Chapter 1095: The Meeting
I had imagined this moment countless times. In some versions, they recognized me immediately.
In others, they refused to believe me. Sometimes there were tears. Sometimes laughter. Sometimes anger.
The reality was none of those things.
The reality was shock. Pure, overwhelming shock.
My mother’s eyes widened. It was the look of a person whose entire understanding of reality had just been overturned.
I watched the color drain from her face.
Watched her lips part slightly. Watched her stare at me as though she had forgotten how to breathe.
Beside her, Julius looked much the same.
The confidence and composure that had carried him through countless battles simply vanished. For the first time since I had arrived, neither of them looked like Transcendents.
They looked like parents who had just heard their dead son speak.
My mother’s lips parted slightly.
"No."
The word escaped almost unconsciously, so soft that I nearly missed it.
Her eyes never left my face. I could practically see the thoughts racing through her mind as she searched desperately for another explanation. She examined every feature, every expression, every detail she could find, as though convinced that if she looked closely enough she would discover the mistake.
The resemblance was obvious, but the conclusion that resemblance pointed toward was simply too impossible to accept all at once.
"No..."
This time the word sounded different. It sounded like someone standing at the edge of a dream, terrified that even the slightest movement might wake them.
Beside her, Julius remained completely silent.
He wasn’t looking at me the way a warrior assessed an unknown Saint. He wasn’t studying my cultivation or trying to gauge my strength. His gaze moved slowly across my face, lingering on features I hadn’t even realized I had inherited from him. Every passing second seemed to reveal another piece of familiarity, another memory buried beneath years of separation.
I knew exactly what he was seeing.
Not the boy he remembered.
That boy was gone.
The years had changed me too much for that.
Instead, he was trying to reconcile two impossible images. The son he had lost and the man standing before him now were clearly the same person, yet his mind refused to accept how both things could be true at once.
Eventually he spoke.
"Billion?"
Hearing my name from his mouth after all these years felt strangely unreal.
There was uncertainty in his voice, but not because he doubted what he was seeing. It was the uncertainty of a man afraid to believe. Afraid that if he allowed himself to hope, the illusion might disappear and leave him standing in the ruins of that hope once again.
I felt a smile form despite the tightness in my chest.
"Yeah."
Neither of them moved.
The silence that followed seemed to settle over the entire battlefield. Around us, hundreds of people watched without understanding what was happening, but I barely noticed them anymore. The world had narrowed to a single moment and three people standing inside it.
Then I noticed the tears.
At first it was only a faint shimmer in my mother’s eyes. She didn’t seem aware of it herself. Years of hardship had taught her how to remain composed under pressure, and that instinct still held strong even now. But emotions accumulated over years had a way of ignoring discipline.
A tear slipped free.
Then another.
She blinked as though confused by the sensation and slowly lifted a hand toward her face. For a brief moment she simply stared at the moisture on her fingertips, unable to fully process what was happening.
I had never seen her like this. I had seen her angry, determined, exhausted and victorious.
But I had never seen her look fragile.
And somehow that hurt more than anything else. Something inside me cracked.
"Mom..."
The word seemed to break the last fragile barrier she had been holding together.
Her hand rose to cover her mouth as her eyes filled completely. For several seconds she simply stared at me, and the emotions crossing her face changed so quickly that I couldn’t follow all of them.
Shock gave way to disbelief. Disbelief gave way to hope. Then hope was suddenly drowned beneath something far more painful.
Understanding.
"Oh, Billion..."
Her voice cracked. The sound alone was enough to make my chest tighten.
I knew that look. I knew exactly what conclusion she had reached. To her, there was only one explanation for my presence in the Null Realm.
I was dead.
The realization hit me immediately. Of course that was what she believed.
How could she think anything else?
The Null Realm was where souls arrived after death. She had spent years here. From her perspective, seeing me standing before her didn’t mean I had found a way to reach them.
It meant I had died.
And judging by the anguish suddenly appearing in her eyes, she wasn’t thinking about miracles or reunions.
She was thinking about everything I had lost.
"You shouldn’t be here," she whispered.
A tear finally escaped and drifted through the water between us.
"You were supposed to live."
Beside her, Julius still hadn’t moved.
His jaw was clenched tightly enough that I could see the muscles shifting beneath the skin. For a long moment he simply stared at me before finally speaking.
"When?"
The question was barely audible.
I looked toward him.
His eyes were moist now as well.
"When did it happen?"
The fact that he even had to ask felt like a knife twisting in my chest.
Neither of them were celebrating. Neither of them were relieved.
They were mourning me. Mourning a death that had never happened.
My mother shook her head weakly.
"You were supposed to have a life. You were supposed to grow up."
A broken laugh escaped her.
"You were supposed to become old and stubborn."
Despite everything, I felt a smile trying to form. That sounded suspiciously specific.
Her shoulders trembled.
"And now you’re here."
The guilt in her voice was unbearable. As though my presence somehow represented a failure on their part. As though they believed they had abandoned me.
As though every year they had spent wondering what kind of man I would become had suddenly ended with the worst possible answer.
Before either of them could spiral any further, I took a step forward.
"Mom."
Neither of them seemed to hear me. I took another step.
Then another.
Finally I stood directly in front of her.
She looked up. Then she reached out. Her fingers touched my cheek as though she was afraid I might disappear.
The contact seemed to shatter whatever composure remained.
Her hand began trembling.
Her eyes searched my face desperately, tracing features she hadn’t seen in years while trying to reconcile the child she remembered with the man standing before her.
Then she grabbed my face with both hands. As though physical contact might somehow prove that I was real.
And then she pulled me into a hug. The force behind it caught me completely off guard.
I felt her shaking. Felt the tears soaking into my shoulder.
Felt the way she held onto me with a desperation that spoke of years of grief, years of longing, and years spent wondering what had become of the son she had left behind.
For a moment, I simply stood there. Then my own vision blurred.
And I realized I was crying too.