Mo Zhiyuan's self-destructive, forbidden spell generated a humongous amount of demonic energy, enough to swallow the world and destroy everything Shen Ruizhe worked so hard to re-establish.

Those who were affected did not have the chance to even scream before they were obliterated by the force of Mo Zhiyuan's last wish.

At once, the three realms ceased to exist.

And then, by the hand of magic, a gigantic clock of solid gold was formed at the center of the darkness. This clock possessed no numbers, only a single pointer. As soon as it came to be, it emitted a faint beating sound along with the advance of the single pointer, following a second-by-second rhythm. The sound was amplified by the thick silence that pervaded the darkness like poison.

Out of nowhere, several purple strands of demonic power emerged and formed a huge purple, translucent hand that hovered in the air ominously before the clock. The hand stretched out a finger that stopped the clock from advancing further.

It then forcefully turned the pointer of the clock backward, defying the natural flow of time.

Helpless against the persistent finger, the pointer of the clock could only move backward.

A hundred and thirteen years of time reversed before the hand dissolved into the darkness, allowing time to resume its natural course.

The first ticking of the clock was followed by the regeneration of the three realms the way they were a hundred and thirteen years ago.

The second ticking of the clock was followed by the regeneration of all dead and living creatures that wandered the three realms a hundred and thirteen years ago.

The third ticking of the clock hurled Mo Zhiyuan back into the land of the living.

The seventeen-year-old youngster was lying on his old bed, his eyes closed and his hands clasped upon his body. From a bird's-eye perspective, he seemed like countless other respectable young cultivators, on the cusp of a radiant and limitless path.

A moment later, a wooden pail sailed across the air and hit the left side of his face with outstanding precision. Shock and pain mingled across his face as he toppled from the bed and crumpled to the floor with a groan.

"Which motherfucker did that?" he snapped angrily afterward. Eyes teary from the pain, he fumbled for some support as he held a hand against the bruised half of his face.

"Brother Mo, what the hell are you still doing down there???"

Mo Zhiyuan gasped when he was pulled to his feet by a pair of strong hands. They belonged to a tall, sturdy young man who looked like he was sculpted out of a mountain boulder. Even his upper arms were bigger than Mo Zhiyuan's thighs.

Blinking through tears, he adjusted his focus and stared into a face he had not seen for over a hundred years.

"You... You are..."

He recognized the young man, of course, but his name was lost amidst the many others that followed.

The sturdy young man furrowed his brows and stared at Mo Zhiyuan.

"Did you hit your head so hard during the fall that you no longer recognize your fellow disciples? Brother Mo, have you maybe gone dumb?"

"..."

Mo Zhiyuan struggled to suppress a string of profanities that he wanted to hurl at the other person's face.

What fall? If anything, his brain damage must be caused by that unholy wooden pail!

"Brother Zhou, why are you bullying Brother Mo?" another young man approached them in a hurry with a set of clean robes slung across his shoulder. "Is this even the time to bully anyone? Don't you guys know what day it is today?"

"What day is it today?" Mo Zhiyuan dumbly asked.

The other two young men stared at him as if he had gone completely insane.

"Today is the Induction Day!"

Oh.

Mo Zhiyuan's lips fell open in astonishment.

"Anyway, go get ready now! If you are late, you will join Wuchang Peak by default!"

The two other young men scurried away, leaving Mo Zhiyuan alone in the bedchamber they shared with five other male disciples.

Mo Zhiyuan cracked his neck from side to side before he slowly walked into the bathing area.

A swirling vortex of soap bubbles and water filled the interior, where roughly fifty naked young men were diligently scrubbing themselves raw, their movements a flurry of lather and splashing.

"..."

It was rather disgusting to be confronted with so many naked male bodies so early in the morning.

Mo Zhiyuan took off his clothes and sauntered toward an empty bathing station, flanked by two other naked disciples with just white towels draped around their waists. He sat on an empty stool and grabbed a white soap bar to clean his body. Looking into the immense water channel in front of him, he glimpsed his former self, a face younger and unburdened by the weight of life's struggles.

His handsome features were rooted in the symmetry of his face. Relaxed, shapely brows sat above his sharp, black phoenix eyes, hinting at a composed nature. His high-arched nose provided a strong central feature, balanced by the subtle line of his thin lips.

He had really returned to the time before he veered off to the dark path and waged a war with the entire cultivation world.

At this point, he was simply a regular disciple at Seven Sky Pillars Sect, on the verge of induction into one of the seven peaks to begin his cultivation journey.

And that person was still alive.

------------

Author's note :

Author : Disgusting, eh?

Mo Zhiyuan : So, so, disgusting. Ew. I hate male bodies.

A trail of white powder at Blood Moon Palace : .........