CHAPTER 432: 432. TYLER’S TEARS

After that, Tyler continued to follow the younger version of himself through the dream. Time flowed strangely in this realm—before he knew it, days turned into weeks, and a full month passed in what felt like an instant.

Now, they were inside a vast and serene courtyard, blooming with ethereal flowers and rare trees. The air carried the scent of spiritual herbs, and the sky above shimmered with a faint layer of protective qi.

At the center of this garden-like training ground stood Little Tyler, only five years old yet already at the third stage of the Qi Refining Realm.

He was practicing earnestly, surrounded by five instructors. Each teacher stood for one of the five elements— Thunder, Wind, Lava, Wood, and Ice. Little Tyler wasn’t just an ordinary child; he possessed an extremely rare constitution known as the Archeon Five Elemental Body— a sacred physique believed to only manifest once in several millennia.

"Thunder Blaaast!" Little Tyler cried out adorably. A tiny spark of lightning leapt from his palm and fizzled into the air, scattering static across the leaves.

"Wind! Heed my Caaall!" he shouted again. This time, a gentle breeze stirred, picking up fallen petals and dancing around him in a spiral.

Watching from the side, the real Tyler— now a silent observer of this dream realm— folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. "Could it be... I was actually a genius?" he muttered.

Little Tyler continued his practice with eager energy. He moved through the Lava and Wood techniques fluidly, surprising even his teachers with how smoothly he could manipulate such diverse energies.

Then came the final technique— Ice.

"Mystic Iceeeee Artsssss!" Little Tyler exclaimed, and concentrated his qi into his palm. A blade of crystal-clear ice formed, elegant and pure. With a flick of his wrist, he slashed it toward a nearby wooden dummy. The blade exploded on contact, freezing part of the dummy solid.

The real Tyler blinked. "That... that technique..." His heart stirred. "Cool..."

Maybe he was an Ice Use now. He was more interested in the last technique.

These memories seemed very new, like smoke slipping through his fingers. It disappeared from his mind forever. Tyler doesn’t understand why he was here. But he can only guess that it is influence of the Feather of Dreamwalker.

After the session, Little Tyler skipped cheerfully back toward his residence. Just outside the main hall, a graceful woman with long, silver hair stepped forward, dressed in white robes embroidered with frost lotus motifs. Her beauty was breathtaking— not just in appearance, but in aura. There was a warmth about her, a kindness that reached straight to the soul.

The moment Tyler saw her, he froze. Though he had no memory of this woman in his waking life, something deep inside him stirred. A warmth. A longing. An ache.

In the real world, Tyler sat aboard the tiny boat his consciousness tethered to Kael Driftsbane by the glowing Feather of Dreamwalker. Rays of dreamlight connected them at the forehead, the strands pulsing like gentle heartbeats. If someone were watching closely, they would see silent tears slipping down Tyler’s cheeks.

Back in the dream, Tyler opened his mouth, the same moment Little Tyler did. In perfect unison, they both whispered:

"Mother..."

Tyler never knew who his mother was. In his memories, he had been raised as an orphan on the streets, later taken in by an old archaeologist. But now—here she was, so vivid and real, like a part of his soul he never knew was missing.

She smiled and opened her arms.

Tyler instinctively stepped forward.

But her arms passed through him like mist.

He turned— and there she was, embracing Little Tyler behind him, who grinned with pure bliss as he nestled into her embrace.

"Mother! I finished my training!" Little Tyler beamed proudly.

"Aren’t you just the most amazing little Xiaochen?" she cooed, gently patting his head. "My son is one in a billion genius."

"Xiaochen?" Tyler muttered, stunned. "My name was Bai Xiaochen?"

He recalled something. The name Tyler White had been given to him by the archaeologist uncle who raised him. He had never known his birth name. Perhaps it was fate— or divine irony— that "Bai" meant "White" in their native tongue.

Just then, a maid stepped forward and bowed.

"Madam Bai, Master Long has arrived."

A powerful ripple of qi filled the air, and soon a tall man entered the courtyard, his aura distorting the space around him. He bore a striking resemblance to a grown-up version of Tyler. His eyes were sharp, and he radiated raw, unrestrained power.

Little Tyler looked up and blinked in awe.

"What, can’t even handle a little bit of pressure?" the man— Master Long— said in a stern voice.

Smack!

A fist flew through the air and landed squarely on his cheek.

He was sent flying into a nearby pillar.

"Long Tianzhi!" Madam Bai growled, her eyes flaring with righteous fury. "Is that how you speak to your son?"

Long Tianzhi picked himself up, his cheek swelling, but before anyone could blink, he was already kneeling before her.

"S-sorry, darling... I was just joking! Tee-hee..." he said with a sheepish smile.

"Mother, don’t bully Father," Little Tyler said, tugging at her sleeve.

"Ah, my sweet son!" Long Tianzhi’s eyes sparkled as he scooped the boy up into his arms.

"Ara~ Don’t just steal all of my son’s affection with your shameless act," Madam Bai teased, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course not! Ying’er will always be my number one!" Long Tianzhi laughed and wrapped his arms around both his wife and son.

Watching from the side, Tyler felt his throat tighten.

"...Long Tianzhi... Bai Ying’er..." he whispered.

Two names he had never known.

Two people he had never met.

His father and mother.

This dream, more than anything, was giving him a glimpse into the life he was never allowed to remember.

A life stolen by fate.

And now, for the first time in years, Tyler finally felt something return— something fragile, buried beneath years of his life.

He felt whole.