The Synchronization

The moment stretched.

Jiang Rumei's shoulders shook as she wept, her fingers gripping his hand tightly. Her breath was uneven, each exhale laced with sorrow.

Jiang Shen sat frozen, his mind blank.

People had worried about him before. Some had offered advice, nudging him toward better choices. Others had extended a helping hand, making sure he never fell too hard. Back in his old life, he had met all kinds of people—teammates in God's Game who laughed with him during late-night matches, friends who covered his meals when money was tight, even strangers who had lent him kindness without expecting anything in return.

They had supported him. Encouraged him. Gave him a place to belong, even if only temporarily.

But never—not once—had anyone cried for him.

Not when he struggled. Not when he lost. Not even when he had silently given up on expecting more from life.

And now, sitting here, watching Jiang Rumei's shoulders tremble as she wept, Jiang found himself at a complete loss.

He felt the need to say something. Do something.

But nothing came.

Then—

[Assimilation Rate: 25%]

Oh, shit. Not this again.

Jiang tensed. He had experienced this twice before—each time the percentage increased, the pain struck without mercy. Sharp. Crushing. Inevitable.

But—nothing.

No searing headache. No dizziness.

Just silence. Then—

[Player and Character Synchronization: One-Fourth Complete] 

[Special Conditions Met] 

[Unlocking Player Privileges: "System"]

Jiang stiffened. His heart pounded.

What the hell is happening?

Before he could even process the words, his vision darkened.

[Initiating First Wave of Memory Integration]

Then—memories flooded in....

The scent of sun-warmed earth filled the air. Jiang stood in the middle of a vast field, golden stalks of rice swaying gently in the breeze. The sky stretched endlessly above, painted in hues of soft blue.

Ahead, a boy—six, maybe seven—laughed as he ran between the crops, his small hands gripping the fingers of a woman. His face was bright, his steps light.

Jiang knew, without question, that this was the old Jiang.

And the woman holding his hand—

The sunlight obscured her features, but Jiang didn't need to see her face to know. His heart clenched with an emotion that wasn't entirely his own.

—Mother.

"Shen'er, slow down," the woman said, her voice warm with laughter. "You'll trip."

"But I wanna show you!" The boy tugged eagerly. "Look, I found the biggest one!"

He pointed at a rice stalk, grinning. The woman chuckled softly, kneeling beside him.

"That's a good one." She ruffled his hair. "You're just like your father—always looking for the best."

The boy puffed out his chest. "Then I'll eat a lot, grow big and strong, roam the Jianghu, and become the strongest in the world!"

The woman's smile softened. "Oh? And what will you do once you become the strongest?"

The boy grinned. "I'll beat up all the bad guys! And then… then I'll take you to see the tallest mountains! The biggest rivers! I'll even build you a house made of gold!"

She laughed, shaking her head. "Silly child. What would I do with a golden house?"

"You can live like a queen! No one will ever bully you again!"

Her smile wavered—just for a second. A flicker of something unspoken.

Then, she pulled him into a hug, resting her chin atop his head. "Shen'er… you already protect me in ways you don't even realize."

The boy didn't understand.

He just buried his face against her and nodded, arms wrapping tightly around her waist.

Then—

The sky darkened.

The golden field twisted into shadows.

The warmth vanished.

And Jiang was pulled into another scene.

….

It was raining.

The scent of roasted meat and lantern oil tangled with the stench of blood.

Lanterns hung above the crowded streets, their red glow casting eerie reflections on the wet stone pavement. A festival, meant to be a celebration.

But beneath those lanterns lay a body.

A woman.

Her clothes were torn, soaked in crimson. Her face—unrecognizable.

Yet Jiang knew.

This was old Jiang's mother.

A boy stood before her. Taller now. No longer six. No longer laughing.

Jiang's breath caught.

Old Jiang's face was blank. Not grief-stricken. Not confused. Just… empty.

Beside him stood a young woman, her martial robe damp from the rain. A sword hung at her waist, its blade unsheathed.

Her fingers were clenched so tightly around the sharp edge that blood dripped between them.

She was trembling. But not with fear.

With rage.

Her jaw was locked, her eyes dark, burning.

And old Jiang?

He simply stared.

For a long moment, he didn't move. Didn't breathe.

Then, slowly, his lips parted.

"I'll kill them all."

His voice was flat. Hollow.

"I'll kill them all."

"I'll kill all—"

The scene cut.

.... 

Jiang gasped.

His vision cleared, the soft morning light of Rumei's office replacing the rain-drenched streets. His body tensed, his breathing sharp.

It was overwhelming.

The emotions—the grief, the fury, the terrifying emptiness—he didn't know if they were his or old Jiang's.

But they crashed into him like a tidal wave.

His hands were shaking. His heart was pounding.

And Jiang Rumei was still holding his hands, her tears warm against his skin.

It felt like he had lived a lifetime in those few seconds.

Jiang clenched his fists, trying to suppress the storm inside him.

The old Jiang had lost his mother.

And yet, he hadn't cried.

Hadn't screamed.

Hadn't fallen to his knees in despair.

He had simply turned to darkness.

Jiang swallowed hard, his grip tightening around Rumei's hands.

He had to say something.

[Personality Speech Activated]

Jiang parted his lips.

He wanted to tell her the truth.

That he wasn't her Shen'er.

That the boy she was crying for was long gone.

"I—"

[Personality Speech Activated]

His body trembled. His breath hitched.

But he forced himself to keep going.

"I—Aunty."

Rumei froze.

Her swollen eyes widened. She wiped her face with trembling fingers.

"…Shen'er?"

Jiang's heart pounded.

The system's voice rang again.

[System: Requesting a Stronger Skill]

 [Status: Denied]

[System: Requesting a Stronger Skill]

 [Status: Denied]

[System: Requesting a Stronger Skill]

 [Status: Denied]

[Notice: Same Request has been made three times. Temporarily Restricting all Player Skill Requests from System #0001]

Jiang gritted his teeth. His breath came in uneven gasps. His hands trembled in Rumei's grasp.

But still he couldn't stop, it was if something was forcing the words out of him.

"Aunty, I'm—"

A sharp pulse tore through his skull. His vision blurred at the edges.

[System: Requesting Access to Character Skills] 

[Status: Access Denied]

Jiang clenched his jaw. His body felt wrong—too light, too heavy, as if he wasn't fully inside himself. A pressure coiled around his chest, tightening, suffocating.

Yet his lips kept moving.

"I'm not the Jiang Shen that you—"

A stronger pulse. His breath hitched.

His surroundings wavered. Rumei's tear-streaked face. The dim glow of the morning sun. The warmth of her hands—

Everything blurred.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears. His body was shaking, but he couldn't tell if it was from his own emotions or something else.

Then—

[System: Emergency Access Request] 

[Admin #04: Checking Conditions…]

[Admin #04: Condition No. 08 matches the situation] 

[Admin #04: Access Granted to Character Skills]

[System: Skill Requirements - #####]

[Admin #04: Searching for Suitable Skills…] 

[Admin #04: Skill No. 99 (Mid-Tier) Matches the Requirements] 

[Admin #04: Transferring Ownership…]

[System: New Skill Registered to Character Profile]

[System: Skill "Composed Mind" Activated]

Silence.

Jiang inhaled. Slow. Steady.

The trembling ceased.

His racing heart slowed.

The suffocating weight vanished.

His emotions—the storm, the rage, the grief—gone.

Like a switch had been flipped.

His body relaxed. His mind sharpened.

Jiang's crimson eyes locked onto Rumei's. The words that had been clawing their way out of his throat?

They never came.

Because the moment Composed Mind activated—

He no longer felt the need to say them.

Rumei's grip on his hands loosened slightly, but her eyes never left his face. The raw emotion in them, the lingering pain—he recognized it now, but he no longer drowned in it.

A moment ago, he had been seconds away from blurting out the truth, from unraveling everything. But now?

Now, he understood the consequences.

If he had told her the truth, things could have gone south—badly.

It was still unclear what had truly happened to the old Jiang. Was he dead? Was he trapped somewhere? Had they merged into one? The system hadn't given him answers.

And without answers, the truth was a gamble.

Because what Jiang saw, what he heard, might not even be real. There were too many unknowns, too many secrets buried beneath the surface.

And if he had told her—if he had looked Rumei in the eye and said, your Shen'er is gone—

Would she have believed him?

Or would she have ripped him apart just to find the boy she lost?

An emotional person doesn't understand the language of logic.

And Jiang couldn't afford to take that risk.

Rumei wiped the last traces of tears from her face before speaking again, her voice softer now.

"Shen'er… what were you saying just now?"

Jiang met her gaze. He had nearly let something slip—now he needed to clean up the mess he made himself.

His mind raced, thoughts colliding at full speed.

Man! Thinking this much is gonna shave years off my life.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

Jiang exhaled. Perfect timing.

He pushed himself to his feet just as Rumei did the same. She straightened her robes, took a slow breath, and reached for the cup on her desk.

She lifted the lid, took a small sip, then set it back down. Her voice was steady again. "Bai, who is it?"

From the other side of the door, a familiar voice answered.

"Master."

Jiang raised a brow. So her name is Bai.

"Junior Disciple Chen Feng requests a meeting with you."

Jiang froze. What the f**k?