Dai Long hesitated, unwilling to wound his son's pride.
But when his gaze met Tao's dark, unyielding eyes, he knew that honesty would serve him better than empty reassurances.
"Yes," he admitted. "Not just that—you are still young. Knowing too much before you are ready could break you or expose you to forces that, as you are now, you have neither the strength nor the mental fortitude to resist."
Tao took a deep breath, absorbing his father's words.
Dai Long, fearing he had crushed the boy's spirit, opened his mouth to soften the blow—only to be stopped by Tao's sudden action.
The boy reached out, gripping his father's hands with all the strength his small body could muster. His fingers trembled slightly, not from fear but from sheer determination.
Then, he spoke.
"I know I'm weak right now," Tao said, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within him. "But hearing how my mother spoke of you… and seeing the strength you carry, I—I want you to help reshape me."
His demonic, dark eyes locked onto Dai Long's blood-red ones, an unshakable will burning within them.
"You're the only source of strength I have right now. But I don't want to rely on you forever—I want to stand on my own two feet." His grip tightened. "I want to remake myself. To mold myself into someone who cannot be broken. And I need your help to do it."
"Will you help me?"
Dai Long stood still, staring down at the child before him.
Tao had matured too early, his innocence stolen by tragedy. No ordinary person, child or adult, could so openly admit their weakness and still have the courage to demand strength.
But his son had.
A rare, bittersweet emotion surfaced within Dai Long—one he had not felt in a long time.
He exhaled. Then, his lips curled into something between a smirk and a smile.
"You are my son," he said, voice tinged with pride. "Of course, I will help you. I was going to do so whether you asked or not."
He lifted a finger and tapped Tao's forehead lightly.
"But remember this, my son. It is not a sin to be weak. The only sin is to accept weakness when you have the chance to grow strong."
With that, Dai Long turned and strode toward the door. Before stepping out, he paused and glanced over his shoulder.
"There's a black robe on the wall. Put it on and follow me—I'm sure you're hungry."
As if to confirm his words, Tao's stomach let out a deep, angry growl.
Dai Long chuckled as he exited.
Tao, slightly embarrassed, shook his head and got out of bed. His eyes drifted to the smooth black stone walls until he found the robe hanging against them. There were no hooks, no hangers—it simply hovered there as if suspended by unseen forces.
Shaking his head, he reached for it. The fabric was cool against his fingertips, soft yet unnervingly dense, as though woven from shadows themselves.
The moment he slipped it over his shoulders, the robe came to life, tightening and adjusting until it fit snugly against his frame.
Tao exhaled through his nose, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
"Right. We're not in Kansas anymore," he muttered.
With that, he stepped out into the hallway.
The floor beneath his bare feet was not cold, as he expected, but comfortably warm—smooth and pristine like polished marble. It was strange, unnatural even, yet undeniably luxurious.
After a brief moment of admiration, he lifted his gaze.
Ahead, Dai Long stood near a vast ledge, his hands folded behind his back, gazing silently at the endless grey sky beyond.
The weight of unseen thoughts pressed against his broad shoulders, but his presence remained as unshakable as a mountain.
Tao cleared his throat softly.
"So… which way now?"
Dai Long studied Tao for a moment, his lips curling into a faint smile.
The boy was the spitting image of himself at that age—except for his mother's hair and nose.
"You have much to learn," Dai Long mused, his voice carrying a knowing edge. "But for now, I'm just going to speed-run it for you."
Tao frowned, confused. "Wait, what do you mea—"
Before he could finish, the world around him twisted and blurred. His vision warped, his balance shifted, and the air itself seemed to ripple like disturbed water.
Then—just as suddenly as it began—it stopped.
Tao found himself seated at a medium-sized red jade table, its surface polished to perfection, reflecting the golden glow of soft ambient lighting.
Before him lay a feast.
Plates of steaming food, vibrant and aromatic, were arranged with meticulous care. A roasted, golden-brown pig-like creature rested at the center, its skin glistening with savory juices. Next to it, bite-sized pieces of snake sat atop a bed of pure white rice, drizzled with a rich, brown gravy-like sauce. Exotic fruits, strange pastries, and drinks in hues of deep blue and crimson added splashes of color to the spread.
Across from him, Dai Long was already seated, sipping calmly from a black-and-white porcelain teacup.
He smirked at Tao's blank expression.
"Dig in," he said, his deep voice carrying the slightest hint of amusement. "You'll need your strength."
With that, he returned to his tea, savoring it in quiet contemplation.
Tao, meanwhile, sat frozen. His mind struggled to process the sudden shift in reality. One moment, he was standing in the hall—now he was here, staring at food he couldn't even begin to name.
At this point, he was just numb.
His gaze lingered on the unfamiliar dishes. The roasted pig-thing looked normal enough, but the glossy, gravy-drenched snake on rice? That was another story.
It looked weird.
But Tao was starving.
Hunger gnawed at him like a rabid beast, shoving aside any hesitation. His body moved before his mind could argue, and within seconds, he was devouring the food like a wild animal.
The rich, savory meat melted on his tongue, and the thick sauce coating the snake had a complex, almost intoxicating flavor. The rice was warm and fragrant, balancing the dish perfectly.
Tao didn't care what it was. It was delicious.
Dai Long, watching his son tear into the meal with primal ferocity, chuckled softly.
The boy had much to learn—not just about strength and cultivation, but about composure, discipline, and refinement.
But that was fine.
They had time to work on these things before he met anyone beyond the safety of his domain.
Manners could wait. Strength came first.
Dai Long took another slow sip of tea, his mind already shifting toward the future. He needed to assemble a list of training materials, a proper regimen to shape Tao into the warrior he was meant to become.
More importantly, he needed an instructor—someone who could teach the boy not just combat, but the art of war, survival, and strategy.
An old, familiar scared face surfaced in his thoughts.
Dai Long's grin widened.
"Time to cash in a favor."
With that, he reached for his chopsticks and finally began eating.
…..
Sometime later, Tao sat outside on a white crystalline rocking chair, looking like a swollen pig after his feast. His feet were propped up on a small stool, his body completely relaxed as he gazed out over the vast lake and cascading waterfall before him.
The water shimmered with an almost unnatural beauty, a crystal-clear blue that reflected the soft glow of the sky. A gentle white mist curled around the lake's edges, adding an ethereal touch to the scenery. Yet, what truly caught Tao's attention was the waterfall itself—it wasn't just foaming white from the force of its descent. No, the water itself seemed pure white, as if it had never been touched by the stains of the world.
It was strange. But Tao didn't dwell on it.
For the first time in both of his lives, he felt at peace.
It was a foreign feeling—his previous life had been nothing but pain and suffering. Yet now, through this second chance at existence, he was able to experience something he had never known before. Even if this peace was fleeting, even if it was borrowed time, it was still his.
But this new life… it came at a cost.
Tao's heart grew heavy as he thought about Dai Long. The man who now called him "son." The man whose actual son had died, his soul fractured and incomplete. Tao had taken over that body. He had fused with that lost soul to become who he was now.
No matter how much he enjoyed this newfound bond, a lingering guilt gnawed at the edges of his conscience. Dai Long deserved the truth.
He couldn't lie to him. Even if he tried, Tao had the distinct feeling that Dai Long would see through it. The man hadn't lied to him once since he woke up. It wouldn't be fair to deceive him in return.
As Tao struggled to find the right words, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted.
Dai Long appeared beside him, sitting in another chair as if he had been there the entire time. He was holding a long red pipe between his fingers, the scent of burning herbs filling the air.
Taking a deep inhale, Dai Long exhaled a stream of thick white smoke. The smoke twisted and coiled before shaping into the form of a bird. The bird flapped its wings and darted toward Tao, circling him playfully before drifting over the lake, where it settled upon the water, resting as if it were alive.
Tao stared, utterly amazed.
Even in a world of cultivation, Dai Long's control over such a small, unnecessary thing was perfect. It was effortless.
But Tao's awe quickly faded, the weight of his burden settling over him again.
His fingers clenched into a fist, his nerves rattling. He didn't want to ruin this moment. This peace.
But Dai Long deserved to know.
Tao swallowed hard and cleared his throat, though hesitation still clung to him like a chain.
"There's… something I need to tell you," he said, his voice laced with uncertainty. "And it may change the way you see me."
Dai Long arched an eyebrow, curiosity flashing in his crimson eyes.
Tao inhaled sharply, forcing himself to speak before he lost his nerve.
"I… I'm not from this world," he confessed, his voice firm despite the fear pressing against his chest. "I was reincarnated into your son's body. His soul was fractured, broken, and I fused with it to become what I am now."
The moment the words left his lips, an eerie silence fell over them.
Tao held his breath.
He had expected anger. Shock. Something.
But instead—Laughter.
Deep, rumbling laughter.
Dai Long chuckled, shaking his head as he took another drag from his pipe. "Oh, that small thing?" he said between smirks. "I already knew, son."
Tao's mouth fell open.
"H-How?" he stammered.
Blowing out another plume of smoke, Dai Long smirked. "There's a lot you don't understand about this world, Tao. In due time, I'll teach you everything you need to know."
Then his gaze softened.
"But before all that, there's something I want you to understand," Dai Long continued, his tone turning serious. "It doesn't matter where you came from. It doesn't matter who you were in your past life."
He tapped his pipe against the edge of his chair, letting the embers fall to the wind.
"In this life, you are my son."
Tao's breath caught in his throat.
Dai Long's expression held no doubt, no hesitation—only unwavering certainty.
"In fact," he continued, "because of you, my wife was able to find peace. She let go of her resentment and was finally able to move on. That is something only you could have done."
He leaned back, his grin returning. "So, for that—I thank you."
Tao was speechless.
Dai Long's words echoed in his mind, over and over again. The weight of them was too much, too deep to process all at once.
For so long, Tao had feared that he was merely a thief. That he had stolen someone else's place.
But hearing this—hearing his father say these words…
A lump formed in Tao's throat.
Seeing his son so stunned, Dai Long chuckled again, a rare, genuine warmth filling his voice.
"Dazed already, huh?" he mused. "We've barely even started, boy."
But for Tao, those words meant everything.
And for the first time since being reborn, he felt something he never thought possible.
Belonging.