Cold.
That was the first thing he felt.
Not pain. Not fear. Just cold.
It crept into his bones like silent fingers, wrapping around him, holding him in place. His body refused to move. His mind refused to think. Everything felt distant. Heavy.
Then came the voices.
"...He's still breathing."
A man's voice. Low. Calm.
"Good. Bring him inside. Quickly."
Darkness shifted.
Or maybe his eyes did.
He wasn't sure.
Time passed.
Minutes.
Hours.
Maybe longer.
Then—
Warmth.
Soft fabric beneath his body.
The faint scent of herbs filled the air.
His fingers twitched.
Just slightly.
"He moved!"
A woman's voice. Gentle. Relieved.
His eyelids trembled. Heavy, but slowly—slowly—they opened.
Light entered his vision, blurry at first.
A wooden ceiling.
Old, but strong.
Not stone.
Not black jade.
Not the Demon Palace.
He didn't know why that thought came to him.
He tried to move.
Pain exploded in his head.
"Don't move," the woman said quickly.
She leaned over him. Her face was soft. Kind eyes. No hostility.
"You're safe now."
Safe.
The word echoed strangely inside him.
Safe from what?
He opened his mouth.
"...Where..."
His throat burned.
"...Where am I...?"
His voice was weak. Fragile.
The woman smiled gently.
"You fell from the mountain," she said. "Our family found you."
Family.
The word felt unfamiliar.
An older man stepped forward. His presence was steady. Observant.
"You were unconscious for three days," he said.
Three days.
Why did that matter?
He tried to remember.
Anything.
A name.
A place.
A face.
Nothing.
Just emptiness.
His breathing quickened slightly.
Fear.
Pure.
Cold.
He didn't know who he was.
The woman noticed.
Her expression softened further.
"It's alright," she said quietly, holding his hand. "You don't need to force yourself."
Her hand was warm.
Strangely comforting.
A younger boy stepped closer, peeking curiously.
"He looks normal," the boy said.
The woman frowned slightly.
"Don't be rude."
"I'm not," the boy replied innocently.
The older man watched him carefully.
Then asked the question.
"Do you remember your name?"
Silence.
He tried.
Reached into his mind.
Found nothing.
"...No."
The word felt heavy.
Empty.
He had no name.
No past.
No identity.
Just existence.
The man nodded slowly.
"I see."
He paused.
Then smiled faintly.
"Then you can have a new one."
The woman looked at him.
"So soon?"
"Yes," the man replied calmly.
He looked at the boy lying in the bed.
"From today… your name is Luo Chen."
Luo Chen.
The sound entered his ears.
Echoed in his mind.
Luo Chen.
"...Luo Chen..."
He whispered it.
It didn't feel wrong.
It didn't feel right either.
But it was something.
Something that belonged to him.
The woman smiled warmly.
"Welcome home, Luo Chen."
Home.
Another unfamiliar word.
But he didn't reject it.
He couldn't.
Because he had nothing else.
The days passed slowly.
Luo Chen remained weak.
His body felt unfamiliar.
Heavy.
Uncooperative.
The woman—his new mother—cared for him constantly.
She brought him food.
Herbal medicine.
She stayed beside him when he slept.
The older man—his new father—spoke little.
But he was always watching.
Observing.
Measuring.
The younger boy—his new brother—was different.
Curious.
Energetic.
Annoying.
And friendly.
"Come on," the boy said one day, standing beside the bed. "You should see outside."
"I can't walk properly yet," Luo Chen replied quietly.
"You can try."
Luo Chen hesitated.
Then slowly stood.
His legs trembled.
The world spun slightly.
The boy grabbed his arm.
"Careful."
Luo Chen looked at him.
"Thank you."
The boy grinned.
"Of course. We're brothers."
Brothers.
The word felt strange.
But not unpleasant.
The village was peaceful.
Small houses.
Simple people.
Children running.
Laughter.
Normal.
Everything felt normal.
People greeted him kindly.
"You're awake."
"Good to see you walking."
"Take care of your health."
Their smiles were warm.
Genuine.
Yet—
Something felt off.
Sometimes—
When they thought he wasn't looking—
They stared at him.
Not with hatred.
Not with fear.
But with something else.
Something he couldn't understand.
At night—
He couldn't sleep.
He didn't know why.
His body felt restless.
His mind empty.
One night, he walked outside quietly.
The village was silent.
Moonlight covered everything in pale silver.
Then—
He saw them.
Villagers.
Standing together.
In a circle.
Their hands moved in strange patterns.
Signs.
Symbols.
Communication.
But not spoken words.
Their movements were precise.
Deliberate.
Ancient.
Luo Chen frowned.
He didn't understand.
One of them noticed him.
Instantly—
They stopped.
All of them turned.
And smiled.
Warmly.
Normally.
As if nothing happened.
"Luo Chen," his mother called gently from behind him.
He turned.
She stood there.
Smiling.
"Come back inside."
He hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Then obeyed.
He didn't know why.
But something inside him—
Trusted her.
Behind him—
Their smiles slowly disappeared.
Far away—
In the Demon Palace—
Mo Zhu suddenly opened his eyes.
His aura fluctuated.
"He lives," he said quietly.
Across the hall, Li Feng stood motionless.
He felt it too.
Faint.
Weak.
But real.
"Mo Yanluo," Li Feng whispered.
Xu Tianming stepped forward.
"Where is he?"
Li Feng closed his eyes.
Searching.
Feeling.
"...Hidden."
His eyes opened again.
"But alive."
Xu Tianming clenched his fists.
Relief.
And determination.
"We will find him."
Li Feng nodded.
"Yes."
Back in the village—
Luo Chen stood alone outside his new home.
He looked up at the sky.
It felt familiar.
And unfamiliar at the same time.
He didn't know why.
He didn't know who he was.
But for now—
He had a name.
He had a home.
He had a family.
And he believed—
He was safe.
He didn't know—
They were waiting.
Watching.
Preparing.
For the day—
His power would be ready.
And everything would change.