The comments said I was deeply affectionate, I just added points by using an alternate account.

Chen Guan's eyes finally moved slightly.

He removed his hand from the body's chest, and the revived heart in his palm was still beating gently.

That boundless vitality, enough to bring withered trees back to life, now seemed like a silent mockery in his palm.

Chen Guan lowered his head, looking at the white sphere that was still diligently shining. His lips twitched, but he couldn't manage a smile.

He clenched his fingers, and the light spilled out from between them, stinging his eyes.

A few seconds later, he raised his hand and waved away the obstructive notification.

He changed his position, leaned closer, and moved the ball of light away from his chest, placing it on his temple.

He didn't believe in superstitions; he figured there was no harm in trying.

The ball of light beneath his fingertip seemed to sense his intention, and its light burst forth once more.

hum.

A dazzling white light engulfed the entire room, blurring the outlines of the walls, and even Leopard subconsciously narrowed his golden vertical pupils.

The light transformed into a torrent, flowing down his fingertips and once again washing over the silent body.

Chen Guan's heart skipped a beat.

effective.

His gaze was fixed on that face, trying to catch the slightest change in the tightly closed eyelids or the bloodless lips.

Even just the trembling of an eyelash.

The white light lasted for a full ten seconds before it seemed to have exhausted its strength and reluctantly began to fade away.

The light went from glaring to soft, and then from soft to dim.

The room's furnishings reappeared in the darkness.

The person in the coffin is still lying there.

Nothing happened.

Chen Guan's arm felt heavy. He moved his hand away, and the warmth of the light sphere remained, but it couldn't reach him.

He remained silent and then moved to another seat.

This time, he placed the Heart of Resurrection between his eyebrows.

He covered it with his other hand, trying to use his mental power as a guide.

The light came on.

Gone was the overwhelming force it had before; now it was just a soft glow, like a lantern swaying precariously in the wind.

The light lingered between his palm and his brow, hesitating, unable to find a way in.

Finally, those points of light merely circled the skin's surface reluctantly before lazily retreating back into the sphere.

Chen Guan's hand froze in mid-air.

He stared at his empty palm, then looked at the still-glowing sphere.

He reached out his hand one last time.

The initial eagerness and the midway anticipation were gone from his actions; only a stubborn determination to explore every possibility remained.

He pressed the heart of restoration back into the heart of the original body.

The original location.

This time, the billions of points of light on the surface of the sphere simply flowed and disappeared on their own.

No light emerged.

There wasn't even the slightest fluctuation in energy.

The divine object containing the power of creation lay quietly in his palm, touching his skin, yet it felt as if an insurmountable world separated them.

It recognized that this was not the river it was meant to flow through.

Chen Guan's hand remained pressed there, motionless.

The room was so quiet that only the leopard's careful breathing could be heard.

"Host, to put it simply, your body is a perfectly good house, but you've lost the key somewhere you can't find it. The Heart of Rejuvenation can repair the house, but it can't repair the key."

Tongzi couldn't bear to see Chen Guan like this, so he gave a metaphor, subtly advising him to give up.

"Keep saving money, boss. We're just 500,000 short."

Chen Guan withdrew his hand, ignoring Tongzi's words, and raised the hope of revival before him.

The white orb of light was still pulsating in his palm, radiating a reassuring vitality.

He reached his hand to the side.

The leopard immediately understood, came closer, and carefully opened its mouth.

Chen Guan didn't look at it; he simply put the ball of light back into its mouth.

The little guy caught the ball of light in his mouth, and his mouth was instantly illuminated.

It obediently put the ball of light back in its mouth without making a sound, only looking at its master with worry through its golden vertical pupils.

Chen Guan sat down next to the coffin.

His body slid down the smooth wooden wall until the back of his head hit the cold edge of the coffin with a soft thud.

He looked up, staring at the monotonous white ceiling, without saying a word.

……

Deep within the Kunlun Mountains, nestled among snow-capped peaks, lies a coordinate that does not exist on any map.

A building embedded inside the mountain, its entrance perfectly concealed by dense primeval forest and ever-present mist.

hum.

After a dull hum of mechanical operation, the half-meter-thick alloy gate slid open to one side.

San Tai squeezed in through the crack in the door, still carrying the chill of the mountains.

She casually spat the lollipop, now only a plastic stick in her mouth, into the trash can by the door.

Clang.

The small plastic stick struck a pile of identical colorful candy wrappers, making a crisp echo.

The bucket was already half full, filled with all sorts of colors, all of which she had thrown away.

San Tai seemed a little disgusted. People come and go here all the time, doesn't anyone ever think about throwing away their trash?

Forget it, she'll have to throw it away herself.

The alloy door closed silently behind her.

Behind the door was a long corridor that seemed to stretch on forever, with pure white walls and ceiling.

Every ten meters there is an LED light tube, casting a cold light that illuminates the entire passage as bright as day.

A cold smell, a mixture of disinfectant and metal, entered my nose.

San Tai's leather boots clicked rhythmically on the smooth, mirror-like floor. She walked for about five minutes down the long corridor before finally stopping in front of a wooden door.

The door is old-fashioned, made of walnut wood, which clashes with the surrounding high-tech feel.

The door was ajar, and a warm yellow light shone through the crack, dispelling the chill of the corridor.

San Tai didn't knock; he pushed the door open and went straight in.

This is a huge study.

The four walls are filled with bookshelves that reach the ceiling, crammed with books of all kinds of thickness, from yellowed thread-bound ancient books to modern hardcover books, all mixed together, yet strangely not appearing messy.

A huge old-fashioned desk sits in the center of the room, with a green banker's desk lamp on it casting a small, warm glow.

A man sat behind a desk. He was not tall and was mostly hidden in the shadow of the high-backed chair. Only his well-defined hands were visible as he held a thread-bound ancient book.

He seemed completely absorbed in the book, so much so that the sound of three people pushing open the door didn't distract him.

San Tai's nonchalant expression faded slightly. She threw herself heavily into the single sofa opposite the desk, the soft leather groaning under its weight—the only sound in this deathly silent space.

She crossed her legs, swinging one leg idly.

The man behind the desk finally made a move.

His long, slender fingers turned a thin page of the book, the sound of which was frighteningly clear in the silence.

"I'm back."