Sunlight streamed gently through the small family home. In a crib near the window, a one-year-old child stirred, his tiny hands reaching out unconsciously. His golden eyes opened for the first time in this life — sharp, piercing, and far older than his infant body should allow.
He did not yet understand this world. Colors, sounds, even the warmth of his mother's arms were new and strange. But a faint awareness lingered deep within him — a spark of memory from another life, from someone who had lived countless years and survived countless dangers.
From the corner of the room, a small voice chirped.
"Brother! Wake up! I want to play!"
His little sister, only five, bounced toward him with uncontained energy. He blinked, puzzled by the tiny creature, feeling something strange — curiosity.
Mom entered then, smiling, followed by his father.
"Time for breakfast, little one," his mother said, lifting him gently from the crib. "You must be hungry."
The baby in her arms gurgled, making innocent sounds. No understanding, no plans, no schemes — not yet. Only the faintest sense of being different, as if something within him was waiting, lying dormant.
Somewhere deep inside, buried beneath infant instincts and the comfort of family, a thread of awareness lingered: a hidden system, slumbering. Its purpose, its rules — all unknown for now. It would awaken only with the birth of his own child, far in the future. Until then, it slept.
Golden eyes gazed at his parents and sister, absorbing shapes, voices, warmth — but understanding nothing. One day, he would remember. One day, he would know. For now… he was just a baby.
And even as the world moved around him, the first stirrings of something ancient and calculating had begun.
Fang Yuan had returned.