At the centre of his room back in the Irricester Dormhouse, Rihan is cross-legged on a cushion in front of two small tables. A large book was open before him and beside it, several piles of paper were covered with his writing.

His face looks tired but determined as he works through one problem after another. It's obvious that he wants to get this over quickly and move on to something else.

"The core of the human being is the heart. It is the centre of the mind, emotions and soul. When a child is born, its core has yet to develop. However, as it grows, the core will begin to take shape. It begins with a tiny seed and gradually develops until it reaches maturity." Rihan pauses for a moment while he thinks about what he said.

"In order to cultivate our cores, we need to be aware of them so they can grow into their fullest potential," he continues.

He closes his eyes and breathes slowly. His attention is solely on his Core. Then he opens his eye again and stares at the book in front of him.

He picks up a pen from the table next to him and writes some numbers down on an empty page.

After jotting down more figures, he starts adding them together. Finally satisfied, he puts down the pen and returns to meditating.

"The Core, Soul, and Arch Cultivators are the only known method of cultivation in this world, we start from bronze and cultivate to higher ranks such as silver, and gold. The higher we go, the harder it is to cultivate. But as of right now, I haven't even activated my Core yet!"

Rihan sighs deeply then says out loud, "I am not getting anywhere…"

After his supposed "rebirth" by merging his future and present soul, Rihan had been haphazardly trying to consolidate the memories and knowledge which flooded his mind when he first regained consciousness.

In doing so, however, he found himself unable to concentrate because of all the new memories from the future that kept swirling around inside his head.

For example, how he avoided Miss Shurong's slap and how he had addressed Xiao Yi Ling without having previously known her. How could he have possibly done those things?

But there wasn't any point dwelling on these questions now since everything would become clear once he fully integrated the future's knowledge and skills back into his own past self.

But right now, at the most basic level, he needed to learn how to control the flow within his body. Otherwise, if he tried to integrate too much information too soon, his brain might explode like a firework!

"You know, I really should've expected this," he mutters under his breath.

His previous life had taught him many different ways to channel energy and focus thoughts—but none of them worked anymore. All the techniques he'd learned in the past seemed useless against the flood of new memories.

"Maybe I'll just wait till my powers come back?" he suggests hopefully.

Just as he finishes saying this aloud, he feels a sharp pain shoot across his forehead. He winces and touches his brow gently, feeling blood trickling onto his hand.

"Ow!" he cries out loudly.

He tries to stand up but finds he cannot lift himself off the floor. His legs are trembling violently. Suddenly, he notices that his vision is fading away. Everything seems to be turning black…

"What happened…?"

He shakes his head hard, trying to wake up, but nothing changes. Soon he loses even the ability to hear anything other than his pounding heartbeat.

Suddenly, he hears someone calling his name.

"Rihan!"

It sounds distant and muffled. As though coming from far, far away. Yet he still manages to recognize the voice. It belongs to the person who saved him from drowning during the storm.

She calls his name again. And again. Her voice becomes louder each time she repeats herself.

"Rihan!"

He forces his eyelids apart slightly. There, standing before him is a beautiful girl wearing white robes. Long hair flows down her shoulders, reaching almost to her feet.

Her pale blue eyes stare intensely into his. They're filled with concern and worry.

"Rihan, please don't go unconscious again. You must stay awake."

She places a palm on his forehead. The warmth spreads throughout his whole body instantly. Within seconds, the dizziness subsides completely.

"Thank you," he murmurs quietly.

"Don't mention it."

As she speaks, Rihan finally realizes where he is. He smiles weakly.

"Where exactly is this place anyway?" he asks.

The girl frowns briefly. "This isn't the real world, remember?"

"Oh yeah."

He nods thoughtfully. Real or fake, either way, it doesn't matter. This place exists only in his memory. What matters is whether or not it helps him regain control of his mind.

"So tell me, what year is it here?"

She hesitates for a second before answering, "It's been centuries after your death."

"Centuries?" Rihan sits upright immediately, surprised. "That means—"

He stops talking abruptly when he sees the look of shock on the girl's face.

"How did you find out?" he whispers hoarsely.

Silence descends upon them both for a long moment.

Then the girl replies softly, "I'm sorry, Rihan." She lowers her gaze and steps aside.

Rihan stands up unsteadily. He moves towards her but suddenly trips over something lying on the ground behind him.

He looks down and spots a book with a torn cover lying beneath his foot.

***

On a High Mountain Peak in the Desolate Land.

A man stands alone atop a high mountain peak. Below him lies a vast expanse of lush green forest stretching as far as the eye can see.

From somewhere deep inside the trees, a river rushes towards the sea, its waterfall crashing down from above.

"I never imagined this day would ever arrive," he says to no one in particular.

He turns to face north. Behind him, a giant stone pillar stretches upwards into the sky. Its base is carved with ancient words written in an unfamiliar language.

On top of the pillar rests a sword, its blade glistening brightly. At the very tip, three characters glow red:

"The Sword of Time."

The man gazes at the weapon with great respect. He has always admired swords and blades, especially the legendary weapons wielded by heroes from ages ago.

Although he has never seen a genuine historical artifact before today, he knows with certainty that this sword belonged to an actual hero of old.

He walks closer to examine the inscription more closely. The letters seem to shift and move as he reads them.

Their meanings change depending on the angle of the light shining on them. Sometimes they appear as part of a word; sometimes as a single character.

"This is incredible," he breathes.

The sword has been left here for centuries. It has endured countless battles, wars, and natural disasters. Yet it remains undamaged despite being exposed to so much violence.

Even the eternal rain and wind have not caused it any harm.

"Whoever forged this blade possessed tremendous skill," muses the man. "And yet, there's something odd about this."

He squints at the runic markings and traces his finger along the surface of the blade.

His eye squints as he finds a slight indentation at a certain point. It's as though the metal has melted and then solidified over and over again.

"There's a reason why this sword was placed on this pillar for eternity. But what could it be? Perhaps I'll discover the answer when I read the rest of the text engraved on this column."

He leans forward and runs his fingers over the strange script. A warm breeze blows through his hair, making his robe flutter.