Time flowed slowly in the main residence of the Lin family.
The morning sun bathed the small garden nestled within the inner courtyard. Bamboo leaves trembled as a gentle breeze passed through, and birds called to each other, their voices weaving a peaceful melody.
Inside a spacious and warm chamber, a tiny baby lay asleep in his mother's embrace. Her face, still pale from childbirth, appeared tranquil. She held Lin Tian close, as if unwilling to let go for even a second.
Meanwhile, Lin Qingyu sat beside the bed, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at her little brother.
"Father," she whispered, "when Tian'er grows up, I want to teach him how to wield a sword!"
Their father chuckled from behind the tea table. "Hahaha! Of course, Qingyu. But first, you must become a great warrior yourself."
Lin Qingyu grasped her brother's tiny hand. "I promise! I will become a sacred warrior and protect Mother, Father, and Tian'er forever!"
Though Lin Tian appeared to be asleep… he was listening in silence.
Warmth surged in his heart. The same heart that had once been numb to betrayal and hatred now trembled ever so slightly.
"This warmth… feels like a dream I never had before."
"Qingyu… you are truly different from the cruel Murim world."
**
Days passed.
Though still small, Lin Tian observed his surroundings with full awareness. He studied the servants coming and going, memorized the layout of the main house, and even mapped out the route to the clan library.
But more than anything, he watched his mother.
In his past life, she had succumbed to a mysterious illness when he was just a child. Back then, Lin Tian never knew the cause—only that one day, she coughed blood, grew weak… and never woke again.
Now… he saw the signs. The pallor of her face, the occasional rasp in her breath, the dark circles beneath her eyes.
The sickness had already begun.
One night, when everyone was fast asleep, Lin Tian opened his eyes.
With great effort, he rolled his tiny body off the bed. His baby robe draped over him as he crawled slowly toward a small shelf where writing tools were kept.
His tiny hands grasped a brush. With immense difficulty, he began scrawling characters—an ancient medicinal formula he had once learned from the Demonic network.
His hand trembled. Ink dripped onto the floor. But he kept writing.
Because this was his only chance… to save his mother.
**
The next morning.
His father found a tattered piece of paper on the desk in the study. His brow furrowed as he read the jagged handwriting.
"Qingyu? Did you write this?" he asked.
Lin Qingyu shook her head. "I don't know anything! I can't even read such messy writing!"
His mother chuckled softly, though she coughed soon after. His father's confusion deepened.
Though doubtful, he instructed the servants to prepare the medicinal formula as written. Two days later, after his wife drank the remedy, her complexion brightened. Her cough faded. Her breath became light and easy.
"This… this is a miracle…" she murmured.
Meanwhile, Lin Tian smiled in silence.
"The first step… was a success."
**
By the age of one, Lin Tian could already stand and walk—an astonishing feat.
"This child is truly a genius…" the servants whispered.
"A true descendant of the Lin family," remarked the elder overseeing the garden.
Yet no one realized that the adorable baby who laughed during the day… sat quietly in the corner of his room at night, flipping through the basic inner force manuals of the Lin clan.
Lin Tian never rested. He knew time was slipping away. The program to train Demonic generals would begin at the age of four.
"I must be faster… stronger… before they come for me."
**
One evening, as his mother slept beside him and his father read scriptures in the front chamber, Lin Tian stared at the ceiling. His eyes briefly flickered blue—just for a moment—then returned to normal.
In his heart, he summoned a name buried deep in his vengeance:
"Lord Demonic… I have returned."
"And this time… I will destroy you."