
In the end, it didn't matter. The result was the same.
He had chased power… and lost everything that mattered.
His mind drifted. Faces emerged in his dying thoughts—his mother's soft smile, his little sister's laugh, his older sister's distant but ever-watchful eyes. He'd left them behind in the name of cultivation. Told himself he'd protect them by becoming strong.
But strength meant nothing if you were alone at the end.
"…I'm sorry," he whispered, as darkness swallowed him whole.
---
Ryo didn't expect to open his eyes again.
And yet… he did.
Gasping, he jolted upright.
His breath caught. His heart pounded.
He was… alive?
His hands were unscarred. His body, whole. The dense spiritual pressure of a shattered core—gone. His clothes… weren't even bloodstained. He touched his chest. No wounds. No pain.
Only confusion.
"What in the world… is going on?"
He looked around. He was in a small wooden room. Familiar. Too familiar. A neatly folded robe hung beside the bed. An old sword leaned against the wall—a beginner's blade. A mirror reflected a younger face. His face.
No longer the hardened man who had clawed through hell and betrayal.
But a boy.
Fifteen.
The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning.
He had returned.
To his younger self. Years before his death. Before betrayal. Before he ever left home.
A second chance.
His breath came shallow, almost disbelieving. Was it a trick? An illusion? Some cruel afterlife?
But the sensation was real.
Everything was real.
And then—footsteps. Approaching his room.
A voice followed. Warm, soft, and unmistakably familiar.
"Ryo? Breakfast is ready, sweetheart. Don't sleep in again."
That voice.
His mother.
Scarlett.
He hadn't heard her voice in so long.
Then another voice rang out from down the hall—colder, sharper.
"If he doesn't get up, I'll drag him out. Feet first."
Crystal.
He knew she cared in her own way.
Finally—light giggles, followed by a little girl's cheerful shout.
"Onii-chan! I made your favorite buns! If you don't eat them, I'll cry!"
Lily.
They were alive.
They were all here.
---
Ryo's chest tightened as memories and feelings swirled inside him.
We're bound by more than blood, he realized. It's something deeper—this family, our bond, our fate.
I don't know if we share the same bloodline, but that doesn't matter anymore.
They are my family. The ones I will protect.
Tears threatened the corners of his eyes.
But he wouldn't cry. Not now.
This time, he wouldn't fail them.
He clenched his fists, his gaze hardening.
"I don't know how… or why I got this second chance," he murmured. "But I'll protect them. No matter what."
Even if it meant walking through hell again.
Even if it meant hiding the truth of his regression from everyone.
Even if it meant challenging the most sacred taboo of all.
Because in this world, love between family was sin.
And yet… it was the only love he ever truly wanted to protect.