Re-birth: The Beginning after the End - Chapter 102

Chapter 102: UNSTABLE TEMPORAL DISTORTIONS

He caught her right hand in his before she could retreat, his touch burning like captured lightning against her frost-chilled skin. The gesture was both tender and presumptuous – so perfectly Mo Xing that it made her teeth clench. Before she could snatch her hand away, he leaned in and pressed his lips to her skin, the kiss carrying a weight of intention that made her pulse stutter traitorously.

“For luck, little tempest,” he whispered, his gaze burning into hers with an intensity that stripped away all pretense of casual flirtation. For one unguarded moment, she glimpsed something raw and honest beneath his careful mischief – a promise, or perhaps a warning. Then his familiar smirk returned, and he stepped back into the rift. The void consumed him, leaving her with the ghost of his touch and the maddening certainty that he’d done it just to unbalance her.

“You—” The word tore from her throat, equal parts fury and something far more dangerous, echoing across the frozen landscape. But he was already gone, leaving her with nothing but confusion and the phantom warmth of his lips on her skin. She turned her turbulent emotions toward Mo Tao instead, who immediately slapped his hands over his eyes with theatrical flair.

“I saw nothing! Nothing at all!” he declared, though his barely suppressed delight leaked through every dramatic gesture. “Though I must say, Brother Xing’s technique was quite smooth—” He quickly covered his eyes again as Li Hua’s killing intent spiked, her carefully maintained control fracturing under the weight of too many unresolved feelings. “No, no, I mean—I’m blind! Completely blind! Just a harmless, blind cultivator who definitely didn’t see that perfectly executed goodbye kiss. Though the timing was rather—eep!”

He spun around, hands still firmly pressed over his eyes, though his voice carried a hint of genuine concern beneath the theatrics. “Is it safe to look yet? Has your murderous aura dissipated? Should I start planning Brother Xing’s funeral, or…?”

“Let’s go,” Li Hua said sharply, turning away to hide the treacherous flush that threatened to betray her. Her fingers unconsciously traced the spot where his lips had touched, and she yanked her hand down with savage force. She couldn’t afford these distractions, not with her brother’s life hanging in the balance. The Frozen Peaks loomed before them, their jagged summits disappearing into clouds heavy with snow, offering a welcome focus for her scattered thoughts. “How do we even begin to find my brother in all this?”

Her fingers unconsciously twisted the jade ring on her hand, the cool stone a anchor to memories that threatened to overwhelm her. That day flooded back with cruel clarity, each detail preserved like insects in amber despite the chaos that followed.

“These were meant for your eighteenth birthdays,” her mother had whispered, pressing a ring into each of their palms. Her fingers had lingered, memorizing the feeling of each child’s hand one last time. “They’re not ordinary spatial rings. Your father and I… we spent years preparing them, creating safe havens across different realms. Places where you can hide, survive, and stay together.”

Their father had moved closer, his weathered hand resting on their mother’s shoulder. “We mapped the same locations in each ring—places where the realm barriers are thinnest, where crossing is possible without detection. Secret valleys, hidden cities, forgotten sanctuaries.”

Li Hua raised her hand, channeling her essence into it as the pale green jade began to glow with a gentle, pulsing light. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind: “The rings will resonate with each other, showing you the way to your siblings.”

The ring’s glow strengthened as she turned toward one particular peak, like a beacon cutting through the swirling snow. Her mother’s voice seemed to whisper with the wind: “No matter what happens, no matter which realm you flee to, you’ll always be able to find each other.”

“This way,” Li Hua said, walking north and following the ring’s guidance.

Mo Tao followed close behind, for once maintaining a blessed silence as they picked their way across the treacherous landscape. With each step forward, the ring’s pulse grew more intense, confirming they were moving in the right direction.

After what felt like hours of trudging through knee-deep snow and navigating around sheets of ancient ice, the ring’s light suddenly flared brilliantly. Before them, partially hidden by a curtain of falling snow, a dark opening gaped in the mountainside—a cave mouth that seemed to swallow all light that touched it. Even from a distance, Li Hua could feel the temporal distortions Old Tang had mentioned, making the air itself feel thick and strange, as if time flowed differently here than in the world outside

Li Hua studied the cave entrance, her instincts cataloguing every detail. Frost crystals formed and shattered in irregular patterns around the opening, as if time itself couldn’t decide which moment to settle on. The darkness within seemed almost alive, pulsing with an energy that made her inner core shudder in warning.

“Those temporal fluctuations…” Mo Tao’s voice had lost its usual theatrical quality, replaced by rare seriousness. “They’re not natural. Someone’s been manipulating the flow of time in there.” He pointed to where ice formations grew and receded like breathing things. “I’ve seen cultivators get trapped between moments, neither fully in one time nor another…”

Li Hua gave a short nod, her fingers finding the familiar hilts of her daggers. The ring burned against her skin, urging her forward even as her heartbeat quickened with a familiar pre-battle rhythm. This wasn’t the controlled anticipation of an assassination—this was raw fear for her brother mixed with deadly purpose.

Inside, the cave was both warmer and colder than it should be—patches of air that burned like summer heat alternating with pockets of frost that could freeze breath solid. Their footsteps echoed strangely, sometimes reaching their ears before their feet touched the ground, other times delayed by several seconds. The walls themselves seemed to shift and breathe, ice formations growing and receding like crystalline lungs.

The ring’s pulse grew stronger with each step, but even this familiar guidance felt warped by the cave’s strange properties. Sometimes it would beat like a racing heart, other times slowing to an almost complete stop—as if her brother existed in multiple moments simultaneously.

A scream cut through the darkness—Li Wei’s voice, fragmented and wrong, echoing from different points in time. Li Hua surged forward, each step becoming more overwhelming as temporal distortions intensified—one footfall landing in what felt like thick syrup, the next skipping ahead like a stone across water.

“Wait!” Mo Tao’s warning came from both behind and ahead of her. “The temporal currents—they’re not stable!”

Through the chaos ahead, she saw her eldest brother suspended in the center of a massive formation array. Cultivation-suppressing chains wrapped around his limbs, their cruel runes pulsing with sickly light as they drained his essence. His scholarly frame hung limply in the air, dark hair matted with blood and frost.

“The formations,” Mo Tao whispered, horror evident in his voice. “If we disrupt them wrongly… we could trap him in a temporal loop, or scatter his existence across different moments of time.”

Li Wei’s eyes focused on her with painful clarity. Despite his wounds, his lips curved into that familiar gentle smile—the one he’d always given her when she was small and needed reassurance. But this time, it held a desperate edge.

“Run, sister,” he managed to whisper, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “Trap… it’s a—”

The formation arrays suddenly flared with blinding light, their corrupted essence surging in response to Li Hua’s presence. A cold laugh echoed from the shadows, coalescing into a hooded figure that stepped out of multiple shadows at once. Each movement left trailing echoes, as if parts of him existed in different moments simultaneously. The hooded figure was the false elder—the same voice, the same obscured face hidden beneath his hood.

“How predictable,” the figure’s voice resonated with unnatural harmonics. “The little sister comes to save her brother. But tell me—did you really think they could protect you forever?”

Li Hua’s daggers materialized in her hands, but Mo Tao’s warning cut through her combat focus: “Don’t! Any sudden movement could shatter the temporal equilibrium!”

The false elder gestured, and the arrays pulsed brighter, drawing a cry of pain from Li Wei. “One wrong move, and your beloved brother might age a thousand years in an instant—or scatter across time itself, forever caught between moments.”

Li Hua forced herself to remain still, though every instinct screamed at her to attack. “What do you want?”

“What I want?” The false elder’s voice twisted through time, each word echoing with centuries of bitterness. “I want what was denied to me. The power of the sixth realm, the recognition I deserved.” His form flickered between moments as he moved closer. “And now, through your family’s unique dragon bloodline, I’ll take it by force.”

“So you hid our bloodline from the Avatar,” Li Hua’s voice carried a dangerous edge, “just so you could take them for yourself?”

His smile widened beneath the hood, a thing of twisted satisfaction. He gestured at Li Wei, and the formation arrays pulsed with sickly light. “Your brother’s core and bloodline alone contains remarkable power, but combined with yours…” A gleam of madness showed beneath his hood. “Three siblings, three pure dragon manifestations. The resonance will be enough to tear through the realm barriers themselves.”

“You’re insane,” Mo Tao’s voice cut through the temporal echoes. “Forcing realm barriers open like that—you’ll create a void breach that could destroy everything within leagues!”

“A necessary risk,” the hooded man replied dismissively. “Now, little sister, you have a choice.” His hand raised, causing the chains around Li Wei to constrict. “Join your brother willingly, or watch as I extract his core piece by piece across a thousand moments of time. I wonder—” malicious amusement colored his voice, “—how many times can one person experience the same moment of agony before their mind shatters?”

Li Hua’s mind raced, her assassin’s training automatically cataloging options and outcomes. The formation arrays created a complex web of temporal energy—disrupting one might collapse them all, potentially destroying her brother in the process. Even Mo Tao, for all his intelligence, seemed hesitant to move against such unstable temporal mechanics.