Young man

“Are you sure about this? Though it’s of no use to us anymore, we poured all our effort into creating it. It’s hardly a simple thing. If anything happens in this secret realm because of it, don’t expect me to take responsibility.”
The young man nodded slightly, remaining silent.
Seeing this, the burly figure took a crimson book from within his robes and tossed it to his companion, utterly unconcerned.
The young man caught it, then, with a flourish, flung the book skyward. A bolt of lightning crashed down, striking it.
Strangely, the book was not destroyed. Instead, it split into four streams of crimson light. Three streaks shot off wildly, while one settled firmly back into the young man’s hand.
“So flashy... so pretentious,” the burly man muttered under his breath.
“Come on, let’s move to the next station.” The young man tossed the incomplete scroll onto the ruins, glanced at him, and spoke softly.
Yu Daoyi watched as the two approached, then passed through him, heading into the distance.
Suddenly, the young man halted, turned, and looked behind him—at Yu Daoyi himself.
Behind him was Yu Daoyi.
The burly companion continued onward, seemingly oblivious that the young man had stopped.
At first, Yu Daoyi thought it was a trick of the mind, until the young man simply stared at him, those weathered eyes fixed upon him, as if he saw something amusing.
Wait—wasn’t this supposed to be his own dream?
Yu Daoyi always thought he was witnessing this scene due to some transformation, though he didn’t know the reason, he assumed it was a dream. But what was happening now utterly defied his understanding.
Then everything accelerated. The surroundings decayed with time, day and night flashed by, seasons changed in an instant. Only the thunder-ridden, gloomy sky remained unchanged, as if he and the young man stood atop the rushing river of time.
Until time gradually returned to normal.
A roguish young man arrived, picked up the now even more tattered scroll, a sly grin on his face.
Once again, everything grew vague and indistinct. A grey mist surged up from nowhere.
Yu Daoyi and the young man continued to regard each other, as if time had lost all meaning here.
“Nine Transformations of the Ancient Demon. Practice it well,” the young man smiled faintly, then turned and walked into the mist, slowly vanishing.
Yu Daoyi, in this void, felt utterly terrified.
“He... he can see me,” he whispered.
Heavens, this world is frightful. I think I...
Never mind, there’s no one here I could throw myself into the arms of. He imagined what would happen if he flung himself at his parents.
...The scene was too beautiful to bear, so Yu Daoyi quickly aborted the fantasy. As for that annoying little brother, forget it. Such unrealistic dreams are best avoided.
Suddenly, a wave of drowsiness swept over him. When Yu Daoyi opened his eyes again—

A blinding ray of sunlight poured through the window, filling the room. Yu Daoyi blinked, slowly adjusting to his surroundings.
The room was empty except for himself. It was quaint and antique, but clearly not his own bedroom.
He stared, then abruptly threw off his quilt. Whew, thank goodness, his clothes were still on—what he’d feared hadn’t happened.
Wait... is my focus off again?
Was I wearing these clothes before? Did something happen after all? I’m still just a child!
Forget it, his mind was running wild again.
Yu Daoyi sat quietly on the bed, recalling the events of his dream. A lingering fear gnawed at him—this world truly was too terrifying. He hadn’t done anything, yet this happened!
No golden key for the protagonist, no cheat codes, yet the main story must be run?
And that old man—what was he hiding? Did he deliberately make Yu Daoyi practice this body-forging technique?
The roguish young man in the dream was clearly his unreliable father in younger days. Recalling those apocalyptic scenes, there was no way a minor cultivator from Green Mountain Town could get involved in such matters.
His head hurt from thinking about it, but at least he now knew the name of the technique: though incomplete, seemingly only a quarter of the whole, its value was undeniable. The old man hadn’t lied about its quality.
A cultivation method practiced by someone nearly immortal—how could it be mediocre? As for the bull-like burly man, whether he ever achieved immortality was unknown. Perhaps he could check the records of those who ascended.
And that young man, and that bizarre place... forget it, his old man surely knew something. He’d ask when the time came.
Yu Daoyi collected his thoughts. Just then, the door creaked open.
Sunlight flooded the room as a graceful figure entered, backlit as if a celestial maiden descending from heaven.
“Awake?” His mother looked at her eldest son sitting on the bed, a hint of surprise in her expression, joy lighting her eyes. The stone in her heart finally dropped, but in a moment she resumed her usual calm, as if nothing had happened.
Yu Daoyi watched his mother enter, thinking how she truly loved him. He was moved, and a wave of sorrow washed over him.
“Mother, you must stand up for your obedient, lovable son!”
His eyes filled with tears, his voice mournful, pouring out his grief.
“Your adorable eldest son always trusted that man, always obeyed, respected him so much. But, but mother, look at what that man has done to your lovable son!”
That man, of course, was his father.
“He made your son faint! I thought... thought I’d never see you again. I can’t live without you, Mother!” Yu Daoyi wailed.
Truly, it was enough to move anyone to tears.
His mother should have been delighted, or at least fussed over him, but for some reason, she simply couldn’t muster the sentiment.
With a helpless look, she gazed at her son, sighed deeply, and instantly lost all traces of concern or worry. If he had the energy to say such things, he must be fine.

Well, except for that part of his brain. That’s always been questionable—whether it’s there or not is debatable.
“Ahem,” Yu Daoyi heard his mother cough twice, clear and melodious as a songbird, thinking she’d finally stand up for him.
She merely pointed behind him, then quietly left the room.
????
“Wait, Mother, don’t go! Are you just going to watch your son suffer?”
“At least stay and watch. Let your son take matters into his own hands, so I can vent my anger!”
He clearly didn’t understand his mother’s intentions, shouting from the bed.
Then he saw his father enter, face dark as thunder, expressionless and frighteningly stern.
…
Why does this always happen to me…
After a long silence—
“Uh… Father, is there any chance I can be rescued?”
He sat up straight, tilting his head with innocent obedience, not daring to move.
“No, I’m just that man. Those words ‘father’ I can’t accept.”
Gulp. Yu Daoyi swallowed nervously, sweat beading on his forehead as memories of his father’s tyranny surfaced.
It was over. This was doomed.
“Father, I’m just a child recovering from illness. Please go easy on me.”
“Fine.”
Outside the door, his mother stood bathed in sunlight, the scenery radiant, picturesque as a poem. Slowly, she smiled—at last, everything was all right.
“Aaaah!”
A shriek from Yu Daoyi.
His mother nodded in satisfaction, seeing his spirit was still strong.