The wind and snow did not relent.
Lin Chuan walked this path with Gu Changyuan ahead of him. He could feel the thread. It didn't hurt, and it wasn't tight, but it was there. One end was tethered to his chest; the other was fastened to the man in front. When he tried to step forward, the thread slackened. When he lingered a step behind, it grew taut. He felt it—not through logic, but through raw sensation. It was as real as the wind on his face or the snow on his shoulders.
He couldn't strike the man in front of him. Not because he lacked the strength, but because of this thread. If Gu Changyuan died, he died. And Lin Chuan wasn't ready to die.
In the silence of his mind, he called out: "System."
No response.
He called again: "System."
A second passed.
[...Present.]
"Why are you so slow?"
Another second passed.
[Massive temporal fluctuations detected during loading. Process forcibly interrupted. Multiple modules failed to initialize. Latency is high.]
"Temporal fluctuations? What does that mean?"
[Time Reversal. Someone is utilizing a Chrono-path ability. The source of the fluctuation is in close proximity. The reversal occurred at the exact moment of System initialization.]
Lin Chuan recalled the web novels he had read before his transmigration—the Autumn Cicada of the Great Love Immortal, or Fang Xiu in the Infinite Loop. Those tropes were now his reality. He looked up at the back of the man ahead. Black robes, black hair, moving through the storm as if the wind didn't exist. Gu Changyuan. It was him. He was the one who triggered the rebirth during the system's load. It wasn't a coincidence; Lin Chuan had been snared in the fallout.
He felt neither anger nor panic. He simply filed the fact away. This wasn't a debt he could settle now. Later.
He called again: "System."
[...Present.]
"Can you feel the thread?"
[Confirmed. Logged in the database.]
"What is it?"
[Karmic Binding. The price of the Yin-Yang Reversal Gu. A lifeline between the caster and the rescued. If the caster perishes, the rescued follows.]
"Can it be severed?"
Two seconds passed.
[Affirmative. Relevant records exist in the Knowledge Base. The binding of the Yin-Yang Reversal Gu can be dissolved through specific methods. However, due to incomplete loading, specific protocols cannot be retrieved. System recovery required.]
Lin Chuan didn't push further. As long as it could be severed. The answer was in the system; it was just out of reach for now. As the system slowly repaired itself, the day would come when he could take it.
The snow lashed against his face—it was cold. Yet, the body did not shiver. The frigid energy seeped into his skin and was absorbed, like water poured into parched earth. He could feel the thread at his chest, neither tight nor loose. He walked, Gu Changyuan walked. The thread remained unchanged. He maintained the distance, one step at a time, perfectly synchronized.
Suddenly, the memories of the Silver-Haired Man began to unfurl in his mind. It wasn't like watching a movie; it was like living a life a second time.
Age Three: The Lin Family Village.
He condensed a frost-flower for the first time. It wasn't taught; it was instinct. The first snow of winter fell, and he reached out to catch a flake. Instead of melting, the flake bloomed in his palm, ice spreading along the lines of his skin like a crystalline rose. He stared at the ice for a long time, and then he smiled. It wasn't because he was happy; it was because he knew.
The elders gathered, their eyes blazing. The Grand Elder knelt, his voice trembling: "A god-given talent. A talent from the heavens!" They called him a once-in-a-century genius, the hope of the Lin Village. He didn't know what "hope" meant, but he remembered their eyes. They weren't looking at a boy; they were looking at a treasure.
He didn't care. He knew he was different from them. He was born strong, born to stand above. Their worship was only right.
Age Five: The First Blood.
He began learning basic Frost Charms. What took others a month, he mastered in three days. A senior disciple, jealous and resentful, challenged him in private. With a single frost spike, he shattered the senior's protective ice armor. Shards buried themselves in the boy's shoulder, and blood sprayed onto the snow. The senior fled in terror and never looked at him again.
The elders praised his comprehension. He believed them, but only because he believed in himself. That night, sitting on the village wall under the moon, he gripped a shard of ice with one thought: This village is too small. I will leave.
Age Seven: The Ice Wolf King.
During his first hunt in the mountains, his squad was ambushed by a pack of ice wolves led by a Hundred-Beast King—a massive creature with silver-gray fur and golden eyes. The squad broke instantly. His uncle, Lin Tieshan, was dragged down, his leg mangled, blood staining the snow. People were screaming, running, dying.
Lin Chuan did not run. Not out of bravery, but out of disdain.
He stood in the storm, a short blade in hand. The wolf king lunged. Lin Chuan pivoted, let the claws graze past, and drove the blade through the beast's jaw and out the top of its skull. He stood over the carcass, watching the blood drip and bloom into red flowers on the white snow. His only thought: Is that all?
The survivors looked at him like he was a monster. His uncle, leaning against a tree, asked with a trembling voice, "Are... are you alright?" Lin Chuan didn't answer. He was busy cleaning his blade with the snow, focused and cold.
Age Nine: The First Kill.
It wasn't a demon he killed, but a "righteous" cultivator. A wandering swordsman came to the village, claiming he wanted to "guide" the young genius. Lin Chuan saw the killing intent hidden in the man's wind-path sword.
Before the sword could touch his chest, Lin Chuan drove an ice spear through the man's throat. The blood was hot as it splashed his face. As the man collapsed, gurgling like a broken bellows, Lin Chuan looked down and smiled. It was a sense of profound satisfaction. He was stronger. That was all that mattered.
Age Eleven: The Massacre.
While traveling with a merchant caravan, they were raided by forty horse bandits. While others hid and cried, Lin Chuan stood alone in the middle of the road.
The bandit leader charged, his great-sabre raised. Lin Chuan didn't blink. He condensed an ice blade, dodged, and swung. The horse's legs were severed; the leader tumbled. Before the man could rise, the ice blade pierced his heart. The rest charged. Lin Chuan didn't retreat. He killed them one by one. When a blade broke, he made another. When he ran out of energy, he used his fists.
When it was over, he stood drenched in blood—none of it his own. He licked a drop from his lip. The iron taste made his heart race. It wasn't fear; it was joy. The merchants emerged from hiding, but they didn't offer thanks. They offered only fear. He turned and walked away.
Age Thirteen: The Realization.
He returned to the village to find new memorial tablets in the ancestral hall. Friends and seniors he had known were dead, wiped out by a beast tide. He didn't cry. He didn't kneel. He stood there in the cold wind and realized: They died because they were weak. I live because I am strong.
From that day on, he stopped pretending to be the "obedient genius." He became the calamity they feared. He took the missions no one else dared. He killed without hesitation. He loved the slaughter, loved the power, loved the view from the top.
The Grand Elder tried to talk to him. "You've lost your way," the old man said. Lin Chuan thought: I haven't lost my way. I've just stopped walking yours.
Age Fifteen: The End.
He stood at the edge of the blood shroud, his body broken, his right arm shattered. There was no fear. He had lived fifteen years at the peak, killing whoever he pleased. He had no regrets. If given another chance, he would live the exact same way.
In his final moment, he glanced at the "Lin Chuan" trapped in the crowd. Not for help, but to ensure someone saw him die. He wanted the world to remember—he died, but he was stronger than all of them.
The memories faded, but the sensation remained.
Lin Chuan was not the Silver-Haired Man, but he understood him. A natural-born demon. A fanatic. A man who would do anything for his goals. His path was different from Gu Changyuan's, but their souls were made of the same cold steel.
That was why he followed Gu Changyuan. Not because he was forced, but because Gu Changyuan's words had struck a chord: "Dying is too easy. Living... that's where the interest lies. I'll show you a more brilliant world." Lin Chuan wanted to see just how far a man like this could go.
They arrived at a hidden stronghold behind a cliff. It wasn't a city or a village, but a tactical outpost. Lin Chuan couldn't see everything, but he reconstructed the environment through sound and smell. A few voices. The scent of "Fire-Coal Stones"—a strange, orange warmth that felt like a lamp.
Gu Changyuan walked in; Lin Chuan followed. No one asked who he was.
Gu Changyuan spoke to someone in hushed tones. "...Still pursuing." "Let them chase." "The item..." "No rush."
Lin Chuan etched every word into his mind. Gu Changyuan then approached him. "There is work to do tomorrow."
Lin Chuan remained silent. He could speak, but he chose not to. Silence was his armor. Gu Changyuan didn't know there was a stowaway in the "shell." He didn't know Lin Chuan knew about the rebirth, the system, or the thread. This was Lin Chuan's only advantage.
Gu Changyuan left, leaving Lin Chuan in a corner. The body sat against the wall—not because Lin Chuan willed it, but because Gu Changyuan had commanded it.
He began to cultivate. He felt the self-healing properties of the Ten-Extinction Physique. The frigid air was its fuel. He circulated the frost through his meridians, repairing the hidden damage. In his mind, he rehearsed the Silver-Haired Man's battles over and over, making those movements his own. He was waiting. Waiting for the system to recover, waiting for the thread to change, waiting for the moment he could escape without dying.
Late at night, the light of the Fire-Coal Stones dimmed.
Lin Chuan sat in the corner, listening to the wind howl outside. He felt the thread. It remained neutral. Gu Changyuan was nearby.
He whispered again: "System."
[...Present.]
"Do you know about Time Reversal?"
[Confirmed. Knowledge Base indicates it is an exceptionally rare Chrono-path ability. It sends a consciousness or body back to a prior point in time. The cost is astronomical, usually requiring the sacrifice of immense life-force or cultivation.]
"Can you be fixed?"
[Are you referring to the System or the timeline?]
"The System."
[Unknown. It may self-repair. It may not. Current status is anomalous; accurate judgment is impossible.]
Lin Chuan stopped asking. He knew the system wasn't withholding information; it simply didn't know. It was slow, incomplete, and broken. But it was there.
That was enough.
He wasn't in a hurry. The stones were shifting, the water was leaking. Sooner or later, the opportunity would come.
Lin Chuan sat in the dark, and he waited.