Godslayer: Reincarnated with SSS Rank Cultivation System-Chapter 185: When you can destroy the heavens...

"Why am I here?" Wen Ran asked, his voice sharp and laced with annoyance, though his youthful features masked a deeper, more terrifying presence. He looked like an immortal beast, poised and ready to pounce, his gaze burning with a quiet fury. The air around him seemed to pulse with his unspoken anger, as if the very world feared the storm brewing inside him. His body tensed, as though ready to tear apart whatever or whoever had forced him into this place, making him confront memories he'd rather forget.

Yet, no response came. The silence was suffocating, as though the world itself had died, leaving nothing but a hollow void. Only the faintest whisper of wind swept through the stillness, brushing against his ears and neck, cold and unforgiving. The distant call of birds echoed faintly, a reminder that life, in some form, still existed beyond this place. But here, in this moment, everything felt dead.

The world around him looked exactly as he remembered, every detail a sharp reminder of his past. The trees, the path, the distant horizon—it was all familiar, yet it twisted in his chest like a dagger, drawing out a pain so raw it threatened to tear him apart. The weight of memories—of loss, of regret—crushed him, each breath a struggle against the crushing weight of the past.

Even Xiao Mo, perched on his shoulder, could feel the depth of the anguish radiating from him. The bond they shared through the system was more than just a connection of convenience—it was a link that allowed her to feel his emotions as if they were her own. She trembled slightly, her small paws tightening against him, but she didn't make a sound. She could feel it too—the agony that bled from him in waves, a pain so deep and consuming that it shook her to her very core.

Wen Ran closed his eyes for a moment, trying to suppress the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He had long since become numb to the world, pushing away any softness that might have remained. But here, now, in this place, the memories couldn't be pushed away. They came flooding back, uninvited, taunting him with the life he had lost.

"Ran'er, come here, and help me bring some water from the river."

The voice cut through the stillness, slicing into Wen Ran's chest like a blade. It was familiar—deep, warm, and unmistakably his father's voice. His heart thudded painfully, and for a moment, he was frozen in place, as if the air around him had thickened, pressing down on him with an almost suffocating weight.

"Father..." Wen Ran murmured, his voice soft, almost a whisper. The word slipped from his lips involuntarily, a pang of longing and pain twisting in his chest. His gaze turned toward the entrance of the small house, and there, standing in the threshold, was the man he had both loved and lost.

The figure before him seemed to almost shimmer in the air, as though the world itself bent around him. The man looked to be in his early thirties, with sharp, handsome features that could only be described as striking. His long black hair fell in a cascade of dark waves, moving gently in the breeze. The simplicity of his attire—a set of white sect robes, as snow-white as the winter's first frost—did nothing to lessen the aura of authority and grace he exuded. The robes were plain, unadorned, yet they held a quiet elegance, and Wen Ran knew instinctively that they belonged to the sect master.

The robes of his father's sect—the very sect that Wen Ran had refused to join in his past life. The sect that had shaped his father's life, and yet, had never been a path Wen Ran had desired to follow.

His father's face, though full of vitality and warmth, was framed by the same calm, measured expression that Wen Ran remembered from his childhood. It was a face that had always been the pillar of his life, the one that had provided strength, guidance, and comfort—until everything had crumbled.

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Wen Ran's heart tightened. The flood of memories came rushing back, and for a moment, he could feel the warmth of his father's presence again, just as it had been when he was young. The sound of the river rushing in the background, the smell of the earth, the faint rustle of leaves in the wind—all of it felt so real, so painfully vivid.

"Can't you just use your powers to make it rain? Why are you acting like a puny mortal?" Wen Ran snapped, his voice dripping with disdain, though it lacked the edge he once carried in his past life. It was a simple response, the one he would always give in moments like these. It was how he treated his father—dismissive, mocking, and yet, beneath the surface, there was something deeper: an unspoken love. A love he refused to acknowledge, a love that had always conflicted with his desire to push past his father's limits. His father was a man who chose to stay simple, to remain grounded in the world that Wen Ran had long since abandoned. It infuriated him. His father, with all his strength, had never desired to ascend to higher realms. He was content with being just a father, while Wen Ran had always wanted more—he wanted to be the strongest in the world.

His father's laughter broke through his thoughts, a deep, rich sound that filled the space around them. "Hahaha!" he boomed, slapping Wen Ran lightly on the back. "When you can destroy the heavens, I'll start acting like an immortal too, and stop being the simple man you hate. Now grab that damn bucket before I turn you into a flying sword again. You don't want me to beat you into submission, do you?"

Wen Ran's body froze at the casual menace in his father's tone, a reminder of the way things had been in his past life. The weight of that memory made a cold chill run down his spine, and he couldn't shake the image of being tossed around by his father, helpless to stop the endless training. It was the price of strength, the price he had paid for the power to become the strongest, but it didn't change the fact that he had hated it.

But that wasn't all. Even in the moments of torment, even when he was pushed beyond his limits, his father had never once shown a flicker of affection. There had been no tenderness in those hands, no love in the scolding words. His father had always been an enforcer, a strict teacher, demanding obedience and submission. He never allowed weakness, and as a result, Wen Ran had been forced to endure, to grow stronger despite the emotional toll it took.

"Fine, fine!" Wen Ran muttered, irritation simmering beneath his words, but there was something else too—something soft, something resigned. Despite his anger, despite the lingering resentment, there was a part of him that craved to please his father, to obey him even now, in this twisted version of the world where everything seemed to blur.