The circumstances in both worlds were different, so Wen Hao decided to first focus on the older and more capable body.

He found himself seated in a leather chair within what seemed to be a relatively normal kid’s room. A ceiling light cast a soft glow across the space, illuminating a neatly made bed, a small mirror mounted on the wall, and the desk where he was currently sitting. A long bookshelf stretched across one side of the room, filled to the brim with books of various sizes. Everything looked familiar, yet there was an odd sense of detachment, as though he were inspecting someone else’s life.

After taking in his surroundings, he stood up from the chair and approached the mirror. The face staring back at him wasn’t his.

“So, I really did transmigrate,” he muttered under his breath, studying his reflection.

The boy in the mirror looked about seven or eight years old, with short brown hair and dark green eyes that gleamed with intelligence. His sharp eyebrows and straight nose gave him a refined appearance. Even at this young age, he could tell this body would grow into someone strikingly handsome.

“It’s weird being eight years old again,” Wen Hao thought, flexing his fingers and testing the movement of his new limbs. Despite the strangeness, everything felt natural, as if he had always been in this body.

His mind briefly shifted to his other body. Diverting part of his attention, he observed his surroundings in that world—a stark contrast. There, he was a mere toddler, too young to walk or talk properly.

Shaking off the disorientation of splitting his focus, Wen Hao returned his attention to the present. He waved his arms and stretched his legs, getting a feel for his current physical capabilities. The body was small but healthy, with no noticeable limitations.

After a few minutes of acclimating, he stopped focusing on himself and began observing his environment more closely.

“This world doesn’t seem much different from Earth,” he thought, scanning the room again. The layout and furniture looked familiar, almost modern. Yet, there was something about the atmosphere, an intangible quality, that felt… off. He couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong.

Turning back to the desk, Wen Hao glanced at the papers scattered across it. Strange symbols and intricate diagrams filled the pages, their meaning both alien and oddly familiar.

“What is this?” he murmured, picking up one of the sheets.

The language written on the paper was nothing like anything he had seen before. The characters twisted and curved in ways that didn’t resemble any alphabet he knew. Yet, as his eyes scanned the page, he found himself understanding it completely, as though the knowledge had always been there, buried deep within him.

It was a strange sensation, like recalling a memory he didn’t know he had. But given everything that had happened recently, he simply shrugged it off.

The paper read:

“The creation of basic runes involves the stabilization of mana flows through controlled geometric patterns. A poorly structured rune risks disruption and collapse, rendering it ineffective or even dangerous.”

Wen Hao frowned. Runes? Mana? Stabilization? These terms felt foreign yet oddly natural. He could grasp their meaning, but their implications confused him. Was this something the boy whose body he now occupied had been studying? Or was it knowledge he had somehow inherited?

As the questions swirled in his mind, something clicked. A rush of information filled his head, as though a door had been unlocked in his consciousness. Concepts, methods, and terms began arranging themselves in his mind like pieces of a puzzle.

Runes. Mana. Channels. Flows.

He instinctively understood that runes were more than just drawings. They were structures that could direct and shape mana, the energy that seemed to underpin this world. Basic runes were simple enough to create but required precision and focus.

The more he read, the more these ideas crystallized. As his eyes moved across the page, more and more knowledge poured into him, filling the gaps in his understanding. Diagrams of runes detailed their functions: defensive barriers, sparks of light, and minor enhancements to objects. It was basic, surface-level knowledge, something an eight-year-old would learn. But to Wen Hao, it was fascinating.

“This is real,” he whispered, gripping the paper tightly.

He set the sheet down and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He let the flood of new information settle, organizing it in his mind. It wasn’t just knowledge—it was understanding. It felt natural. As if it had always been a part of him.

When he opened his eyes, they were filled with a new light.

“This isn’t Earth,” he thought, his lips curling into a small smile. “This is a magical world.”

The possibilities excited him. A world filled with magic, with mana, with things he had only read about in novels. And now, he had transmigrated into one.

Even his other body trembled slightly, reflecting his growing enthusiasm.

Sitting back down on the chair, he reached for another sheet from the table. There was still so much to learn. Although most of the knowledge surfaced instinctively, the act of reading brought forth memories and insights locked away in this body. Each symbol and phrase expanded his understanding of the world around him.

Minutes passed as he immersed himself in the notes. The strange diagrams and instructions, which would have seemed nonsensical before, now came alive with meaning. Each page revealed new facets of runes and mana manipulation, filling gaps in his understanding and deepening his curiosity.

Then it happened.

“Rowan!” A woman’s voice rang out from somewhere inside the house.

The moment he heard this, a sudden, piercing pain struck his head. He groaned, clutching it as flashes of unfamiliar memories invaded his mind. Unlike before, when concepts and knowledge came gradually, this was far more intense.

He saw fragmented scenes. A child in the same room he was sitting in. Events that shaped this life. The faces of people who seemed important to him. The memories were disjointed and incomplete, but they carried enough detail to form a rough understanding of Rowan Veyne’s life. His parents. His house. The world beyond this room. All of it forced its way into his consciousness.

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The memories settled, leaving him slightly dizzy and breathless. He stared at the desk, slowly assimilating those unfamiliar memories

“Rowan! The food’s ready! It’s going to get cold!” The woman called again, and this time, he recognized her voice as his mother’s.

Shaking his head, he suppressed his headache and called out “I’m coming!”.

He stood up from the chair, his legs slightly unsteady, and headed toward the door. As he walked through the quiet house toward the dining room, he couldn’t help but reflect on what had just happened.

There was still so much to uncover, but for now, it was time to eat.

…

On the other side.

“Mmm? What’s wrong, Hao’er?” The woman holding him asked, her tone soft and curious. He had shifted slightly in her arms, letting out some unintelligible rambles.

The baby in her arms, barely a year old at most, was now looking around with curiosity.

Although most of his attention was focused on his other self, he wasn’t completely unconscious in this body. He could still observe the world around him and gather bits of information.

The discomfort from the shock his other self had just experienced lingered faintly in this body, though it wasn’t as intense. Shaking off the strange feeling, he turned his focus outward.

The woman’s words confirmed something that had been on his mind since waking up in this world. He was still called Wen Hao, just as he was in his previous life. Whether it was pure coincidence or something more significant, he didn’t know.

His surroundings confirmed his earlier suspicions. The architecture and attire were primitive, resembling something out of ancient China. Wooden beams, tiled roofs, and open courtyards surrounded the area, with intricate carvings on some of the larger structures. The people moved with purpose, their clothing loose yet sturdy, designed for function rather than extravagance.

He and his mother were currently standing on the edge of a wide, open arena. In front of them, a group of older children practiced martial arts under the supervision of a strict-looking instructor. They moved in unison, standing in Horse stance, repeatedly punching and kicking as the instructor barked out commands.

“Right! Left! Hook! Stomp! Hey, you! Stop slacking!” The man’s deep, commanding voice echoed across the arena. His short black hair and thick eyebrows added to his imposing presence. One of the children flinched at the reprimand and quickly adjusted their posture.

“Oh dear, little Ru Jun is slacking again. I’m sure Madam Xue won’t be happy,” his mother said with a light laugh, glancing at the child who had been caught.

Other women nearby also chuckled, their focus split between watching the children and casually chatting among themselves. From what Wen Hao could observe, most of them were either the mothers of the practicing children or women like his mother, watching for entertainment.

As for how he could understand them?

It was the same as with his other body. The language simply made sense to him, as if it had always been part of his knowledge. He didn’t dwell on it for long. There was no use overthinking something that didn’t have an immediate explanation.

‘Mmm, since the other world has magic, is this a normal world or does it also have something special?‘ Wen Hao pondered as his eyes wandered.

He was curious. His other self had already confirmed the existence of magic and mana, concepts he still hadn’t seen firsthand but knew to be real thanks to the memories of Rowan Veyne. Here, however, things felt different. He was just a baby, and the memories tied to this body were limited. So far, nothing had stood out as unusual.

Bwaaah!

A loud trumpet blast shattered the calm atmosphere, startling everyone in the arena. Wen Hao blinked at the sudden noise, trying to process what had just happened.

“Mm? The patriarch is summoning the family warriors?” one woman murmured, her tone laced with confusion.

The other women exchanged uncertain glances, equally puzzled. The Wen family’s patriarch rarely summoned warriors unless something significant had happened. No major events had occurred recently, at least none they were aware of.

The instructor furrowed his brow, glancing toward the source of the sound. After a brief moment of hesitation, he turned to the children. “It seems today’s training will be cut short,” he said curtly before quickly departing. Whatever was happening, he clearly didn’t want to be the last to arrive.

The children, though pleased with the unexpected reprieve, kept their emotions in check under the watchful eyes of their mothers. Some remained in their Horse stance, hoping to stand out and impress, while others feigned exhaustion and rested one knee on the ground.

“Mmm, something must have happened for Grandpa to summon everyone,” his mother murmured softly, shifting Wen Hao slightly in her arms as she made her way toward the main hall.

Upon reaching the main hall, they were greeted by two guards stationed at the gate. They wore scaled plate armor reminiscent of Tang Dynasty soldiers from Earth. The polished metal glinted in the sunlight, adding an air of authority to their presence.

“Miss Meiyun,” the guards said in unison, bowing respectfully as they opened the gates for her without question.

Wen Hao observed this interaction with interest. His mother’s name, Wen Meiyun, was clearly one that carried weight within the family. Coupled with her calling the patriarch grandpa, it seems her status in the clan is not low.

Inside, the scene was lively and chaotic. The hall was filled with people: young men with bulging muscles, middle-aged warriors carrying various types of armor and weapons, and even a few elders who looked as if they hadn’t stepped onto a battlefield in years. The chatter and clamor of voices filled the air, making it hard for Wen Hao to pick out any specific conversations.

He shifted his focus, scanning the room. Most of the people gathered were men, and the few women present stood close to male companions. His mother, however, walked in confidently, alone except for him.

His mother walked through the hall, her gaze scanning the crowd as if searching for someone. After a moment, her eyes lit up.

“Hey!” she called, approaching a man who appeared to be in his thirties. His broad shoulders and muscular frame made him stand out among the crowd.

The man turned, his face breaking into a warm smile. “Mei’er,” he said, embracing her as they met.

Wen Hao, caught between them, felt slightly squished but noted they were careful not to press too hard. The sensation was unfamiliar, and he had to suppress the urge to squirm.

After they separated, the man’s gaze dropped to him, and his smile softened. From the way he looked at him and the warmth in his eyes, Wen Hao knew this man was his father in this world.

“Do you know why Grandpa called us here?” his mother asked.

The man shook his head. “No idea. I just arrived as well. Maybe the patriarch has an announcement.”

The two began chatting, their tones casual yet tinged with curiosity. Meanwhile, the crowd shifted and parted, creating a pathway as an elderly man made his way toward the center of the hall. His long white robe trailed slightly behind him, and his white hair framed drooping ears that gave him a wise and aged appearance. He leaned heavily on a walking cane, but despite his frail demeanor, the air in the room changed. Everyone became still, their expressions turning respectful and serious.

‘Is that the patriarch?’ Wen Hao wondered, his eyes narrowing as he observed the man.

As the old man approached the main seat of the hall, Wen Hao felt something odd. The air around the patriarch seemed to shimmer, shifting slightly as if heated, reminiscent of mirages in the desert.

‘Am I imagining things?’ he thought, focusing harder on the strange phenomenon.

The patriarch seated himself slowly, gripping his cane firmly as his gaze swept over the gathered family members. A moment later, a sudden wave of pressure erupted from him, filling the hall. It was as if countless boulders were pressing down on everyone.

“This?!”

“What is this?!”

Voices of shock echoed through the hall as many struggled to stand under the oppressive aura. Wen Hao could feel it, but it wasn’t particularly uncomfortable for him. His mother appeared similarly unaffected, showing only a slight reaction. However, his father was clearly struggling, his knees trembling as he gritted his teeth in an effort to remain standing.

“Hmph.” The patriarch let out a short snort, and the pressure vanished instantly. The crowd collectively exhaled in relief, though tension still lingered in the air.

After a brief silence, one of the elders stepped forward, his expression a mix of hesitation and excitement. Summoning his courage, he asked, “Has the patriarch broken through?”

All eyes turned toward the old man, their expressions filled with anticipation. For a family, the strength of the patriarch was directly tied to their standing and authority.

The patriarch’s lips curled into a small grin. “Indeed,” he said, his voice calm yet brimming with power. “I have broken through the mortal barrier and taken the first step into immortality.”

As he spoke, he raised his walking cane slightly, and a shadow began to form around it. Slowly, the faint image of a black snake appeared, its body coiling around the cane. The snake's eyes glowed faintly, exuding an aura of danger and mystery.

The hall erupted into murmurs as awe and excitement rippled through the gathered family members. Wen Hao’s eyes remained on the patriarch, his mind racing.