Protoganist's Sidekick Fights Back

The Himalayan wind clawed at Arya's face—sharp and relentless—carrying the icy tang of ancient glaciers and the faint, distant scent of pine.

Each gust bit into his skin, leaving behind a stinging chill that seeped through his layers of clothing.

He trailed behind the main group, his breaths steady and deliberate, each exhale blooming into mist against the frigid air.

Towering peaks surrounded him on all sides, rising like jagged sentinels that pierced the endless blue sky.

Their snow-clad forms stood unmoving, timeless and indifferent to the fleeting lives beneath them.

"So this is what they meant by breathtaking."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, the sight stirring something fragile within him. He had never seen so much snow in his entire life.

The journey was supposed to be different—a shared adventure with his closest friends.

They had spent countless nights planning this trip. Yet, when the time finally came, life had pulled them away—jobs, obligations, and distant priorities—leaving Arya to face the mountains alone.

At twenty-six, his friends were building careers, climbing corporate ladders, and securing the future their families expected of them.

Meanwhile, he drifted through life like a leaf caught in a stagnant stream—unemployed, directionless, and quietly suffocating under the weight of his own failures.

Even here, surrounded by nature's grandeur, the burden of his stagnant life refused to let go.

The beauty of the Himalayas pressed down on him rather than lifting him, a silent reminder of how small and insignificant he truly was.

The cheerful chatter of a couple nearby pulled him from his thoughts.

They were seasoned climbers from New Zealand, embarking on their second Himalayan expedition.

Their laughter rang clear through the crisp air, a bright contrast to the gloom weighing down his heart.

"Perhaps there is more to life than chasing a stable job and meeting expectations," he thought.

But the idea barely surfaced before the old doubts smothered it once again.

His gaze drifted absently across the snow, catching on a glint of gold buried beneath the white expanse.

A small, unadorned object peeked out—no larger than two inches, its dull metallic surface reflecting the pale sunlight.

"What's that...?"

Curiosity sparked, cutting through the fog in his mind. He veered off the path, boots crunching against fresh snow.

The thought was foolish, but a small thrill fluttered in his chest.

"Could it be gold?"

He bent down, fingers brushing the cold surface.

The instant his fingers made contact, pain lanced through him—sharp and searing, like a bolt of lightning coursing through his veins.

Golden light exploded across his vision, blinding and absolute. His body convulsed, limbs locking in place as though an unseen force had seized control.

His scream remained trapped within his throat, swallowed by the suffocating silence.

He forced his gaze downward, struggling to understand what was happening. A thin cut marred his palm, blood welling up in a crimson line.

The object had no sharp edges, yet it had sliced through his gloves and flesh as if they were nothing more than paper.

A low, resonant hum filled the air—soft at first but growing louder with each passing second.

The sound seemed to burrow beneath his skin, vibrating through bone and marrow. Panic surged within him.

The golden surface pulsed, casting flickering patterns of light across the snow. Strange symbols shimmered along his arm—runes etching themselves into his skin like molten brands.

His breath caught as he felt something being drained from within him. His consciousness was replaced by a hollow emptiness.

His mind grew sluggish, thoughts slipping away faster than he could grasp them.

"No... no, this can't be happening."

Tears welled up, blurring the distorted world around him. His heart ached with sudden, painful clarity.

He remembered his mother, his father, and the family he had always taken for granted.

He longed to tell them he loved them, to apologize for the countless times he had disappointed them.

"Please... God... I'm begging you."

The prayer remained unheard.

The golden light flared brighter, the hum rising into a deafening roar that seemed to echo from the very depths of the mountains themselves.

"Sorry... mothe..."

Arya's silent cries stopped, swallowed by the void.

A single tear traced down his cheek, freezing mid-path beneath the merciless cold.

The light surged one final time—brilliant and absolute—before vanishing without warning. The world returned to stillness, the mountains standing as indifferent witnesses to the tragedy.

Arya lay motionless in the snow, his vacant eyes reflecting the endless white expanse.

The journey that had once burned with dreams of reaching the light and the peaks of the world had ended here, in this cold and desolate place.

He died without warning, without reason—a life cut short before it could truly begin. He had lived as a disappointment.

And now....he died as one.

---

Jiang State. Qingyun Region. Qingyun Sect

Su Family Manor

A gasp, sharp and desperate, shattered the stillness of the opulent chamber. Su Kang's eyes flew open, his body drenched in cold sweat.

His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that echoed in the silence.

He clutched his head, a searing pain splitting his skull.

"What was that?" he thought, his mind reeling. A dream? No—it felt too real.

Fragmented memories surged through him—images of his family's destruction. He saw them broken, their screams piercing the air as their tormentors laughed.

He saw himself, helpless, forced to watch as his family was tortured and humiliated.

Then, as suddenly as it had come, the torrent receded, leaving him trembling and adrift in the unfamiliar landscape of his own mind.

Who am I? The question echoed, a desperate plea for understanding.

Am I Arya? The name felt foreign on his tongue, yet it resonated with a deep, aching familiarity.

But then who is Su Kang?

He looked around the room, his gaze sweeping over the familiar furnishings—the wooden furniture, the silk tapestries depicting scenes of mythical beasts, the faint scent of incense lingering in the air.

This was his room in the Su family branch in Qingyun City. He hadn't seen this place since leaving Jiang State.

Confusion clouded his thoughts.

He rose and walked toward a large bronze mirror. He stared at his reflection—a young man with a warm, wheatish complexion, high cheekbones, a straight nose, and piercing black eyes. Silver earrings shone in the soft light.

This is my body, he thought, his voice a near whisper. But the soul within felt like a fractured mosaic, a patchwork of two lives, two worlds.

He closed his eyes, trying to untangle the knot of memories. He remembered Arya's life—the crushing weight of expectations, the final, desperate journey to the Himalayas.

He remembered the cold white snow, the glint of gold, the searing pain, and the darkness. It was all so vivid, as if he had lived through it himself.

But he also remembered Su Kang's life—his childhood in the Su Manor, his rigorous training in cultivation, his close bond with his younger brother, and his family.

He also had memories of a future where his family was tortured and destroyed. Tears welled in his eyes, spilling over as the memories overwhelmed him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion.

A few minutes later, he arrived at two conclusions about his situation.

Either his soul had crossed into this body... But that didn't explain the memories of a future that hadn't yet come to pass.

He thought about Su Kang's death and the golden metallic object in his possession. Su Kang would come across this object in the future, but he hadn't known what it was.

He had kept it as a clue to some ancient treasure, as even the treasure pavilions couldn't decipher its purpose. It had remained inert until his final breath, when it suddenly glowed.

The second conclusion was that he had reincarnated in this world, died with his family, and somehow returned to a point two years before his death—all because of that mysterious object.

Only that object could provide answers to his confusion—whether it was reincarnation or not.

He decided to let it go for now. His emotions toward the Su family were deep. His first priority would be to try to change their tragic ending.

The young man turned back to the room, observing his surroundings.

After leaving the Su family, his life had been fraught with danger and conflict.

He had helped his friends, but over time, he began to notice the growing gap between them.

What disappointed him most was his own naivety and the cruel hand of fate.

As he processed the weight of his memories and the future he now knew, the young man decided to calm his thoughts.