A Regressor’s Tale of Cultivation Chapter 798 Chapter 794: Primordial Chaos (4)

A biting chill settles in.

The boy lunges from the depths of the water the instant that sensation registers.

Cough, cough!

He spits out a mouthful of water, his gaze wandering with a hollow expression.

Huuuuuuup—

Instinctively, he begins the breathing technique practiced over a lifetime to thaw his freezing limbs and purge the icy liquid from his lungs.

Simultaneously, his mind sharpens. He categorizes his memories and evaluates his current environment.

Tuk— Tuk—

The boy strikes his head lightly, utilizing a subtle application of force to vibrate the remaining water from his ear canals. He stands up, finally recognizing the reality of his situation.

"...The past?"

The eye-crippled man, who had grown old and weary, once constructed an altar by weaving the stars together to perform a sacred, lengthy ritual.

He had prayed that if another life awaited him, he might find happiness, and then he drew his final breath.

That same man, having perished, had now regressed to a specific moment in his youth—the time he was nearly drowned.

Now inhabiting the body of a child, the eye-crippled makes a rapid assessment.

There is no time to indulge in nostalgia.

Huup—

He inhales deeply once more, using his rhythmic breathing to exert absolute mastery over his physical form.

He ignites the life force within his small frame, propelling himself forward at a velocity impossible for any ordinary seven-year-old.

Though such excessive exertion burns away a portion of his natural lifespan, the boy does not hesitate.

Action is the only priority.

Paatt!

Moving with transcendent speed, he arrives at the dilapidated thatched hut where he and his mother reside.

The boy bursts through the entrance and rushes to her side.

He immediately checks her pulse, determined to succeed where he had failed before his regression.

Tuk, tuk, tuk!

He strikes various acupoints across her body to stimulate her waning life force.

He possesses infinite knowledge on how to end a life.

In his previous existence, how many had fallen by his hand?

Understanding the human anatomy and the mechanics of vitality was second nature to him.

He had cut, dissected, and peered beneath the skin more times than he could count.

Before long, his mother’s eyes focus on him, and a small smile forms on her lips.

"Child... my baby..."

"Yes, Mother. I am right here."

The boy grips her hand firmly, his voice wavering with emotion.

Life returns to her eyes, filled with a sudden spark of affection and resolve.

"It is freezing outside. You must dress warmly."

"Yes, Mother. I will make sure to stay warm."

"Good, my child. You always... listen so well..."

Having spoken her piece, she gazes at him with motherly love one last time before falling silent.

Whoooooosh—

A frigid gust of wind sweeps in from the doorway.

The boy bows his head.

Despite his efforts to jumpstart her life force by opening her meridians, it was already too late.

Ultimately, the only thing his regression achieved was the chance to be present at her bedside to hear her final words.

The outcome remained unchanged.

The boy understood this truth deeply.

In his first life, even the transcendents who ruled the Cosmic Great Desolation trembled in his presence, offering up their vast wisdom in fear.

Even the lords of galaxies, where countless stars congregate, and the terrifying divine spirits capable of consuming those galaxies...

Even the divinities who manipulate the lifespans of mortals and spirits alike...

They had all knelt before him, terrified, answering every question he posed.

In that past life, he had the opportunity to transcend the cycle of life and death, becoming a deity within the pantheon alongside other immortal beings.

The messenger of the Chief God, the sovereign of the Cosmic Great Desolation, had even offered him the Seat of the God of War. He could have lived forever as an eternal entity.

Yet, he discarded it all. In a remote corner of the boundless Astral Realm, he built an altar of starlight and prayed incessantly until his death.

Even if he achieved immortality...

The agony he endured, the misfortune, and the crushing grief of that life...

He knew those debts could never be settled.

He wished to erase his own existence, becoming fuel for those who came after, and to be reborn as something entirely new.

"The first... principle of history..."

Time that has passed never returns.

The past is [absolutely] immutable.

Even for a being capable of reversing time...

History simply repeats itself within the new timeline.

This was the grim realization he had gained while hunting and slaughtering countless gods and transcendents during his first life.

"If this is how it must be... then why was I sent back at all...?"

A pained groan escaped him, directed at whatever unknown force had returned him to the past. He sobbed uncontrollably over his mother's remains.

Not even the God-Killer, who had slain numerous deities, could alter the established flow of history.

Not even when it came to extending the life of a single mortal woman.

On this, the first day of his return.

The boy who was once the eye-crippled realized to his core that the past cannot be undone.

Once his mother’s funeral was concluded, the boy began the slow process of reclaiming the Cultivation he had mastered in his previous life.

It was a power capable of reshaping the world through sheer willpower.

A forbidden art that used such strength to isolate himself from the universe, shielding him from the world's laws and allowing him to perform miracles.

Star Extinguishing True Chapter, Revised.

Darkness World.

The boy intentionally sealed his senses of hearing, taste, touch, and smell, along with the sixth sense shared by all living things.

He focused his mind entirely on the seventh sense—the consciousness of intent—allowing him to perceive the fundamental structure of existence.

The Law of Causality appeared before him like a vast web. The boy severed several strands of these causal laws and absorbed them.

Having consumed a portion of causality, he rewrote the worldly principles affecting his own body. He left the hut and began a slow trek down the road.

In his hand, he clutched his mother's memento: a mother-of-pearl hairpin.

He walked with deliberate steps toward a specific destination.

He was heading for the neighboring village located beyond the mountain.

His goal was the village market, where he intended to find a person from his first life.

"Hah, spare a copper... for a miserable soul... please, just one coin..."

Though his ears were sealed and silent, he could detect the vibrations of the Law of Causality through his seventh sense. The boy looked down at the face of the leg-crippled beggar before him.

'Was this truly what he looked like?'

He crouched down in front of the beggar and spoke.

"Hey, you."

"Aigo, Young Master. Please, find it in your heart to give a coin to this wretch."

The boy pondered.

'History’s flow does not shift. However...'

Though the boy had sacrificed other senses, unlike his previous life, he still possessed his sight.

He had also been present for his mother's final moments and heard her last words.

While he couldn't save her life...

'A little. If it is only a tiny change... could it be possible?'

Clinging to a sliver of hope, he thought back to the time before his regression.

He remembered his first life.

The time when the leg-crippled boy had kindly approached the blind boy, offering to be friends.

Back then, there was no subservient attitude like the one he displayed now.

"Let’s be friends. I’ll be your legs."

Recalling that old bond, the boy offered a proposition, hoping that perhaps a person's nature could be steered.

The leg-crippled beggar stared at him in confusion before stammering a question.

"Wh-Why? Why would someone like you want anything to do with a beggar...?"

"I am a beggar as well. I’ll carry you on my back, and we can beg together. What do you say?"

"B-But... you don't seem to have any injuries... Why would you want to wander... with a cripple... like me...?"

The boy thought of the leg-crippled man from his previous life.

That man had tried to sell his mother's hairpin to a merchant; when he was caught, the boy had torn him apart.

'Was that... because he was born evil? Or was it a result of his circumstances?'

"...I was blind once, too."

"Wh-What...?"

"But..."

The boy offered a small smile and continued,

"I prayed to the Lord of Heavens... I prayed until the Lord of Heavens finally restored my sight."

"Wh-What...?"

"So... I want us to be friends. Come with me, and we will pray to the Lord of Heavens together. Perhaps your legs can be healed as well."

Smiling gently, he hoisted the crippled boy onto his back.

Overwhelmed by the first act of true kindness he had ever known, the leg-crippled boy remained stunned for a moment before he began to sob quietly against the boy's shoulder.

"Kkeuk... kkeuk..."

The beggar was weeping.

His emotions had clearly reached a breaking point.

As the boy felt the steady heartbeat and the ripples of the other's soul...

He realized the leg-crippled boy was genuinely touched.

"Stay with me. Even if the Lord of Heavens ignores us, I will find a way to fix your legs."

The boy contemplated the reason for his regression.

Even now, the exact mechanics remained a mystery.

He had a few theories. First, perhaps the martial arts and killing techniques he had perfected—designed to end lives with ultimate efficiency—had reached a threshold that allowed him to bypass time itself.

Second, the altar he had built by connecting stars was based on a design he found in a hidden cave where he discovered the Star Extinguishing True Chapter. It was known as an 'altar for granting wishes.' Legend claimed that a wish made there would be fulfilled by God. Perhaps his final prayer had been answered in this manner.

Finally, at the moment of his death,

He had felt the presence of a transcendent entity touching his soul, awakening something deep within him.

He didn't know which of these factors caused his return.

But one thing was certain.

'The past cannot be undone. The grand flow of history is fixed. But... if it is something small...'

Like retaining his sight by sacrificing other senses.

Like being present when his mother passed away.

Or ensuring his first encounter with the leg-crippled friend was slightly different.

Fate might be unchangeable, but the nature of a relationship could be altered.

'If they are only minor details... can I change them?'

The mechanics were still unclear, but the boy's regression likely stemmed from his own desperate wish to escape his misery.

'In this life... can I find salvation?'

Could he find compensation for the wretchedness of his first existence?

The boy held onto that hope.

This leg-crippled friend was to be his first test.

He begged alongside him, but unlike the last life, he shared secrets and taught him specific breathing techniques.

He hunted a tiger on South Mountain to sell its pelt for gold, and he slew a man-eating flood dragon beneath a bridge, feeding its Inner Core to his friend.

Consequently, the leg-crippled friend grew wealthy and regained the ability to walk.

"Th-Thank you, Blackie... thank you...!"

A year passed.

In that time, the friend gave the boy the name 'Blackie.'

It was the same name he had been given in the first life.

Because the boy always wore black garments to mourn his mother, the friend had naturally called him 'Blackie.'

"It is nothing. We are friends."

Blackie embraced his friend and smiled.

One year had elapsed.

This was the same amount of time they had spent together in the previous life.

During this period, he had found a new kind of hope.

And today,

Exactly one year since their meeting, was the day that—in the first life—the leg-crippled friend had betrayed him by selling his mother's keepsake.

'The merchant who manipulated him... I have already dealt with him.'

He could sense no malice or avarice within the boy's heart.

He had healed his legs.

He had eliminated the one who would tempt him.

He had even removed the poverty that might drive a person to greed.

Furthermore, he had no physical disability—like blindness—that would cause others to look down on him as they had before.

The circumstances were entirely different; there was no reason for betrayal.

The waves of intent he felt from the boy confirmed that he harbored no evil thoughts.

'If it is just a small thing... I can change it.'

Of course, since this boy's natural lifespan was destined to end today, death might still be unavoidable.

But just as he had been there for his mother.

The manner in which his friend died could be different.

He could remember him as a true friend rather than a treacherous betrayer.

If Blackie could achieve even that much...

The part of him that suffered in the first life...

The bitterness and agony locked within his soul might finally find peace.

With that thought, the boy swore that if his friend remained loyal, he would even kill the god of lifespans to save him.

Then, the night arrived.

Puuuk—

Blink—

Blackie stared down at the blade buried in his chest.

"Y-You monster... what kind of eight-year-old doesn't even scream...!?"

Blackie scanned the room.

They were the local butchers.

He knew them well—men who frequently engaged in illicit acts and occasionally took contracts for murder.

Crack—

Blackie shattered the blade with his bare hands and yanked it out. He seized the butcher who had stabbed him with one hand and hurled him away.

Kwaang!

The man crashed through the ceiling, disappearing into the night as a shattered mess of gore.

Blackie’s gaze remained cold and clear.

"D-Don't move, you freak! If you take a step, I'll kill your only friend!"

"Heuheuk... B-Blackie..."

He looked toward his friend, who was being held at knifepoint by the remaining butchers.

In this life,

His friend had not betrayed him.

This time, his attackers were merely common thugs with no connection to him...

That realization alone brought him a sense of peace.

Crunch—

In a heartbeat.

In a single instant, every butcher in the room was dead.

The room where Blackie had been sleeping detonated outward, leveled by a sudden burst of air pressure and shockwaves.

The courtyard of the estate where they lived was revealed under the pale moonlight.

"Do not fear. You will not die today."

Under the moon's glow, a crowd of mercenaries, assassins, and outlaws—perhaps sent by some unknown party—stood with weapons drawn, watching Blackie with visible anxiety.

With an expression of absolute calm, Blackie addressed his friend, who was only slightly older than himself.

"Because you are my friend. Even if your time is meant to end today... I will slay the very power of the god who governs lifespans to keep you alive. So do not worry..."

Puuuk—

"...Fri...end..."

Blackie lo