When Old Man appeared before him again, he realized he had wrongly blamed Old Man. Those withered hands handed him a set of gently used clothes; it was clear Old Man wanted him to change and wash up.

Seeing the faint smile on Old Man's face, he couldn't help but blush. At this moment, his clothes were tattered, his hair disheveled, and his whole body filthy.

A wave of melancholy swept through Ethan Brooks's heart. Ten thousand years ago, he had never been so destitute. Silently, he picked up the wooden bucket and walked toward the well.

He circulated his inner qi, and with a slight exertion, the ragged clothes on his body completely disintegrated and fell to the ground.

This was the treasured Divine Silkworm Robe from back then! Time is merciless—what was once impervious to water, fire, blades, and spears could not withstand the erosion of ten thousand years!

The icy well water washed away the grime from his body, but it could not wash away the troubles in his heart.

“What should I do? If I don’t understand the language of the current continent, I can’t communicate with anyone. How am I supposed to survive in this world?”

Ethan Brooks put on the clothes Old Man had prepared for him and walked to the front of the thatched hut, smiling at Old Man to express his gratitude.

A delicious aroma of food wafted over. Old Man slowly walked to the stove nearby, motioning for him to come over.

Ethan Brooks picked up the bowl of porridge Old Man handed him, feeling emotional: Ten thousand years… I never thought I’d be able to sit at a dinner table again. Life is truly unpredictable!

His stomach was empty, so it wasn’t suitable to eat anything greasy. A bowl of porridge was just right. After dinner, night had already fallen. Ethan Brooks followed Old Man into the house. Old Man lit a candle, and the gentle candlelight filled the small room with a warm glow.

The furnishings were very simple: a wooden bed, a chair, and a desk.

The desk was spotless, with a dozen or so books neatly arranged on top. But Ethan Brooks couldn’t recognize a single character on the covers. After ten thousand years, the writing of the continent had completely changed. He felt a wave of disappointment.

When Old Man went into another room, Ethan Brooks lay on the chair, his mind filled with countless thoughts, but not a trace of joy.

Ten thousand years ago, though he came from a prominent family, he himself was quite ordinary. Living in that kind of circle, he bore too much pressure and was constantly tormented by pain. He had long grown weary of that life. If not for the attachments in his heart, death might have been a kind of release for him.

Fate toys with people. Ten thousand years later, he had somehow come back to life. Although he had shed the heavy burdens he once carried, everything had changed…

Ethan Brooks felt an overwhelming bitterness. His family and friends had long since passed into the underworld, his beloved confidantes had returned to the earth, and now he was the only one left, living alone in this world. He found life utterly joyless.

He mocked himself: “Did I escape history, or was I abandoned by it?”

The candle burned out, the flame flickered one last time, and the room was plunged into darkness.

Outside the window, the stars twinkled, and the night was especially quiet. But Ethan Brooks tossed and turned in bed, unable to fall asleep.

He forced himself to calm down and began to circulate his family’s secret cultivation technique, wanting to see if his power remained after ten thousand years.

Qi flowed through his body like a gentle stream. After all these years, his internal strength had not changed in the slightest.

Because he was deliberately circulating his cultivation, his senses immediately became sharper. He faintly heard muffled, sorrowful howls coming from the direction of the cemetery, sending chills down his spine.

“So many fierce beasts? This Old Man is so old, yet he guards the graves here alone. It’s truly dangerous!”

Ethan Brooks didn’t know that at this very moment, Old Man had already entered the Divine Demon Cemetery, carrying a basket filled with fragrant snow maple flowers. Old Man ignored the terrifying illusions of demons and monsters, placing a few pure white petals in front of each grave, his expression devout.

Ethan Brooks’s “former residence,” that low, small grave, had sunk after the earth inside collapsed, and had almost disappeared, barely protruding above the ground.

Old Man tottered over, sighing deeply: “Alas! Since you have no tombstone, I’m afraid you’ll soon vanish from the memory of the world. Perhaps that’s for the best—less glory, more simplicity, peace and quiet, free from disturbance. From whence you came, to whence you shall return.”

With that, Old Man slowly squatted down, stretched out both hands, and carefully brushed the raised earth away, making the little grave disappear completely. A dozen or so flower petals drifted down from the air, leaving behind a lingering fragrance.

At dawn, a ray of sunlight shone into the room through the window. Ethan Brooks opened his bleary eyes and muttered to himself, “Strange, why hasn’t Father sent someone to urge me to practice today? Oh, that’s right, he’s about to step into the Immortal Martial Realm—he has no time to bother with me anymore.”

Suddenly, he noticed the simple furnishings in the room. He sat up with a start, and after a long while, murmured, “So it’s all real. Ten thousand years have truly flown by!”

He gently pushed open the little door of the thatched hut and stepped into the yard. The fresh air, carrying the scent of flowers and grass, rushed to greet him, making him feel refreshed and clear-headed. A light mist drifted through the forest, slowly swirling. Birds, unafraid of people, hopped from branch to branch, singing sweetly. Ethan Brooks closed his eyes, savoring this harmonious, poetic scene.

“You’re awake?” Old Man’s voice came from behind him.

Ethan Brooks couldn’t understand Old Man’s words, so he could only respond with a smile.