Re-birth: The Beginning after the End - Chapter 86

Chapter 86: NEW ARRIVAL PART 2

One by one, his formation arrays flickered and died. Her parents weren’t just powerful cultivators, they were truly extraordinary beings, and watching her father being killed using this cheap method of control made her blood run cold.

Every cultivator stood frozen, their earlier battle fury replaced with primitive terror as they witnessed true power. The same cultivators who had fought so fiercely moments before now seemed to hold their breath, afraid even the slightest movement might draw the Avatar’s attention.

Li Hua’s hands tightened around her daggers, her celestial diamonds humming with desperate energy. She wouldn’t watch her father die, wouldn’t stand idle while his life drained away. She tensed to strike—but before she could move, an invisible force held her in place. She turned to find one of the twelve leaders looking at her, his eyes meeting hers beneath his hood. He shook his head once before turning back to the Avatar.

She struggled against the restraint, her mind screaming at her body to move, to fight, to do something—until movement caught her eye. Her mother had turned back, and the sight stole Li Hua’s breath. Tears streamed down her mother’s face—the same face that had remained strong through every storm and had never once shown fear in all their years. Those tears broke something deep inside Li Hua’s heart. If even her mother, the unshakeable pillar of their family, had lost hope…

The Avatar finally lowered his hand, releasing his hold on the life tablet. Her father’s hands dropped to his sides. The surrender was wordless but absolute. Only then did he move to stand beside their mother, his steps heavy with resignation.

Together, they knelt before the Avatar—two extraordinary beings brought low by forces beyond their control. The Avatar’s smile widened slightly, satisfaction gleaming in his ancient eyes as he watched their submission. When her father spoke, his voice carried the weight of a man choosing his final words carefully. “Can I speak with my children for a moment?”

The Avatar considered this, then nodded with elegant grace, as if granting a condemned man’s last wish. “Of course. Even the Sovereign understands the bonds of family.”

Their father rose first, reaching down to take their mother’s trembling hands in his. For a brief moment, they stood together, fingers intertwined, sharing a lifetime of love and regret in a single glance. Then, hand in hand, they walked toward the siblings. Their mother released her husband’s grip only to pull all three children into an embrace so tight it hurt. Her tears fell silently into Li Hua’s hair as she whispered, “My precious, precious children.”

Their father knelt before them, his hands—hands that had taught them cultivation, had bandaged their wounds, had applauded their successes—trembling slightly as he cupped each of their faces in turn. “Listen carefully,” his voice cracked with emotion. “Everything we did, every choice we made, was to give you a chance at freedom. To let you grow up without the burdens of the celestial plains.”

“We’ll come for you,” Li Wei promised, his usual composure crumbling as tears tracked down his face. “We’ll become strong enough—”

“No,” their mother cut him off gently. “Live. That’s all we ask. Live and be free. Your father and I chose this path knowing the consequences.”

Li Hao was sobbing openly now, his fifteen-year-old bravado completely forgotten. “But we just got strong enough to fight alongside you…”

Their father pulled them all close, his arms encircling his family one last time. “Your strength isn’t meant for vengeance or rescue,” he whispered fiercely. “It’s for protecting each other. Promise me—promise us—that you’ll stay together. That you’ll live the free lives we sacrificed everything to give you.”

Li Hua couldn’t speak, her throat too tight with unshed tears. She leaned against her father’s chest, breathing in his familiar scent of earth and water, trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

Their mother pressed her lips to each of their foreheads in turn, leaving behind a warmth that felt like a blessing. “Remember,” she whispered, “no matter what happens, no matter what you hear about us, know that every moment with you three was worth more than an eternity in the celestial plains.”

“It’s time,” the Avatar called softly, almost gently.

Their parents stood, hands lingering on their children’s shoulders. “Take care of each other,” their father said, his voice steady despite the tears in his eyes. “And remember—we love you more than heaven and earth combined.”

As their parents walked back toward the Avatar, Li Hua felt something inside her shatter and reform. The child who had played in these fields died in that moment, and something harder, something forged in grief and determination, took her place.

They had asked them to live freely, to forget about rescue or revenge. But how could she? For eighteen years, her parents had sacrificed everything—their power, their status, their very freedom—all to give their children a chance at an ordinary life filled with unconditional love. Now that she finally understood the depth of that love, she couldn’t simply let them go.

She thought about placing her parents into her inner space, a desperate idea blossoming in her mind. But was it too late? Could the Avatar tear through even that sanctuary? Her hands reached out instinctively, trembling with hope and fear, but before she could act, they tightened into fists. She pulled back, unsure if she had the strength—or the time—to make that choice.

“Ten years,” she whispered, her voice carrying across the sudden silence.

Her brothers turned to her in confusion. Their parents paused mid-step, looking back at their youngest child with a mixture of concern and surprise.

“I’ll see you in ten years, Māmā, Bàba.” Her voice carried absolute certainty, the kind that could reshape reality through sheer force of will. It wasn’t a hope or a plea—it was a promise written in steel.

The Avatar raised his hand, and reality began to distort around them. The last thing Li Hua saw was her mother’s smile, now trembling between pride and sorrow, and her father’s gaze, carrying all the love and regret that he could no longer watch his children grow—and perhaps, just perhaps, a glimmer of hope.