In this place so quiet that it seemed as if time itself had stopped, a voice suddenly rang out. Its tone was one of extreme indifference, with no fluctuations or any trace of emotion.
The voice did not originate from any specific place, but instead seemed to come from every direction—from the air, from the earth, from everywhere together, its source impossible to pinpoint.
Clutching his head as he sat cross-legged on the broken stone steps, Garlan raised his head. His fingers had already thoroughly disheveled that soft and short pale blond hair, until it hung messily from his forehead.
Hearing this voice, he let out a long sigh, helplessness written all over his face.
Yes, he failed again.
Counting this attempt, he had already heard this single sentence a full four times. Remembering the very first time, when he had so confidently thumped his own chest and promised to get it done, he dearly wished to transmigrate back in time right now and slap his own face. He desperately wanted to point to his past self and yell, “Who exactly gave you this level of confidence?!”
Garlan stood up and turned around. When his gaze passed over the light gray altar behind him, his heart leapt in his chest. It was still that familiar stone altar, but there were already significant differences compared to its appearance when he had first come to this place. Although in the beginning there were quite a few small cracks in the stone, none were serious. Instead, they made the altar appear more ancient and mysterious, giving it a unique time-weathered beauty.
But at this moment, four deep crevices had broken apart the altar. In particular, the fracture that had just appeared almost split the entire altar into two separate halves. It seemed as if in the very next second, it would shatter completely and become nothing but a pile of useless gravel.
——You have five chances to start over from the beginning——
The words once spoken by that voice sounded in the youth’s ear once again, and he subconsciously clenched his fists.
Five times.
Just five times.
Now, there was only one final time left.
If this attempt ended in failure as well, then…
Garlan sucked in a deep breath, dispelling those terrible consequences from his mind and calming himself down. At first, he had regarded this mission to “fulfill destiny” as a game with repeated retries. Only after two deaths did he begin to get nervous. However, during the third and fourth times, he had worked very hard, truly like his very life depended on it. Yet in the end, he was still defeated by that man.
That man… was truly too terrible, almost without a single flaw.
No matter what aspect they competed in, that man would absolutely crush him.
Even now, Garlan had no idea what he should do in order to emerge victorious over that terrifying fellow.
That fellow really showed no mercy.
Though regarding that matter, Garlan had nothing to complain about.
After all, even blood brothers would turn on each other in their wars for the throne. While he and Heimos were completely unrelated, even if one searched eight generations back in their family trees.
Although he was not a direct descendant of the royal line, ever since he was established as “Prince Brother1,” Garlan possessed a nominal right to inherit the throne.
And though Heimos was not given the title of “Prince Brother,” he possessed the direct blood of the royal family through his maternal grandmother, so he also had a right to inherit the throne.
However, Heimos’s position in the line of inheritance was lower than the “Prince Brother” Garlan’s.
Therefore, only by killing him could Heimos sit on the throne.
“Are you sure your so-called gods didn’t get it wrong?”
He couldn’t help but ask.
“Is the son of destiny really me, and not that Heimos fellow?”
[The gods cannot be wrong.]
The emotionless voice answered.
Then why would they let the son of destiny get killed?
Garlan subconsciously complained in his heart.
However, in this place, even if he didn’t say anything out loud, the other party seemed to be able to hear the very thoughts in his heart. The voice immediately retaliated with ice-cold disdain.
[Even destiny itself cannot change the asininity and hopelessness of its bearer.]
Garlan: “……….”
As a messenger of the gods, shouldn’t you be free of all emotions and desires, as unmoving as a mountain? What’s with this mocking tone?
The suffocated youth couldn’t help but open his mouth to complain.
“You can’t blame it all on me… I only get a single year’s worth of time per attempt, what else can I do?”
He felt that the specific time point he was being continuously sent back to was a very inopportune moment. At that time point, he was only fifteen or sixteen years old, while his opponent was actually a few years older. In addition, the supporting factions for both sides had already mostly coalesced, and the battle lines were already drawn. It was unclear what exactly the original body had done, but his influence was objectively much weaker than Heimos’s. A single year was nowhere near enough time to alter the balance of power between them. And since the other party almost never made any mistakes or revealed any flaws, he didn’t even have a clue where to start.
Every single time, he wasn’t able to live long before getting killed. At least this time he had held on for a whole year and a half. Wasn’t that a great leap in progress compared to the first attempt, where he wasn’t even able to survive one year?
He comforted himself so in the bottom of his heart.
Apparently the voice heard his self-consoling thoughts, and responded again.
[Heh2.]
Garlan: “……….”
I was wrong, please no bully.
When that thought popped into his head, the youth’s heart skipped a beat. Crap, the other party probably heard this sentence too, so he was likely in for another round of ridicule.
However, this time the other party seemed to be deaf to his thoughts. For a long while, that voice did not appear again.
Garlan was a little perturbed and uneasy. During this long silence, he had no idea what the other party was thinking. Did it think he was too useless to the point where it didn’t wish to waste any more time on him? As a result, was it planning to withhold that one last chance?
Since the voice didn’t speak, he didn’t know what to say either. All he could do was stand there in a daze, blankly staring at that old gray altar which looked on the verge of breaking apart. A breeze swept over the jade crowns of the tall trees, shaking the branches and leaves until they rustled quietly. Those numerous broken obelisks encircled the place where he stood, their enormous shadows falling on his body. Even though each and every one had been worn away by the elements, not even a single pebble crumbled off their bodies.
After a long time, the voice finally rang out again.
[Prepare to start over.]
As soon as those words sounded, Garlan only felt his head start to buzz and thud, as if his skull had been hit with a heavy object. His vision darkened and the world seemed to fade away.
On the broken altar, the figure of the boy suddenly disappeared.
With a loud explosion, the split along the gray altar’s surface abruptly expanded and widened. The very next second, the altar completely burst apart, broken rocks spraying into the air and scattering all over the place. Immediately following it, the countless towering obelisks surrounding the altar crumbled and shattered too, toppling to the ground one by one, the earth itself quaking at each impact.
Accompanied by the thundering rumble of collapsing stone, in the blink of an eye, that once magnificent and huge altar had fallen to complete ruin, leaving behind only a field of fragmented boulders.
[……one last time.]
Alongside the altar’s collapse, the voice too faded away into annihilation.
[Look out for yourself.]
When he regained consciousness, Garlan pressed his hand to his head and slowly opened his eyes. According to his memory, the first thing he should see when he opens his eyes should be his ornate bedroom with its snow-white velvet curtains, as well as a kneeling beautiful maid gently fanning him with a gold-embroidered iridescent peacock feather fan.
A wind swept over his cheek, stirring the strands of his hair. It wasn’t the gentle breeze of a fan, but the whistling wind that could only be found outdoors, bringing with it a breath of water. He could vaguely hear the rustling of ruffled palm tree fronds, and catch the faint fragrance of lotus flowers.
Feeling something was off, Garlan looked up and immediately froze.
What appeared before his eyes was an extremely familiar scene. Those imposing and ancient white city walls, those straight-backed rows of green palm trees, those stone paths with beautiful designs paved by colorful cobblestones… He himself was currently standing before the white stone sculpture beside the pool, his gaze fixed on those pale blue lotuses swaying amidst their viridian leaves.
No way, did he actually return to the very moment before his death?
Dying right upon arriving, how the heck is he supposed to play this out?!
His hair standing on end out of terror, Garlan rubbed his eyes and took another look, and felt something was off again. The fiery sun in the sky above shone upon the earth, dazzling this rear garden with its blinding light.
Before he died, there had clearly been a torrential rainstorm. Even now, his body still remembered the dull pain left behind by those large raindrops the size of pebbles pounding his flesh, until he had almost toppled over from their force.
Another gust of wind blew by, and his legs shivered from the chill. With every passing second, Garlan felt everything seemed to be more and more off. But at this moment he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong. All he could do was support himself by resting a hand on the white marble sculpture that was taller than himself, using it as leverage to take a few disoriented steps forward.
Wait a second.
Taller than himself?
He remembered that before, this stone sculpture clearly only reached his waist. How could it be taller than himself?
Garlan subconsciously turned his head, and naturally caught sight of his own hand resting on the stone sculpture. That hand was small and tender, the skin so white that it seemed to be glowing in the bright sunlight.
No, no, no, his hands were not like this, he clearly remembered they weren’t like this, his skin should be on the tan side, and there was no way his hands could be this small.
So small that they seemed to be like a child’s—
Garlan suddenly strode forward, one foot stepping into the water of the pool.
Looking down, he saw his own reflection wavering slightly in the clear water, and his eyes abruptly widened.
Reflected in the water was a child who looked to be only seven or eight years old.
Pale blonde hair, soft and fluffy, nestled around a stunned little face the size of a man’s palm. And those little arms and legs, like lotus roots, round and tender.
No, wait just a sec, what’s going on here?
Did something go wrong? Did he accidentally get reborn into someone else’s body?
The child stared at the water for a while, utterly dumbfounded.
But, although the age was very wrong… this face, this appearance… If grown up a little, it looked like it indeed… really was a miniature version of himself.
Garlan suddenly remembered his previous complaint to the voice: that he only had one year per attempt, which wasn’t enough time for him to do anything.
Could it be that the messenger of the gods took that complaint into account and deliberately gave him some more time, making it so that he was reborn further back into his childhood?
Another gust of wind blew across the water, causing ripples to spread across the surface. The little child shivered, feeling the wind chill his lower body.
…….
Garlan finally understood why his entire body felt off!
He quickly brought his knees together and clamped his thighs with a haste that could almost be called helter-skelter.
That thigh was thoroughly chilled by the blowing wind.
Every attempt before this, he had been fifteen or sixteen when reborn, so he wasn’t able to remember this part until now. But at this moment, his memory was being thoroughly jogged by the wind chilling his thighs as well as… a certain indescribable area of his body.
Here
In this dynasty
Following the customs of this place
Children here… Do. Not. Wear. Any. Underwear!!!
Garlan clamped his legs together in a very awkward posture, his little hands desperately trying to pull down the clothes that currently only covered up to half of his thigh. All those matters of grievances and hatreds, ages and time points, only having one life left, etc. were all thrown on the back burner. Currently, the only thought in his mind was: no matter what, he first needed to find a pair of underwear to put on.
Just as he was fiercely wringing his memory for possible locations where he might be able to find underwear, a hand suddenly stretched out from the side and patted his shoulder.
He unconsciously turned his head. With that glance, his gaze met a pair of incomparably familiar golden red eyes.
In an instant, the memory of what had just happened not long ago in this very place suddenly flashed through his mind.
It seemed as if he had once again returned to that moment not long ago, that moment where the owner of those eyes pierced his heart with a sword, nailing his whole body to the wall.
His heart violently trembled, his brain buzzed and hummed. Death’s memory and shadow instantly enveloped his entire consciousness.
His body instinctively wanted to avoid the person by his side, almost staggering backwards in retreat. But he had forgotten the ground next to the pool was covered in uneven stones, so with this panicked step back, his foot hit a particularly large stone.
Trip.
Garlan instantly lost his balance, his entire body falling backwards. But just as he was toppling over, another gust of wind rushed by, lifting up the hem of the tunic that was already only barely covering his thigh.
As a result, when he tumbled backward onto the stones in front of that person, feet waving at the sky…… He instinctively reached out, moving the fastest he’d ever moved in his entire life, to press the hem of his clothes lifted by the wind back down.
The end result of all this was: when he fell to the ground, he did so in a thoroughly bizarre and ridiculous posture, with his hands pressed against the bottom of his clothes to block a certain key body part.
Garlan stuck in a very odd prostrate pose: “…………”
The youth with golden red eyes: “………………”
The scene was one of extreme awkwardness.
Footnotes:
1. 王弟 = literally “prince + younger brother”. In the context of this novel, it’s a formal title. You’ll see later whose younger brother we’re talking about
2. 呵 is one of many expressions of laughter in Chinese netizen culture. In this context, it is a particularly sarcastic/mocking form of laughter, basically equivalent to saying “wow you’re a dumbass.”
In this place so quiet that it seemed as if time itself had stopped, a voice suddenly rang out. Its tone was one of extreme indifference, with no fluctuations or any trace of emotion.
The voice did not originate from any specific place, but instead seemed to come from every direction—from the air, from the earth, from everywhere together, its source impossible to pinpoint.
Clutching his head as he sat cross-legged on the broken stone steps, Garlan raised his head. His fingers had already thoroughly disheveled that soft and short pale blond hair, until it hung messily from his forehead.
Hearing this voice, he let out a long sigh, helplessness written all over his face.
Yes, he failed again.
Counting this attempt, he had already heard this single sentence a full four times. Remembering the very first time, when he had so confidently thumped his own chest and promised to get it done, he dearly wished to transmigrate back in time right now and slap his own face. He desperately wanted to point to his past self and yell, “Who exactly gave you this level of confidence?!”
Garlan stood up and turned around. When his gaze passed over the light gray altar behind him, his heart leapt in his chest. It was still that familiar stone altar, but there were already significant differences compared to its appearance when he had first come to this place. Although in the beginning there were quite a few small cracks in the stone, none were serious. Instead, they made the altar appear more ancient and mysterious, giving it a unique time-weathered beauty.
But at this moment, four deep crevices had broken apart the altar. In particular, the fracture that had just appeared almost split the entire altar into two separate halves. It seemed as if in the very next second, it would shatter completely and become nothing but a pile of useless gravel.
——You have five chances to start over from the beginning——
The words once spoken by that voice sounded in the youth’s ear once again, and he subconsciously clenched his fists.
Five times.
Just five times.
Now, there was only one final time left.
If this attempt ended in failure as well, then…
Garlan sucked in a deep breath, dispelling those terrible consequences from his mind and calming himself down. At first, he had regarded this mission to “fulfill destiny” as a game with repeated retries. Only after two deaths did he begin to get nervous. However, during the third and fourth times, he had worked very hard, truly like his very life depended on it. Yet in the end, he was still defeated by that man.
That man… was truly too terrible, almost without a single flaw.
No matter what aspect they competed in, that man would absolutely crush him.
Even now, Garlan had no idea what he should do in order to emerge victorious over that terrifying fellow.
That fellow really showed no mercy.
Though regarding that matter, Garlan had nothing to complain about.
After all, even blood brothers would turn on each other in their wars for the throne. While he and Heimos were completely unrelated, even if one searched eight generations back in their family trees.
Although he was not a direct descendant of the royal line, ever since he was established as “Prince Brother1,” Garlan possessed a nominal right to inherit the throne.
And though Heimos was not given the title of “Prince Brother,” he possessed the direct blood of the royal family through his maternal grandmother, so he also had a right to inherit the throne.
However, Heimos’s position in the line of inheritance was lower than the “Prince Brother” Garlan’s.
Therefore, only by killing him could Heimos sit on the throne.
“Are you sure your so-called gods didn’t get it wrong?”
He couldn’t help but ask.
“Is the son of destiny really me, and not that Heimos fellow?”
[The gods cannot be wrong.]
The emotionless voice answered.
Then why would they let the son of destiny get killed?
Garlan subconsciously complained in his heart.
However, in this place, even if he didn’t say anything out loud, the other party seemed to be able to hear the very thoughts in his heart. The voice immediately retaliated with ice-cold disdain.
[Even destiny itself cannot change the asininity and hopelessness of its bearer.]
Garlan: “……….”
As a messenger of the gods, shouldn’t you be free of all emotions and desires, as unmoving as a mountain? What’s with this mocking tone?
The suffocated youth couldn’t help but open his mouth to complain.
“You can’t blame it all on me… I only get a single year’s worth of time per attempt, what else can I do?”
He felt that the specific time point he was being continuously sent back to was a very inopportune moment. At that time point, he was only fifteen or sixteen years old, while his opponent was actually a few years older. In addition, the supporting factions for both sides had already mostly coalesced, and the battle lines were already drawn. It was unclear what exactly the original body had done, but his influence was objectively much weaker than Heimos’s. A single year was nowhere near enough time to alter the balance of power between them. And since the other party almost never made any mistakes or revealed any flaws, he didn’t even have a clue where to start.
Every single time, he wasn’t able to live long before getting killed. At least this time he had held on for a whole year and a half. Wasn’t that a great leap in progress compared to the first attempt, where he wasn’t even able to survive one year?
He comforted himself so in the bottom of his heart.
Apparently the voice heard his self-consoling thoughts, and responded again.
[Heh2.]
Garlan: “……….”
I was wrong, please no bully.
When that thought popped into his head, the youth’s heart skipped a beat. Crap, the other party probably heard this sentence too, so he was likely in for another round of ridicule.
However, this time the other party seemed to be deaf to his thoughts. For a long while, that voice did not appear again.
Garlan was a little perturbed and uneasy. During this long silence, he had no idea what the other party was thinking. Did it think he was too useless to the point where it didn’t wish to waste any more time on him? As a result, was it planning to withhold that one last chance?
Since the voice didn’t speak, he didn’t know what to say either. All he could do was stand there in a daze, blankly staring at that old gray altar which looked on the verge of breaking apart. A breeze swept over the jade crowns of the tall trees, shaking the branches and leaves until they rustled quietly. Those numerous broken obelisks encircled the place where he stood, their enormous shadows falling on his body. Even though each and every one had been worn away by the elements, not even a single pebble crumbled off their bodies.
After a long time, the voice finally rang out again.
[Prepare to start over.]
As soon as those words sounded, Garlan only felt his head start to buzz and thud, as if his skull had been hit with a heavy object. His vision darkened and the world seemed to fade away.
On the broken altar, the figure of the boy suddenly disappeared.
With a loud explosion, the split along the gray altar’s surface abruptly expanded and widened. The very next second, the altar completely burst apart, broken rocks spraying into the air and scattering all over the place. Immediately following it, the countless towering obelisks surrounding the altar crumbled and shattered too, toppling to the ground one by one, the earth itself quaking at each impact.
Accompanied by the thundering rumble of collapsing stone, in the blink of an eye, that once magnificent and huge altar had fallen to complete ruin, leaving behind only a field of fragmented boulders.
[……one last time.]
Alongside the altar’s collapse, the voice too faded away into annihilation.
[Look out for yourself.]
When he regained consciousness, Garlan pressed his hand to his head and slowly opened his eyes. According to his memory, the first thing he should see when he opens his eyes should be his ornate bedroom with its snow-white velvet curtains, as well as a kneeling beautiful maid gently fanning him with a gold-embroidered iridescent peacock feather fan.
A wind swept over his cheek, stirring the strands of his hair. It wasn’t the gentle breeze of a fan, but the whistling wind that could only be found outdoors, bringing with it a breath of water. He could vaguely hear the rustling of ruffled palm tree fronds, and catch the faint fragrance of lotus flowers.
Feeling something was off, Garlan looked up and immediately froze.
What appeared before his eyes was an extremely familiar scene. Those imposing and ancient white city walls, those straight-backed rows of green palm trees, those stone paths with beautiful designs paved by colorful cobblestones… He himself was currently standing before the white stone sculpture beside the pool, his gaze fixed on those pale blue lotuses swaying amidst their viridian leaves.
No way, did he actually return to the very moment before his death?
Dying right upon arriving, how the heck is he supposed to play this out?!
His hair standing on end out of terror, Garlan rubbed his eyes and took another look, and felt something was off again. The fiery sun in the sky above shone upon the earth, dazzling this rear garden with its blinding light.
Before he died, there had clearly been a torrential rainstorm. Even now, his body still remembered the dull pain left behind by those large raindrops the size of pebbles pounding his flesh, until he had almost toppled over from their force.
Another gust of wind blew by, and his legs shivered from the chill. With every passing second, Garlan felt everything seemed to be more and more off. But at this moment he couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was wrong. All he could do was support himself by resting a hand on the white marble sculpture that was taller than himself, using it as leverage to take a few disoriented steps forward.
Wait a second.
Taller than himself?
He remembered that before, this stone sculpture clearly only reached his waist. How could it be taller than himself?
Garlan subconsciously turned his head, and naturally caught sight of his own hand resting on the stone sculpture. That hand was small and tender, the skin so white that it seemed to be glowing in the bright sunlight.
No, no, no, his hands were not like this, he clearly remembered they weren’t like this, his skin should be on the tan side, and there was no way his hands could be this small.
So small that they seemed to be like a child’s—
Garlan suddenly strode forward, one foot stepping into the water of the pool.
Looking down, he saw his own reflection wavering slightly in the clear water, and his eyes abruptly widened.
Reflected in the water was a child who looked to be only seven or eight years old.
Pale blonde hair, soft and fluffy, nestled around a stunned little face the size of a man’s palm. And those little arms and legs, like lotus roots, round and tender.
No, wait just a sec, what’s going on here?
Did something go wrong? Did he accidentally get reborn into someone else’s body?
The child stared at the water for a while, utterly dumbfounded.
But, although the age was very wrong… this face, this appearance… If grown up a little, it looked like it indeed… really was a miniature version of himself.
Garlan suddenly remembered his previous complaint to the voice: that he only had one year per attempt, which wasn’t enough time for him to do anything.
Could it be that the messenger of the gods took that complaint into account and deliberately gave him some more time, making it so that he was reborn further back into his childhood?
Another gust of wind blew across the water, causing ripples to spread across the surface. The little child shivered, feeling the wind chill his lower body.
…….
Garlan finally understood why his entire body felt off!
He quickly brought his knees together and clamped his thighs with a haste that could almost be called helter-skelter.
That thigh was thoroughly chilled by the blowing wind.
Every attempt before this, he had been fifteen or sixteen when reborn, so he wasn’t able to remember this part until now. But at this moment, his memory was being thoroughly jogged by the wind chilling his thighs as well as… a certain indescribable area of his body.
Here
In this dynasty
Following the customs of this place
Children here… Do. Not. Wear. Any. Underwear!!!
Garlan clamped his legs together in a very awkward posture, his little hands desperately trying to pull down the clothes that currently only covered up to half of his thigh. All those matters of grievances and hatreds, ages and time points, only having one life left, etc. were all thrown on the back burner. Currently, the only thought in his mind was: no matter what, he first needed to find a pair of underwear to put on.
Just as he was fiercely wringing his memory for possible locations where he might be able to find underwear, a hand suddenly stretched out from the side and patted his shoulder.
He unconsciously turned his head. With that glance, his gaze met a pair of incomparably familiar golden red eyes.
In an instant, the memory of what had just happened not long ago in this very place suddenly flashed through his mind.
It seemed as if he had once again returned to that moment not long ago, that moment where the owner of those eyes pierced his heart with a sword, nailing his whole body to the wall.
His heart violently trembled, his brain buzzed and hummed. Death’s memory and shadow instantly enveloped his entire consciousness.
His body instinctively wanted to avoid the person by his side, almost staggering backwards in retreat. But he had forgotten the ground next to the pool was covered in uneven stones, so with this panicked step back, his foot hit a particularly large stone.
Trip.
Garlan instantly lost his balance, his entire body falling backwards. But just as he was toppling over, another gust of wind rushed by, lifting up the hem of the tunic that was already only barely covering his thigh.
As a result, when he tumbled backward onto the stones in front of that person, feet waving at the sky…… He instinctively reached out, moving the fastest he’d ever moved in his entire life, to press the hem of his clothes lifted by the wind back down.
The end result of all this was: when he fell to the ground, he did so in a thoroughly bizarre and ridiculous posture, with his hands pressed against the bottom of his clothes to block a certain key body part.
Garlan stuck in a very odd prostrate pose: “…………”
The youth with golden red eyes: “………………”
The scene was one of extreme awkwardness.
Footnotes:
1. 王弟 = literally “prince + younger brother”. In the context of this novel, it’s a formal title. You’ll see later whose younger brother we’re talking about
2. 呵 is one of many expressions of laughter in Chinese netizen culture. In this context, it is a particularly sarcastic/mocking form of laughter, basically equivalent to saying “wow you’re a dumbass.”
