A week had passed since Zhou Yang awoke in this unfamiliar yet strangely familiar world. During that time, his mother, Zhou Mei, never left his side. She cared for him with a dedication so unwavering that Zhou Yang often felt embarrassed.

Every morning, Zhou Mei would arrive in his room with a bowl of soup or porridge, insisting on feeding him with her own hands. Zhou Yang, a grown man in his forties at heart, had tried to protest once, saying he could eat on his own. But the moment he saw tears welling in her eyes, he immediately regretted it and relented.

"Why does it feel so real?" he wondered, the tug of guilt and warmth in his chest confusing him further.

Meng Yao, his personal maid, was also a constant presence. She was gentle but efficient, always anticipating his needs before he voiced them. Her younger brother, Meng Yan, was equally diligent, acting as his personal escort. Despite his youthful appearance, Meng Yan was a martial artist at the late stage of the Golden Core realm, a fact that Zhou Yang found impressive. The young man carried himself with the discipline of a soldier and looked at Zhou Yang with admiration and respect.

Zhou Wen, his father, had visited him once during the week. True to his nature, the man didn’t linger, simply ensuring his son’s well-being before leaving. Zhou Yang had also met Zhou XinXin, his younger sister, a cheerful and lively girl two years his junior. She had a contagious energy, one that filled the room with life.

And yet, even surrounded by care and concern, Zhou Yang couldn’t escape the weight of his thoughts.

---

Now fully recovered, Zhou Yang stood alone in his room, facing a full-length mirror.

The young man staring back at him was both familiar and foreign. He had sharp features, dark eyes with a faint golden hue, and a lean frame that suggested great potential, though he appeared slightly thinner than average—likely due to two years of being bedridden. He ran his fingers along his face, tracing its contours.

"So this is me now... Zhou Yang of the Zhou family," he murmured, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Turning away from the mirror, his gaze swept across the room. The sheer size of it was overwhelming—far too large for just one person. Everything spoke of prestige: the intricately carved furniture, the tapestries embroidered with gold thread, and the sparkling ornaments adorning the shelves.

Each artifact radiated value, and Zhou Yang marveled at the thought. Any one of these could make me rich overnight back on Earth. These are just decorations here, but on Earth, they’d be considered family heirlooms.

He sighed and moved to the window, his thoughts drifting as he stared at the sprawling estate outside.

---

Zhou Yang’s mind turned to the memories he had witnessed over the past week. This world, with its martial arts and cultivation, was a stark contrast to the world he once knew.

A world of martial arts and cultivation... he thought, recalling the snippets of information he had absorbed. I’ve overheard kids talking about these types of worlds before, where people train to become immortals by surpassing human limits. But this... This is real.

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The memories provided a clear outline of the cultivation system:

* Meridian Opening: The beginning, where one opens their body’s energy channels to allow the flow of Qi.

* Qi Refining: Absorbing and refining Qi from the surroundings.

* Foundation Building: Establishing a strong core to support future breakthroughs.

* Core Formation: The Qi condenses into a core within the dantian, solidifying one’s foundation.

* Golden Core: A refined state of cultivation, where power and control reach new heights.

* Nascent Soul: A soul-like entity forms within the dantian, allowing for advanced techniques and spiritual resilience.

* Tribulation: The cultivator faces life-threatening trials of body, mind, and soul.

* Half-Step Immortal: The final mortal stage before ascension.

Each realm was divided into early, middle, and peak stages, and the progressions felt both awe-inspiring and intimidating to Zhou Yang.

"How did I end up here?" he wondered, his chest tightening as his thoughts turned inward.

---

The memories of this world collided with those of Earth, pulling him into a spiral of doubt. He remembered Ying—his beloved wife—and the promise he had made to her.

"Ying... I told you I’d come to you. I said I’d follow you."

The thought brought a pang of guilt that made his breath hitch. He clenched his fists, his reflection in the window blurring as tears threatened to surface.

"Why am I still here? Why am I alive? If this body’s original owner is gone, doesn’t that make me a thief? I’ve stolen his life, his family, his future."

Yet, even as these thoughts consumed him, Zhou Yang felt something else—a warmth that wasn’t his own. The love of this boy’s family, their concern and care, tugged at his heart. The memories of Zhou Yang’s interactions with his parents, particularly his mother, lingered in his mind.

"Are these my feelings... or his? I can’t tell anymore," he thought, frustration mounting. "If they’re not mine, why do they feel so real?"

His mind flashed to Zhou Mei’s tearful smile as she fed him, to Zhou XinXin’s laughter, and to the admiration in Meng Yan’s eyes.

"If I end my life now, what will happen to them? Am I really so selfish that I’d take away their happiness just because I can’t handle mine?"

The thought brought an ache to his chest—not physical, but emotional. He closed his eyes, willing the turmoil to subside.

---

A memory surfaced, one from the void he had drifted in before waking in this world.

"Find what thou yearn’st for most and then return."

The words echoed in his mind, adding to his confusion. What I yearn for most? he thought bitterly. What I yearned for most is gone. Ying is gone. What could I possibly want now?

The words nagged at him, their meaning elusive. Did they mean he should search for peace? A reason to keep living? And where was he supposed to return to? The empty void?

He exhaled shakily and ran a hand through his hair. The questions swirled without answers, but one thought began to crystallize:

"If I want peace... I need to stay alive. Dying again won’t bring me closer to Ying, not if this world’s laws are anything like Earth’s. But what if... What if this cultivation world gives me the chance to truly find her again? Isn’t that what I want most?"

His resolve began to solidify.

---

Zhou Yang stood still, staring out the window for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he let out a slow, steady breath and spoke softly to the air:

"Ying... I’m sorry. I guess you’ll need to wait a bit longer for me to come to you."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, tinged with guilt. "Some unknown void wants me to find something and return to them. Can you believe that? Telling me to go back to a place with nothing in it—how stupid is that?"

He chuckled quietly, though his voice carried a hint of sadness.

"But maybe... Maybe in this world, we can meet again. Like those cultivation stories I overheard, where even the impossible becomes real. Maybe that’s what I yearn for most, after all. Because you are my peace."

As the faint light of dawn crept into the room, Zhou Yang’s dark eyes glimmered with a flicker of hope.