A hazy consciousness struggled endlessly in the dark.
Yang Chang’an only felt his entire body tightly restrained, unable to move even a single finger.
Subconsciously, he tried to wave his hand, but all he felt was a soft, yielding sensation, while the invisible shackles binding him refused to loosen in the slightest.
Panic rose in his chest, and he instinctively opened his mouth to call for help, yet what came out of his throat was not the familiar voice of a grown man, but bursts of soft infant cries.
The sound was unbearably tender and immature, exactly like the cries of a newborn baby.
“Did I… transmigrate?” The thought slammed heavily into Yang Chang’an’s muddled consciousness.
He had never imagined that after being reborn, he would end up in such a situation.
Before he could even process this earth-shattering change, a thunderous roar suddenly exploded beside his ears.
“Don’t get tied down in the fight!
Charge!
Break out of here!” The voice carried a desperate resolve, as though willing to stake everything on one final gamble.
The force of it made Yang Chang’an’s ears ache, and even his tiny body trembled from the shock.
Immediately after, another frantic shout rang out.
“Second Master, there are too many of them!
We can’t break through!” The sounds of battle cries, clashing weapons, and miserable screams instantly swallowed Yang Chang’an whole.
Though his mind had yet to fully awaken, he could clearly feel the panic and despair surrounding him, along with the dense stench of blood that flooded into his nose and mouth without restraint, churning his stomach violently.
Suddenly, something warm splashed onto his face.
The sticky sensation made him instinctively force his eyes open, but within his blurred vision there was only endless crimson.
Blood-red covered everything before him, staining the world so completely that he could not make out what was happening at all.
“Blood… it’s blood…” Yang Chang’an’s heart shook violently as the shadow of death instantly enveloped him.
At that moment, he wanted to scream, wanted to run, but all that escaped his throat were weak, broken infant cries, helpless and pitiful.
Only then did he fully realize that he was nothing more than a newborn baby.
On this battlefield of flashing blades and flying steel, he did not even possess the ability to protect himself.
Just as terror seized him and turned his entire body rigid, a rough hand gently rubbed his head.
That palm was thick with calluses and carried a faint smell of blood, yet unexpectedly, it gave him the slightest trace of safety.
But in the very next second, the world spun around him as someone pulled him tightly into their arms.
The sharp ringing of colliding metal nearly pierced through his eardrums, making his tiny body tremble uncontrollably until even his crying became intermittent.
It felt as though the footsteps of death were right behind him, each step landing directly upon his heartbeat.
Yang Chang’an did not even dare make a sound anymore.
He could only subconsciously clench his toothless gums and pray madly in his heart, praying that he would not be hacked apart by random blades, praying that he would not end up separated from his head the moment he transmigrated into this world.
He could feel that the person carrying him was running extremely fast, their breathing growing heavier and heavier.
Warm liquid stained much of their body, likely blood from numerous wounds.
The sounds of fighting around them shifted between near and far, and from time to time, the sharp whistle of weapons slicing past nearby made his heart leap straight into his throat.
Right then, a cold shout suddenly rang out beside him.
It carried the vibration of Spirit Power, so powerful that even the air itself seemed to distort.
“Fifth Spirit Ability, Break!” The shout surged with unstoppable momentum.
In the next instant, a deafening explosion erupted, followed immediately by several shrill screams.
Even the chaotic sounds of battle seemed to weaken for a moment.
If Yang Chang’an had been fully conscious at this moment, then merely hearing the call of that Spirit Ability would have been enough for him to realize exactly what kind of world he was in.
But now, fear and confusion completely engulfed him, his mind blank as the terror of death sent wave after wave of coldness through his body.
After some time, the sounds of battle still continued, but heavy panting could now be heard, one breath after another.
Cradled in those arms, Yang Chang’an could clearly feel the violent rise and fall of the other person’s chest, even their arms trembling faintly from exhaustion.
Then, a hoarse voice slowly sounded out, carrying a trace of mockery.
“As expected of the Second Master of the Breaking Clan.
Your strength truly is extraordinary.” “With merely the cultivation of a Spirit Saint, you actually managed to hold out against a Spirit Douluo for this long.
You truly have impressed me.” Breaking Clan?
Those two words struck into Yang Chang’an’s muddled consciousness like a bolt of thunder, causing him to freeze for a moment.
The name sounded incredibly familiar, as though he had heard it somewhere before, yet his thoughts were in complete disarray, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not remember where.
Immediately afterward, the person holding him finally spoke, his voice hoarse and still carrying traces of savagery and despair that had yet to fade.
“Leaving only ghostly shadows behind without ever revealing your Spirit Rings… it’s you?!” The despair within that voice caused Yang Chang’an’s heart to sink along with it.
He could clearly feel the body of the man holding him tense instantly, even the arms wrapped around him tightening further.
“It is me.” The hoarse voice sounded once more.
“Yang Wushuang, take a good look around you.” Yang Wushuang?
Yang Chang’an’s consciousness struggled desperately, trying to piece together the connection between those names from the fragments of memory buried within his mind, but the atmosphere around him was far too oppressive for him to concentrate at all.
The man called Yang Wushuang was currently lifting his eyes to look around.
Entering his ears were the weak, sorrowful wails of his clansmen.
“Clan extermination, or surrender?” The hoarse voice sounded light and casual, yet it was like a sharp blade pressed against Yang Wushuang’s throat, and against the hearts of every surviving member of the Breaking Clan.
A brief silence followed, one so heavy that even the air itself seemed frozen solid.
Yang Chang’an could feel Yang Wushuang’s body trembling, and then he heard the distinct sound of a fist tightening, the long spear in his grasp creaking under the force.
“Second Master, don’t!” “Our Breaking Clan has no cowards!
At worst, we die!” “That’s right!
Death is only death!
We would rather die than surrender!” The owner of the hoarse voice did not seem surprised by their choice at all.
He merely said calmly: “Time waits for no one, Yang Wushuang.
You only have one chance.” The oppressive pressure descended once more.
Yang Chang’an could even sense that the other party had completely locked onto Yang Wushuang.
If he dared say no, then what awaited him in the next instant would be utter destruction.
After another moment, Yang Chang’an suddenly felt himself being lifted up.
A pair of rough hands gently brushed across his cheeks, wiping away the bloodstains on his face.
The movements were so gentle that it felt unbelievable, completely unlike the blood-soaked warrior from moments ago.
On one side were his clansmen, the century-old glory of the Breaking Clan, and the pride engraved deep within their bones.
On the other side was the final remaining bloodline in this world, a newborn infant already trapped in a hopeless situation from the moment of birth, the last remaining hope they had left.
Yang Chang’an could feel Yang Wushuang’s struggle.
He wanted to shout, wanted to tell Yang Wushuang that he wanted to live, because as long as they stayed alive, there would still be hope.
Yet all he could produce were the cries of a baby, and upon this deathly silent battlefield, those cries sounded especially abrupt.
Finally, a sudden roar shattered the silence.
“Everyone, stop!” The shout stunned everyone around them for a moment.
In an instant, the entire battlefield fell completely silent as countless gazes focused upon Yang Wushuang.
“Second Master, don’t!” “Second Master, our deaths don’t matter, but we cannot disgrace the Breaking Clan!” One desperate cry after another rang out, filled with grief.
They had already guessed what their Second Master intended to do, yet Yang Wushuang acted as though he heard none of them.
In the next moment, the clear sound of a weapon falling to the ground rang out sharply across the silent battlefield.
“Yang Wushuang… surrenders.” Five simple words left Yang Wushuang’s mouth, carrying an almost imperceptible choke in his voice.
For the sake of his clansmen, he had cast aside his pride and abandoned the glory of the Breaking Clan.
“A wise man submits to circumstances.” The hoarse voice finally carried a trace of approval.
“Yang Wushuang, very good.” Immediately afterward, he waved a hand toward the people behind him.
“Stand down.” At the command, the opposing side gradually lowered their weapons, and that suffocating killing intent finally dissipated.
Hearing those words, the heart that had been stretched to its absolute limit within Yang Chang’an finally relaxed.
They had survived.
He had finally survived.
And his clansmen in this world had survived as well.
The moment that taut string in his heart loosened, exhaustion instantly flooded his consciousness.
Nestled within Yang Wushuang’s embrace and listening to the steady beating of his heart, Yang Chang’an’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier until, unable to resist the drowsiness any longer, he finally fell into a deep sleep.
In the final second before darkness swallowed him completely, those two names continued echoing repeatedly within his mind.
Breaking Clan.
Yang Wushuang.
He had definitely heard those names somewhere before.
They were far too familiar.
But at this moment, he was simply too exhausted to think any deeper about it.
He could only allow his consciousness to sink into slumber, allowing the gears of fate to slowly begin turning within this world.
Meanwhile, Yang Wushuang, holding the sleeping child in his arms, looked at the surviving clansmen around him, his eyes filled with sorrow.