Roran''s POV:


    Roran was born into the Lareth branch family, a lesser yet respected part of the larger Lareth clan.


    His early years were marked by happiness, living comfortably with his parents in their modest estate. His cousin, Arin, who was one year younger, was his closest companion. The two of them shared a bond that seemed unbreakable, often spending their days playing in the gardens, exploring the woods, and even taking baths together under the watchful eyes of their parents.


    Their relationship was innocent, filled with the pure joy of childhood. Whether it was climbing trees, chasing each other through the fields, or simply sitting by the river talking about their dreams, they were inseparable.


    Did they harbor feelings of love for one another? They were too young to understand such complexities, but their bond was undeniably strong.


    As a child of the Lareth family, Roran was naturally introduced to the world of cultivation early on. Though he wasn’t allowed to begin his training just yet, the concept of cultivation fascinated him. He knew it meant strength, longevity, and perhaps most importantly, the ability to protect those he cared about. He often dreamed of the day he would start his training, imagining the power he would wield. His parents ensured he was well-prepared for that day, feeding him nutritious meals and soaking him in medicinal baths to fortify his young body.


    By all accounts, his future seemed bright. He would start cultivating at the age of ten, participate in the Immortal Alliance recruitment ceremony, and, with luck, join a prestigious sect that would guide his development.


    But everything changed when he was nine.


    One day, without warning, his parents mysteriously disappeared. There were no signs of a struggle, no notes left behind, just an empty house and a sense of dread that settled over young Roran. He was confused and scared, unsure of what to do or where to turn. Days turned into weeks, and still, there was no word from his parents.


    Amidst this chaos, Arin came to visit him. Her expression was unusually somber, her usual cheerfulness replaced by an awkward silence. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.


    "Brother Roran... I''m sorry."


    Before he could ask what she meant, she turned and left, leaving him standing in the doorway, bewildered and alone.


    At first, he didn’t understand. But it didn’t take long for the pieces to fall into place. His uncle, Eirik, who had always been kind to him, suddenly took over the estate, claiming it was his duty to manage the family’s wealth and resources in the absence of Roran’s parents. Under the clan''s law, Eirik was now Roran’s guardian, and by extension, the steward of everything his parents had left behind.


    Eirik pretended to care, offering hollow words of comfort as he stripped Roran of his birthright, with a practiced smile.


    "It’s for your own good, Roran. You’re still young, and you need someone to manage these affairs until you’re of age."


    "Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything is taken care of."


    But Roran saw through the facade.


    He knew this was nothing more than a calculated move to seize power and wealth. The clan had already declared his parents dead, despite their bodies never being found. It was too convenient, too well-timed.


    ''Why are they so certain my parents are dead? This is a conspiracy, but what can I do? I’m just a child…''


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    Roran’s resolve hardened in the days that followed. He couldn’t accept this injustice, but he was powerless to stop it. All he had left was his mother’s ancestral heirloom necklace, a strange trinket that he could only hope held some hidden power or secret.


    His only option now was to attend the recruitment ceremony of the Immortal Alliance and join a powerful sect. With their backing, he could perhaps find out what truly happened to his parents and reclaim what was rightfully his.


    But there was no way he could join the ceremony in his birth town. If word got back to his clan, Eirik would surely find a way to interfere. No, he needed to travel to another town, somewhere far from the Lareth family’s influence.


    Clutching his mother’s necklace and the few silver coins he had managed to save, Roran left the only home he had ever known. He boarded a caravan heading to a distant town, determined to attend the recruitment ceremony on time and begin his journey toward reclaiming his destiny.


    And then, about a month later.


    Roran successfully attended the recruitment ceremony at Elaria Town.


    When his fire attribute spiritual root with 90% purity was announced, he remained calm. He was already aware of his spiritual root''s quality, having been regularly examined by his parents. It was thanks to the medicinal baths that his spiritual root''s purity reached this high.


    ''If only things had gone as planned, another year of medicinal baths and my purity could have reached 95%.''


    He knew well the importance of this 5% difference. It wasn''t just numbers—it was the time needed to progress in cultivation. A person with a 90% pure spiritual root could reach Foundation Establishment in about ten years, but with 95%, it would take only eight.


    ''This gap will only widen as I advance, but life has forced my hand. If Mother hadn''t disappeared...''


    He couldn''t help but lament the loss.


    She was the only one who knew how to concoct the special medicinal bath. He''d watched her prepare it, but at that age, he lacked the alchemical knowledge to understand. By the time he could have learned alchemy and reached the 1st stage as an alchemist, the details would have faded from his mind, irretrievable.


    Unless someone used a soul search technique on him.


    The second trial was a test of endurance—climbing the stairs to the peak of the mountain. His parents'' body tempering preparations had not been in vain; he reached the 200-step mark with relative ease. But the difficulty increased exponentially after that. At the 300-step mark, he was suddenly thrust into an illusion.


    In the illusion, he was back with Arin, his childhood sweetheart cousin. His parents were present, and his uncle was the kind man he remembered. He and Arin married, had two children, and lived a peaceful life. For a moment, it felt real, almost too real.


    "Is this the life I could have had?"


    He couldn''t help but wonder.


    But he remembered his purpose, the reason he was here. With a heavy heart, he shattered the illusion with sheer willpower. Arin looked sad as the world crumbled, but she smiled at him and said,


    "Good luck, brother Roran."


    Stunned, Roran replied, "Yeah..."


    But as he spoke, he was already back on the stairs, with a pang of sadness lingering.


    ''She probably didn''t even hear me..''


    Determined, he continued the ascent.


    The 400th step, the 500th, the 600th—each milestone brought a new illusion. He lived many lives in those illusions—becoming a wealthy merchant, traveling the world, experiencing love and loss. But every time, he shattered the illusions, remembering his true goal: to join a sect, to cultivate, and to find his parents.


    Suddenly, his mind cleared, and he sensed his body absorbing spiritual power at an incredible rate.


    It was an epiphany—a state that was rare and highly coveted, yet impossible to seek out intentionally. Many cultivators yearned for it, but few ever experienced it. Roran, at just nine years old, was one of the fortunate few.


    He couldn’t control his body, all he could do was sit down and let the process unfold. His mind marveled at the sensation of the knowledge he had learned being refreshed with a deeper understanding. This profound experience went on for some time, and he lost track of how long it lasted.


    Suddenly, unfamiliar knowledge began to surface in his mind, knowledge that shocked him when he recognized its origin.


    When the epiphany finally ended, Roran found himself at the 3rd level of Spirit Gathering stage. However, as he opened his eyes, his expression turned stern.


    "The Calamity Witch..."


    The unfamiliar knowledge he now recognized as memories from his previous life, right up until his death.