## Chapter 6: A World Still Warm
Li Tianchen descended the stairs just as the morning sunlight spilled fully into the hall.
The scent reached him first.
Warm rice.
Fresh vegetables sizzling lightly in oil.
A familiar fragrance that carried memory far deeper than any cultivation technique ever could.
His steps slowed unconsciously.
In the open kitchen, his mother Ji Ruyan stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, movements gentle and practiced. Time had not yet carved lines of worry into her face. Her expression was relaxed, eyes soft, lips curved faintly as she tasted the soup.
Beside her was Zhao Meilin, his aunt, occasionally leaning in to comment, her tone animated as she helped arrange dishes. The two women laughed quietly over something trivial—family gossip, perhaps—unaware that to Li Tianchen, the scene was more precious than any immortal treasure.
His chest tightened.
Across the living hall, his father Li Zhenyu sat with a newspaper spread neatly before him, glasses perched on his nose. His posture was straight, composed, the air of a man still firmly in control of his world. Beside him sat Li Zhenfeng, Tianchen's uncle, pointing at a section of the paper while speaking in a low voice.
"The expansion is moving faster than expected," Li Zhenfeng said. "If we stabilize supply chains this quarter, the profits will exceed projections."
Li Zhenyu nodded thoughtfully. "But we shouldn't rush. The foundation must remain solid."
Their voices were calm.
Confident.
Alive.
On the couch nearby, his younger brother Li Tianhao lay sprawled lazily, phone in hand, laughing at something on the screen. Beside him sat Li Yichen, his cousin, equally absorbed, occasionally nudging Tianhao when something amusing appeared.
Noise.
Warmth.
Life.
Li Tianchen stood frozen at the foot of the stairs.
For a fleeting moment, his vision blurred.
Ten thousand years.
That was how long it had been since he had seen this scene.
Not as a memory.
But as reality.
His fingers curled slowly.
In his previous life, this harmony had shattered in blood and screams. In the Immortal World, he had replayed these moments endlessly, each recollection sharper than the last. No heavenly treasure, no ascension, no divine throne had ever erased that regret.
And now—
They were here.
Whole.
Laughing.
Unaware of fate's blade that once hovered over them.
Li Tianchen inhaled quietly.
His eyes grew warm despite his iron will.
"Brother?"
Li Tianhao noticed him first.
The phone slipped slightly in his grip as he stared.
Everyone else followed his gaze.
The kitchen fell silent.
Ji Ruyan turned around.
Zhao Meilin paused mid-motion.
Li Zhenyu lowered his newspaper.
Li Zhenfeng frowned slightly.
Their eyes fixed on Li Tianchen.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
He stood there calmly, dressed simply, posture relaxed yet composed. His presence was subtle—but unmistakably different. Gone was the faint slouch, the restless impatience, the indulgent laziness that had once clung to him.
Instead, he carried himself with quiet restraint.
Centered.
Like a mountain concealed beneath plain soil.
"Tianchen…" Ji Ruyan spoke first, her voice uncertain. "Did you… sleep at all last night?"
Zhao Meilin narrowed her eyes slightly, walking closer. "You look different."
Different was an understatement.
Li Tianhao stared openly now. "Brother, did you get plastic surgery overnight or something?"
Li Yichen nodded seriously. "You look… cooler."
Li Zhenyu rose slowly from his seat, studying his eldest son with a sharp gaze honed by decades of business.
Not suspicion.
Concern.
"Did something happen?" he asked.
Li Tianchen smiled.
It was gentle.
Unforced.
A smile he had not worn in either of his previous lives.
"I just realized I should take better care of myself," he said evenly. "That's all."
It was an excuse.
But a harmless one.
Ji Ruyan's worry faded almost instantly.
"That's good," she said warmly. "You're the eldest, after all. You should set an example."
Her tone carried no reproach.
Only affection.
Zhao Meilin laughed lightly. "As long as he's not sick."
Li Zhenyu studied him a moment longer, then nodded. "Good. Discipline is never a bad thing."
The matter ended there.
Because this was family.
Not interrogators.
They loved him not for what he was becoming—but for who he already was.
Breakfast passed in a haze of conversation.
Li Tianchen sat at the table, listening more than he spoke.
Ji Ruyan placed food into his bowl almost automatically, just as she always had.
"You're too thin," she said. "Eat more."
Li Tianchen obeyed without protest.
The taste of home filled his senses.
Li Zhenyu and Li Zhenfeng continued discussing business—new developments, future plans, cautious optimism. Li Tianhao complained about school. Li Yichen chimed in with jokes.
Ordinary.
Peaceful.
Li Tianchen committed every second to memory.
When breakfast ended, he stood.
"I'm going out for a walk," he said.
Ji Ruyan nodded. "Don't stay out too long."
"I won't."
This time, it was a promise.
The city unfolded before him as he stepped outside.
Traffic flowed.
People moved with purpose.
The world continued, blissfully ignorant of the undercurrents beneath its surface.
Li Tianchen walked without destination, letting the rhythm of the streets ground him. Eventually, his steps carried him toward the old market—a place largely forgotten by modern commerce.
Here, concrete gave way to narrow lanes.
Stalls crowded close together.
Voices overlapped.
The air changed.
Not rich with qi—but… different.
Li Tianchen slowed.
His gaze drifted across vendors selling antiques, trinkets, old books, jade of questionable origin—and then he felt it.
A faint pulse.
Weak.
But unmistakable.
Medicinal herbs.
He moved closer.
Most stalls sold dried plants barely worth a glance—ordinary ginseng, processed roots, artificially enhanced stock meant for tourists and traditional medicine amateurs.
Then he stopped.
An old man sat behind a small, unassuming stall.
His posture was slightly hunched, hair white, clothes plain. The assortment before him was modest—bundles of dried herbs arranged without care for aesthetics.
Yet among them—
Li Tianchen's pupils contracted.
Ginseng.
True ginseng.
Its roots were thick and gnarled, veins visible even beneath the dried skin. The surface carried a faint natural sheen, not from preservation oils, but from internal vitality.
Li Tianchen inhaled subtly.
The scent was faint.
But pure.
His heart skipped once.
This was not ordinary medicine.
This ginseng carried medicinal age.
At least…
One hundred years.
Perhaps more.
On Earth, where qi was thin and spiritual environments decayed, such an herb was nearly impossible.
Li Tianchen's gaze shifted to the old man.
Li Tianchen crouched slightly, picking up the ginseng carefully.
"Old sir," he said calmly, "how much for this?"
The old man opened his eyes.
They were sharp.
For a fleeting instant, something flickered within them.
Then it vanished.
"Depends," the old man replied. "On whether you know what you're holding."
Li Tianchen smiled faintly.
The world's qi was thin.
But it was not empty.
Hidden beneath modern civilization were remnants of an older world—fragments waiting for someone who knew how to look.
And Li Tianchen had just found his first foothold.
The path ahead was still long.
But for the first time since his rebirth, it had truly begun.