Suddenly, Wang Chen felt a violent impulse surge within him.

Some part of him—buried beneath layers of calm composure—wanted to drop all pretenses, grab the old ghost by the collar, and demand:

What the hell do you mean I was born in the river of time?

The thought alone made his scalp tingle.

Because as far as he remembered, nothing about his birth was extraordinary.

He hadn't descended from the heavens.

He hadn't emerged from some divine realm.

He had woken up in a tiny fishing village—one so painfully ordinary that even mosquitoes avoided it. A place where no cultivator had ever been born since the dawn of history.

And now this strange old man was claiming he came from the river of time?

The absurdity was so overwhelming Wang Chen nearly coughed blood.

But he forced his expression to remain blank, calm, unreadable—like still water reflecting a storm. He resisted the very real urge to strangle the old fogey until every secret fell out of his wrinkled mouth.

Attacking this mysterious being was far too risky. One wrong move and he'd probably explode into a cloud of regrets.

So, with immense self-control, Wang Chen maintained the facade—pretending he had expected these revelations all along, pretending he was merely indulging the old man's theatrics.

The All-Seeing Immortal's eyes shimmered faintly, emotion flickering across them like reflections of distant lightning. He studied Wang Chen with a deep, unnerving fascination that set every instinct Wang Chen had screaming.

"Hmm… this is interesting."

His tone was soft—almost amused.

But every syllable carried an ancient weight that pressed heavily against the hall.

To the side, Sui Zheng stood frozen.

He didn't dare gulp.

Didn't dare breathe loudly.

He simply watched the two monsters converse, cold sweat gathering under his robe. He didn't understand a single thing they were saying, but one thing his instincts screamed loud and clear:

If he acted rashly, he would die. Horribly.

The air in the hall suddenly warped, rippling outward like disturbed water.

The temperature spiked, heat rolling through the room in suffocating waves.

Threads of electricity crackled from wall to wall—subtle at first, then sharp enough to make the hair on Sui Zheng's neck stand on end.

Wang Chen could feel it too—the atmosphere tightening, pressing, suffocating. The world itself seemed to be holding its breath.

He narrowed his eyes.

In the next heartbeat, he turned toward the old man again. His voice was cold, clipped, and razor-sharp—cutting through the tension like a blade slicing silk.

"Cut the nonsense," Wang Chen said, "and tell me exactly why you're here."

The hall fell utterly silent.

The All-Seeing Immortal didn't react at first.

A strange glint—cold, ancient, unfathomable—passed through his eyes, and the corners of his cracked lips slowly curled upward into an eerie, unsettling smile.

"Hehe… it seems you're not as desperate as I thought."

His voice slithered through the hall like a whisper from somewhere far older than this world.

Then his gaze—sharp and invasive—drifted up and down Wang Chen's entire body, as though peeling back layers of flesh and bone to inspect the soul underneath.

The look made Wang Chen's skin tighten, a cold prickling sensation running down his spine.

There's something very wrong with this old man's head…

"And why would I be desperate?" Wang Chen replied, his voice steady as still water.

Because truthfully?

Nothing that came out of this decrepit lunatic's mouth made sense.

Not his claims.

Not his attitude.

Not his presence.

Yet each word carried a strange pressure that made Wang Chen feel as if he were standing on the edge of a cosmic secret.

The All-Seeing Immortal chuckled again—low, raspy, unhurried—before finally revealing the true reason he had come.

"I want you to help me reconstruct my body."

His tone was soft, almost conversational, but those all-seeing eyes never left Wang Chen's face—not even for a heartbeat.

"Reconstruct your body?" Wang Chen repeated inwardly, brows knitting together.

Help him?

With that?

How in the world was he supposed to—

Before the thought even formed fully, realization struck him like cold water. He stiffened, suspicion flashing through his eyes.

The old man saw it instantly.

He laughed again.

"Young man, you're quite humorous—for someone born in time itself."

His smile stretched wider. "Every creature born from the river of existence possesses a unique body. It is… difficult for beings of my kind to possess such vessels."

A faint shiver ran down Wang Chen's back as the old man slowly shook his head.

"If I truly wanted to possess you," he whispered, "why would I bother asking first?"

The grin that spread across his face wasn't human.

It was too wide, a little too calm and just too perfectly curved.

Like a mask stretched over something far more monstrous beneath.

Wang Chen felt a wild impulse—sharp and violent—to slice the old man cleanly in half with a single sword stroke.

But reason once again chained that impulse down. Barely.

He inhaled once, slow and controlled, then met the old man's gaze head-on.

"Why should I help you?"

That was the question the All-Seeing Immortal had been waiting for.

His cracked lips stretched into an even deeper smile—one that made the entire hall feel colder.

Then—

His phantom-like form flickered, the edges of his silhouette dissolving and reforming like rippling mist. In the same instant, something small and snow-white appeared in his palm—a tiny crystal no larger than a fingernail.

But the moment it materialized, the world changed.

A pressure unlike anything Wang Chen had ever felt crashed down on the hall.

The air didn't just grow heavy—it stilled.

Hardened.

Time felt like it had been caught in a fist and squeezed.

Even the stray arcs of lightning that had crackled faintly in the room froze mid-jump, suspended like silver threads in glass.

For a moment, it felt as if he was inside chronoblade domain.

Sui Zheng's breath hitched.

His eyes locked onto the crystal with a hunger so intense it bordered on madness. His heart hammered violently—ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum—as if trying to leap out of his chest.

Some instinct older than reason whispered that the object was priceless.

More than priceless—sacred.

For a split second, he even forgot who he was standing beside.

Every fiber of his being urged him to lunge forward and seize the crystal, consequences be damned.

But Wang Chen…

What he felt went far deeper.

The shock wasn't just physical—it was existential.

His blood roared. His soul quivered.

A pull—raw, primal, irresistible—screamed for him to take that crystal, to devour it, to fuse it into his being.

It was desire stripped bare. A hunger he didn't even know he possessed.

"What is this… crystal?"

He tried—gods, he tried—to hide the tremor in his voice.

But he couldn't. A faint shake escaped, slipping through the cracks of his iron calm.

For the first time since the old man had appeared, his mask broke. A ripple of genuine emotion crossed his face.

In the dead silence that followed, someone swallowed audibly.

Gulp.

Even that small sound echoed like a shout in the frozen air.

"If you help me," the All-Seeing Immortal said slowly, each word echoing like a drop of ink falling into still water, "this Crystal of Time will be yours."

His cracked lips curled faintly, and that faint smile alone carried an immense, almost terrifying certainty.

"A century-old fragment," he continued, raising the crystal like one might hold a forbidden treasure, "condensed at the very edges of the river itself."

His voice deepened—no longer eerie, but almost reverent.

"Consume it… and you will gain one hundred years of lifespan."

The hall vibrated with the weight of those words.

This time, even Wang Chen couldn't maintain his calm façade.

A century of life.

A fragment born from time itself.

A treasure that defied the natural order of heaven and earth.

His heart pounded wildly, threatening to break free from his chest.

His mind spun out of control.

A Crystal of Time—even in ancient records, there has been no mention of such a treasure capable of increasing lifespan.

But the confusion that surged through Wang Chen was stronger than the greed.

Why?

Why would a fragment of time extend his lifespan?

Why was his body reacting so violently—as though his very soul recognized the crystal?

And most importantly—

Why was the All-Seeing Immortal offering it to him with that kind of smile?

It wasn't the smile of someone negotiating.

It wasn't the smile of someone confident.

It was the smile of a man who knew—absolutely knew—that Wang Chen wouldn't be able to refuse his offer.

A smile that said:This is inevitable.

A faint tremor passed through Wang Chen's fingers.

His throat tightened.

The old ghost wasn't merely tempting him.

He was revealing fate.

Wang Chen forced the storm in his heart to settle—barely.

He locked eyes with the ancient being and asked silently, internally:

Just what am I? A creature of time, what the hell is even that.

Why does this crystal feel like it belongs to me?

And why… why does this old geezer look at me like he is certain I'll accept?

The All-Seeing Immortal remained silent, watching him with those eerie, omniscient eyes—eyes that seemed to pierce through flesh, bone, blood, and soul.

Wang Chen felt his heart clench.

For the first time since entering this world, he truly sensed a strange and unavoidable truth.

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