He drew the stone across his wrist.
The blood flow. He held his wrist over the flag. Nothing happened. The blood continued to fall. It fell and fell. He looked at his son. He looked at his daughter-in-law. He held out the stone.
He said: Do the same.
The husband took the stone. He drew it across his wrist. The blood came. It fell on the flag.
Nothing changed.
The wife took the stone. Her hand was trembling. She drew it across her wrist. The blood came. It fell on the flag.
Still the same.Nothing
They stood at the grave. Their wrists were bleeding. The flag was dark cover by blood.
The wife said: It did not work.
The husband said: What do we do now?
The grandfather did not answer. He did not know either.
He looked at his wrist. The blood was still flowing. It was falling on the flag and the grave.
He said: Keep pouring all of your blood
The husband said: What?
She said: The grave—
No sooner after she said,
The ground split.
Not a crack. Not a fissure. A mouth. The grave opened like a mouth. The earth pulled apart. The tombstone leaned. The mound of earth collapsed inward. The darkness beneath was not darkness. It was deeper. It was older. It was the place where the bodies were buried. The place where the nine souls were trapped.
The grandfather felt it first. The earth pulled at his feet. It pulled at his legs. It pulled at his body. He was being swallowed. He was being taken. He did not resist.
He said: It is taking us.
The husband say "hold on.
then they gone.
The earth closed above them.
The grave was silent. The tombstone stood. The mound of earth was smooth. No crack. No fissure. No sign that anything had happened. The flag was gone. The stone was gone. The blood was gone. Only the grave remained. Waiting.
---
Suddenly, darkness moved and replace by bright light
In the middle of this space.
A Cocoon. floating up and down. slowly.
The woman gasped. Her hand went to her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears.
She said: Wen De. That is Wen De.
The man stepped forward. His hand reached out. He wanted to touch. He wanted to hold. He wanted to pull the cocoon .
He had not held his son since the day they were taken.
He said: Wen De. We are here. We found you.
The moment his hand touched the cocoon,it moved.
Not much. A tremor. A pulse. A breath. The thing inside was stirring. Not waking. Stirring.
The cocoon pulsed. The light and dark that wove together shifted. The threads that held it together tightened. Then loosened. Then tightened again. Then a crack appeared.
Not on the surface. Not on the shell. In the air around it. In the void itself. The space around the cocoon cracked. Not like glass. Not like ice. Like something that had been waiting to break. Like something that had been holding itself together and want to come out.
The wife gasped. Her hand reached out. She did not know what she was reaching for. She only knew that something was breaking. Something was happening. Something was changing.
She said: Wen De.
The crack widened. The void around the cocoon splintered. The light and dark that had woven the cocoon began to unravel. The threads snapped. The shell began to fall.
Not slowly. Drastically. Pieces of light. Pieces of dark. Pieces of something that was not light and not dark. They fell. They tumbled. They scattered into the void.
The cocoon was breaking.
The grandfather, limping, stepped forward. He reached out.
He said: Wen De.
from the cocoon, comes bright light. so bright, it make three of them closed their eyes simultaneously.
then comes a sound.
CRACK...CRACK...CRACK ..
and then simultaneously, light and dark intertwined and its exploded.
Cocoon shells flying and falling rapidly and then stop. hanging in the air.
There he is. His eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell.
Then, all the shells,flying slowly and descended to the boy body and merge completely. flawlessly.
The boy open his eyes and start floating.
He extended his small hand and lightly grasped at the fabric of time.
With a single thought, chronology obeyed.
The world around him collapsed, rewinding violently as scenes shattered and reassembled in reverse order.
Days folded into seconds.
Years unraveled into moments.
Entire ages vanished like dust.
Reality peeled back layer by layer until he arrived at the beginning of the creation
He watched it unfold with perfect clarity.
The transition was seamless... too seamless. The boy, examined every fluctuation, every ripple in space and causality, searching for a guiding hand.
There was none.
No summoning array.
No godly intervention.
No supreme will hiding behind the curtain.
It was as if the universe itself had simply allowed it to happen.
Unsatisfied, The boy continued to rewind and forward.
The scene shifted again.
And again.
And again.
From different perspectives. Across parallel timelines.
Through causality, karma, destiny, and even beyond fate itself.
He peeled reality apart down to its most fundamental principles, yet found nothing unusual.
No fingerprints.
No lingering intent.
No trace of a higher existence.
The boy said " something definitely tempered with this. But why cant I find it."
Even with his current power, where even ancient deity were no more than ants before him... he still found no answers.
Finally, the boy released his grip on time.
The visions dissolved, and the present reassembled around him.
He stood quietly in the void, his expression calm, yet his eyes carried a rare hint of depth.
"...Curious," he muttered softly. He wondered how a thing could happen.
For something to orchestrate his rebirth, grant him a body, and then erase itself so completely that even he could not trace it... such an existence
He dissected every second, every heartbeat, every microscopic change in the environment.
Nothing.
Or perhaps... deliberate.
After a long silence, Wen De chuckled lightly.
"Either you're beyond my current understanding," he said calmly, "or you never intended to be found. But when i find you, just be ready to face my wrath."
He chose not to pursue the matter further for now.
Whatever lay behind his origin would reveal itself when the time was right.
After all, eternity was on his side.
Unseen by the boy, far beyond space, time, and multiverses, a presence stirred ever so slightly
---
Then the boy, look behind and start walking slowly.
He smiled.
The mother felt it first. A chill. Not in her heart. Not in her mind. In her tailbone. Deep. Ancient. The place where instinct lives. The place that knows before the brain knows. Her son was smiling at her. But the smile was wrong. It was his smile. It was not his smile. It was something else looking out through his eyes.
The father stepped forward. His voice was quiet. Hopeful. Afraid.
He said: Wen De. Is that you?
The boy did not answer. He rose. His body was small. Five years old. Thin. But he rose. He stood. He was not floating. He was standing on nothing. The void held him. He looked at the father. He looked at the mother. He looked at the grandfather.
Then he spoke.
His voice was the voice of a child. High. Soft. But underneath it, something else. Something deep. Something old. Something that had been waiting since the beginning of the world.
He said: Hello.
The mother's hand went to her mouth. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to pull him close and never let go. But she could not move. The chill in her tailbone held her. The instinct held her. Something was wrong.
The boy looked at her. His eyes were kind. They were gentle. They were the eyes of her son. They were the eyes of something that had seen the birth of stars.
He said: Mother. Your instinct are right. I am both Wen De and not Wen De. It is hard to explain.
He looked at his hands. His small hands. The hands that had buried them. The hands that had carried their heads to the grave. The hands that had walked away.
He said: From a physical perspective, I am still a five-year-old child. But inside—my soul—I have already lived more than everything. More than anything that has ever lived. I have lived as early as the beginning of creation.
The grandfather stepped closer. His leg was broken. He did not feel it. His eyes were on the boy. His grandson. The boy who had drunk his blood. The boy who had lived because he died. The boy who had been swallowed by the world. The boy who was standing before him.
The boy looked at him. His eyes softened. Something passed between them. The blood.
He said: Grandfather, thank you for feeding me your blood. Let it be known to you that your act will forever be etched into my heart. Into my memory. I will never forget.
He smiled again.
The mother's voice broke the silence. It was not a whisper. It was not a cry. It was a scream. The scream of a mother who knows. The scream of a mother who has always known. The scream that comes from the place where instinct lives.
She screamed: He is not Wen De!
The father turned to her. His face was confused. His eyes were searching.
He said: What?
She said: He is not Wen De. That is not our son.
She pointed at the boy. Her hand was shaking. Her voice was shaking. But her eyes were not shaking. They were sure.
He said : Mother. I am Wen De. Your son, don't ever doubt it.
He smiled. The smile was gentle. It was the smile of a child. It was the smile of something older than the world. It was his smile. It was not his smile.