After a thousand years of cultivation, he returns at the pinnacle!

The ashes of the capital were still being replayed on the news, but Jiang Chen had already returned to Jiangzhou.

Jiang Chen found a secluded corner, tore open a space, took a step, and was already standing by the flower bed in his own residential community.

The morning sun had just climbed over the rooftop, casting a long shadow of the crooked locust tree in the flowerbed. An old woman was walking her dog beside the flowerbed. Seeing Jiang Chen appear out of nowhere, she rubbed her eyes, muttered, "My presbyopia is getting worse again," and slowly walked away with her Teddy.

Jiang Chen looked down at his school uniform.

In the battle in the capital, he didn't get a drop of blood on him; his school uniform was as clean as if it had just been taken out of the closet. But upon closer inspection, there was a small patch of darkened color at the hem, as if it had been rubbed by the corrosive scent of black ice flowers, like a burn mark from a cigarette butt.

His mother will definitely find out.

Jiang Chen sighed and walked towards the building.

The stairwell still smelled familiar—the stewed pork ribs from Grandma Wang's house on the first floor, the cooking fumes from Uncle Zhang's house on the third floor, and the sandalwood from Aunt Li's house on the fifth floor, all mixed together to create a unique aroma that belongs to this old residential building.

Jiang Chen climbed four floors and stopped in front of his own house.

The door was an old-fashioned security door, with peeling paint and a doorknob worn shiny. A faded "福" (good fortune) character was pasted on the door; his mother had bought it from the market last Chinese New Year for one yuan, and it had been there for over half a year without being removed.

He raised his hand, hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then knocked on the door.

There's no need to hesitate.

But he still hesitated.

Because he didn't know how to explain it.

"Mom, your son just killed hundreds of thousands of apostles in the capital"—upon hearing this, his mother's first reaction wouldn't be pride or shock, but rather, "Have you eaten? Are you hurt?"

This is what a mother is.

Jiang Chen knocked twice more.

Hurried footsteps came from inside the door, and then the door was suddenly pulled open.

Jiang Xueqin stood at the door, wearing an apron and holding a spatula. Her eyes were red, clearly from crying. The moment she saw Jiang Chen, she froze for a moment, then the spatula clattered to the ground. She grabbed Jiang Chen's arm and patted him from head to toe.

"Are you hurt? Does anything hurt? Have you eaten?"

Jiang Chen's lips twitched slightly.

See? He knew it.

"Mom, I'm fine." He let his mother touch him all over without flinching. "I'm not hurt at all."

Jiang Xueqin didn't believe him and insisted on rolling up his sleeves to check. His arms were clean, without even a scratch. She then checked his collar and the back of his neck, confirming several times before finally letting out a sigh of relief.

Then she slapped Jiang Chen on the back of the head.

"You silly child! Why did you run off to such a far place! Do you know how worried I was! Do you know how scary those things on TV are! Your dad didn't sleep all night, just paced back and forth in the living room!"

Jiang Chen didn't dodge and took the hit.

"Mom, I'm perfectly fine."

"All right? All right?" Jiang Xueqin's voice rose eight octaves. "You traveled all the way from Jiangzhou to the capital, thousands of miles away, and you're telling me you're all right?! How did you get there? Did you fly?!"

Jiang Chen remained silent for a second.

"More or less."

Jiang Xueqin: "...?"

She stared at Jiang Chen for three seconds, seemingly trying to judge from his expression whether he was joking. Jiang Chen's expression was very serious, so serious that it made her heart skip a beat.

She recalled the scenes she saw on television last night.

The boy in the school uniform floated in the sky above the capital, with an overwhelming sea of ​​swords behind him and a dark tide of apostles in front of him.

The boy's face was magnified countless times by the live broadcast camera, appearing clearly on the screens of viewers across the country.

It's her son.

It's Jiang Chen.

Jiang Xueqin's tears welled up instantly. She turned around, wiped her eyes with her apron, and said in a choked voice, "Come in, there's still some porridge in the pot."

Jiang Chen followed his mother into the house.

In the living room, Jiang Tianyi sat on the sofa, remote control in hand. The TV was on, the volume turned down low, showing a news recap of the Capital Apostle Incident. On the screen, a drone-captured aerial view showed a boy in a school uniform floating amidst a sea of ​​swords.

Jiang Tianyi looked at the TV with a complicated expression, then at his son who walked in. His lips moved, but in the end he only said two words: "You're back."

"Mm." Jiang Chen sat down opposite his father.

The three of them were silent for a few seconds.

Jiang Xueqin went to the kitchen to get some porridge, her hands still trembling as she brought it out. A little porridge spilled on the table, and she quickly grabbed a rag to wipe it up, wiping it twice before stopping.

"Dad, Mom," Jiang Chen said.

Jiang Tian looked up, and Jiang Xueqin stopped wiping the table.

"That's me on TV."

The living room was so quiet that you could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Jiang Tianyi stared at his son for a long time, then picked up the cigarette pack from the coffee table, took out a cigarette, lit it, and took a drag. His voice was slightly hoarse through the swirling smoke: "I know."

"When did this happen?" Jiang Xueqin asked. Her voice was very soft, as if she were asking something very ordinary, like "What do you want to eat today?"

Jiang Chen thought for a moment.

"The night after Awakening Day."

"The day you stayed in the toilet for a long time?" Jiang Xueqin had a good memory.

"right."

"What happened?"

Jiang Chen remained silent for a moment. He didn't want to lie to his parents, but he also couldn't say that he had "transmigrated to the cultivation world and lived for a thousand years"—not that he couldn't say it, but that they wouldn't understand anyway.

"I had a very long dream," he finally said. "In the dream, I went to a very far place and learned some things. When I woke up, those things were still there."

Jiang Tianyi and Jiang Xueqin exchanged a glance.

They didn't ask any further questions.

It wasn't that they weren't curious, but that they dared not ask. They were afraid that if they asked too many questions, their son would think they were afraid of him. They weren't afraid. He was their son, and no matter what he became, he was still their son.

But it would be a lie to say I'm not afraid.

It's not that I'm afraid of Jiang Chen, it's that I'm afraid of losing him.

"That dream," Jiang Xueqin carefully chose her words, "was it very dangerous?"

Jiang Chen looked into his mother's eyes. There was worry, heartache, and something else he couldn't quite understand.

"It's dangerous," he said honestly, "but I'm very strong now, so strong that nothing can hurt me."

Jiang Xueqin was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.

"That's good."

She picked up the bowl of porridge and placed it in front of Jiang Chen.

"Have some porridge, it won't taste good when it gets cold."

Jiang Chen looked down at the bowl of white porridge. The rice grains had already bloomed and were topped with a few red dates. His mother liked to put red dates in her porridge, saying it was good for replenishing qi and blood, and he had been drinking it since he was a child.

He picked up the bowl and took a sip.

It still tastes the same.

"Mom." He put down his bowl.

"Um?"

"These kinds of things will probably happen more and more often in the future." Jiang Chen's voice was calm. "I will go to many places, fight many battles, and I may get injured, and I may—"

"Stop talking," Jiang Xueqin interrupted him, her voice trembling slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. "Go do what you need to do. Your dad and I are here at home. Just remember to come back for dinner."

Jiang Tianyi took a deep drag of his cigarette, coughing twice as he did so.

"Your mother is right," he said in a hoarse voice. "Just do what you're supposed to do, and don't embarrass me."

Jiang Chen looked at his parents, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"understood."

He lowered his head and continued drinking his porridge.

Outside the window, the sun had fully risen, and golden rays streamed into the living room, landing on the faded "福" (Fu, meaning good fortune) character.

The black ice flowers in the capital have stopped blooming.

The morning in Jiangzhou was as peaceful as ever.