What greeted Samael was a young man—or perhaps a woman—it was difficult to tell. They appeared to be about his age.
The presumed young boy had a full head of straight, dark silver hair, just long enough to graze his shoulders, a stark contrast to Samael's wild mane that stretched to the ends of his back.
His eyes shone with a soft, unreadable azure light, like the depths of an ocean that refused to be fully known. They were complemented by a charming face—and an even more charming smile.
He wore simple yet luxurious black robes, their fine weave a striking contrast to the broken, rundown shop that surrounded him.
Samael stepped forward and then stopped. For a brief moment, silence reigned as they gazed deeply into each other's eyes.
Aegon stared into Samael's gaze, as though searching for something buried within. But when he found only pure indifference, he grinned.
"Glad to see you haven't regained your sanity."
Laughing, the two embraced, a brief hug—one Samael instantly regretted as the pain from his bruised and broken bones flared in protest.
Aegon quickly placed him onto a chair, then rushed to the back to gather the necessary medical tools. As he moved, Samael took the moment to observe the shop around him.
In all honesty, there wasn't much to take in. The floors were made of rotting wood, the ceiling of mold-covered stone. At the front stood a modest reception desk, behind which dozens of boxes rested, filled with pills of various kinds.
Adjacent to the desk were a few broken metal chairs—the same kind Samael now sat on.
The shop itself was spacious, but the overwhelming number of dusty boxes, stacked haphazardly, made the space feel cramped and boxed-in.
Despite the state of the place, Samael couldn't help but smile. He exhaled slowly, a breath filled with quiet nostalgia.
WHOOSH!
Aegon emerged from the inventory, sliding over the counter in a smooth motion and arriving before Samael. In his hands were dozens of clear glass boxes, each containing a single glowing golden pill, their surfaces etched with images of swimming white dragons.
Without hesitation, Samael accepted the boxes and began opening them, swallowing the pills one after the other.
PAH! POP!
In a matter of moments, his bruised, lacerated flesh began to mend, his broken bones snapping back into place with audible cracks. But it didn't end there. A rush of qi surged through his body, flooding his body with a sensation of overwhelming strength and vitality.
He looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers, nodding in approval. His body had healed. He was whole again.
Most of his injuries hadn't come from the harsh fall from the sky, but rather from the backlash caused when he channeled Elder Dalia's qi through his mortal frame.
The fact that he hadn't instantly imploded spoke volumes about the sheer durability of his body—and the number of pills it took to stabilize him only highlighted that point further.
With the amount of precious resources he had consumed growing up, he was already more than capable of contending with actual cultivators as a mere mortal.
In truth, had he not purposefully suppressed the effects of the food and resources that nourished him during his youth, he would have long since become untouchable within the realm of mortality.
But his ambitions far exceeded such small victories. He had greater plans—plans that would render such accomplishments insignificant.
"Feeling better?" Aegon asked as he settled onto a wooden stool across from him.
"As good as new," Samael replied. "It'll take a few days for my body to accommodate the excess qi I couldn't fully digest, but I'll be fine."
"What did you even do to escape this time? It's not like you to take such risks—at least not so early."
Samael sighed. "I used my protector's qi shield as fuel to activate a formation relay." He raised his hand and showed it to Aegon. "I drew it directly on my palm."
Aegon chuckled at the sight, clearly less shocked than most would be.
"And as for why I took such a risk?" Samael continued. "It's like I told you before. I expected complications in this life—but what I've seen so far… I'm not sure whether to call it disturbing or simply annoying."
Aegon frowned. "What is it?"
"They've all returned."
Aegon's eyes widened. "All of them?!" he exclaimed, voice thick with disbelief.
Samael nodded as he slowly rose from his seat. "And that's just the beginning. We'll need to awaken the others much earlier than I originally planned."
"Which means you're going to have to cause a lot of chaos…" Aegon murmured, finishing Samael's thought.
Aegon—across all his lives, there had been very few Samael truly trusted. But Aegon was one of them. One of four loyal vassals who had followed him across lifetimes.
Well, perhaps not entirely.
It wasn't until Samael's fourth life that he'd discovered a method to reincarnate them alongside himself. But from that life onward, they had followed faithfully, always born in the same era, with their memories perfectly intact.
However, even that process wasn't without its costs.
Samael couldn't break the world's laws so brazenly—not without consequence. As a result, his vassals were forced to lie dormant during the early stages of each life, waiting until he became strong enough to bear the burden of their presence.
But this time, he didn't have the luxury of waiting.
In this life, he couldn't afford to waste even a single second.
"I'll explain everything as we go," Samael said, walking toward the shop's back. "Let's head to the station. I want to begin cultivating—now."
Aegon let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he shook his head. This all sounded like a vortex of labor waiting to devour him.
Begrudgingly, he stood up and walked over to the front door, locking it behind them. Then, he made his way over to the reception counter, climbed over it, and slipped past the hanging curtain that led into the shop's inventory.
"Let's go," he said.
Samael followed.