Sunvale City — The Everett Family Estate
The Training Grounds
"James Everett. Body Tempering, seventh layer."
The announcement echoed across the martial arena, drawing murmurs from the assembled crowd. The white-haired elder who'd performed the assessment lowered his hand from the boy's wrist and smiled warmly.
"Remarkable, Young Master. Only nine years old and already at the seventh layer." He stroked his beard, nodding with approval. "You have a real chance at reaching the Transcendent realm someday."
The boy standing before him—fair-skinned with features that looked almost carved from jade—offered a modest smile in return. Around him, the other children of the Everett household watched with a mixture of envy and admiration. Some whispered among themselves. Others simply stared.
James accepted their attention the way he accepted everything else: with calm indifference.
He stepped down from the testing platform, gave a polite nod to the elder, and walked away without looking back.
---
Today, for the first time in months, James skipped his afternoon training.
He moved through the estate's corridors at a pace just short of running, his heart hammering against his ribs. The moment he reached his quarters, he slid the door shut and pressed his back against it, chest heaving.
His palm tingled.
He raised his hand, and the air above it began to shimmer. Ripples spread outward like stones dropped in still water, and from that distortion emerged an object—an ancient mirror of tarnished bronze, small enough to fit in his palm.
"Finally," he breathed. "Finally, something's happening."
The mirror had been with him since birth. Not physically—it existed somewhere inside him, in a space he couldn't quite explain. For nine years, he'd pulled it out countless times, hoping for... something. Anything. Some hint of what it was supposed to do.
For nine years, it had shown him nothing but his own reflection.
But during today's assessment, he'd felt it stir. A pulse of warmth in his chest. A sense of *awakening*.
Now, as he stared into the bronze surface, his childish face began to blur and shift.
*"A hundred years..."* A voice emerged from the mirror—old, weathered, tinged with bitter amusement. *"A hundred years I've carried this thing, and never once did it react. And now, at the very end, it finally decides to work."*
The voice chuckled darkly. *"Fate has a sense of humor after all."*
James nearly dropped the mirror.
*What the hell?*
A face had appeared in the bronze—not his own. This face was aged, lined with decades of hardship, yet the eyes that stared back at him held no trace of frailty. They were calm. Knowing. The kind of eyes that had seen too much to be surprised by anything.
The old man wore simple gray robes. His frame was thin, almost gaunt, but his spine was straight as a blade, unbowed by time.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then the old man's eyes widened. His lips parted, trembling slightly, as he leaned closer to examine James through the mirror's surface.
*Is he... excited to see me?* James felt a flutter of hope. *Maybe this old man is some kind of legendary master. Maybe he's been waiting for someone with my talent—*
"You're James Everett," the old man said slowly. "Born into the Everett family of Sunvale City. The so-called genius of your generation."
James straightened proudly. "That's right."
"And also..." The old man's voice dropped. "An otherworlder."
The blood drained from James's face.
*Otherworlder.*
That was his deepest secret. The truth he'd never spoken aloud, not once in nine years. He'd been someone else before this life—someone from a different world entirely. He'd died there and woken up here, a baby with memories that didn't belong.
No one knew. No one *could* know.
"How—" James's voice cracked. "How do you know that?"
The old man smiled, and there was something unbearably sad in that expression.
"Because I'm also James Everett. From Sunvale City." He paused. "And I'm also an otherworlder."
---
It took a long time for James to process what he was hearing.
The man in the mirror wasn't some ancient master or hidden expert. He was James himself—a hundred years older, speaking across the gulf of time through this strange bronze artifact.
The elder James had carried the mirror his entire life without it ever activating. Until now. Until this moment, when past and future had somehow connected.
Once the initial shock faded, the younger James felt his fear transform into excitement.
*My cheat ability is... myself?*
Honestly? That was kind of perfect. Who could he trust more than his own future self?
"Old man—" He caught himself. "I mean, uh, future me. So tell me—am I amazing? A legendary genius? Did I become invincible? The greatest warrior the world has ever seen?"
The old man's expression flickered. Then he sighed.
"I'm no genius," he said quietly. "And I'm certainly not invincible. I spent my entire life cultivating, and I only just managed to reach the Transcendent realm. I'm sorry to disappoint you."
James's face fell. The Transcendent realm wasn't *bad*, exactly—in Sunvale City, experts at that level could be counted on one hand. But he'd been hoping for something more. A lot more. In his fantasies, his future self was a god among men, plucking stars from the sky and crushing mountains with a glance.
Not... this.
"Well," James said, rallying, "even if you're not super powerful, surely you've lived an exciting life, right? Adventures? Romance? Traveling the world with a sword at your hip and good wine in your hand?"
The old man was quiet for a moment.
"I left home once," he said. "Almost died. Never left again."
"Oh."
"The martial world is dangerous."
"Right."
James chewed his lip. This was getting depressing.
"Okay, but you're the head of the Everett family, aren't you? That's something. You must have wealth, power, influence—"
"I have responsibilities," the old man cut in. "Endless ones. Every decision I make affects hundreds of lives. I walk on eggshells from dawn to dusk, every single day." He closed his eyes briefly. "If I could go back... I would have stayed in the martial world. Taken the risks. Lived while I still could."
James stared at his future self, horrified.
"That sounds awful."
"It is."
"I don't want to become you."
The words came out before he could stop them, blunt and graceless. But instead of anger, the old man threw his head back and laughed—a full, genuine laugh that echoed strangely through the mirror.
"Good!" he said, grinning now. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear. You've still got fire in you. Don't let anyone put it out."
The old man's eyes softened. He looked at James the way one might look at a photograph of someone long gone—with fondness, and grief, and a hundred regrets.
"You're right not to want my life," he continued. "So let me help you avoid it."
James leaned forward, suddenly alert. "Help me how?"
"You're already thinking it, aren't you?" The old man's smile turned knowing. "I've lived a hundred years. I know things—events that will happen, opportunities that will arise. If you can seize them before anyone else..."
"I could change my fate," James finished, pulse quickening.
"Exactly."
"So tell me. What opportunities are there? What can I do?"
The old man held up a hand. "I can't tell you everything. Some opportunities would only get you killed—you're not strong enough yet, and knowing about them would just make you reckless." He fixed James with a steady gaze. "I know exactly what you're worth. Overreaching will only lead to an early grave."
James wanted to argue, but something in the old man's tone stopped him. There was weight there. Experience.
*He's right. He knows me better than anyone.*
"But," the old man continued, "there are a few things within your reach. Things that could put you on a different path."
James nodded eagerly, practically vibrating with anticipation.
In all his years of schooling—both in this life and his previous one—he had never paid this much attention to anything.
"Tell me," he said. "I'm listening."
---
**End of Chapter 1**