The Supreme Immortal’s Return To Earth

Seventy-Two Hours

The hospital released Adrian the next morning.

Elena had wanted him to stay longer. The doctors had wanted him to stay longer. But Adrian had insisted—calmly, politely, with a certainty that made further argument feel pointless—that he was fine.

He was not fine. His body still ached in ways he was not accustomed to. His senses were still muted, his perception of the world reduced to the ordinary five senses plus a faint, barely-there awareness of something deeper. He could not sense spiritual energy. He could not feel the principles of reality. He could barely access the power that had once been as natural to him as breathing.

But he was not dying. And he had wasted enough time in that hospital bed.

Elena drove him home in a car that had seen better days. The engine made a sound it probably should not make. The seats were worn. The air conditioning did not work.

Adrian watched the city pass by through the window. Ashford City was a sprawling metropolis of concrete and glass and millions of people who had no idea that the supernatural world existed. He saw buses and taxis and people walking dogs and children walking to school. Ordinary. Mundane. A world without cultivation, without spiritual energy, without the constant struggle for transcendence that had defined his entire existence.

It was, he decided, remarkably peaceful.

“You’re quiet,” Elena said.

Adrian turned to her. She was watching the road, but her attention was clearly on him. “I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

About the fracture. About the Presence. About the fact that I have been dropped into a world I do not understand, in a body that is not mine, with a family that loves a son who no longer exists.

“Nothing important,” he said.

Elena did not look convinced. But she did not press.

The Vale family home was a small house on a quiet street. The paint was peeling. The front step was cracked. The lawn had been mowed recently—by Daniel, Adrian’s memories supplied, before he had given up on maintaining appearances.

Elena parked in the driveway. “We’re here.”

Adrian stepped out of the car. The air smelled of exhaust and cut grass and something cooking from a neighbor’s kitchen. He stood on the sidewalk for a moment, looking at the house that was now his home.

It was not much. It was nothing compared to the palaces he had built across three continents. It was nothing compared to the sects he had founded, the empires he had shaped, the legacies he had left behind.

But it was where they lived. Elena. Daniel. Sophia.

His family.

He followed Elena inside.

Daniel Vale was sitting at the kitchen table.

Adrian knew him from the original’s memories—a large man, broad-shouldered, with hands that had worked hard for decades. He had been strong once. Proud. The kind of man who built something from nothing and stood behind it.

Now he looked smaller. Diminished. His shoulders were hunched, his eyes red from lack of sleep, his hands wrapped around a piece of paper that he had been staring at for what looked like hours.

He looked up when Adrian entered.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Daniel stood. He crossed the kitchen in three quick strides and pulled Adrian into an embrace. It was not gentle—Daniel was not a gentle man—but it was fierce. Desperate. The hug of a father who had almost lost his son.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Daniel said, his voice rough. “You hear me? Don’t ever do that again.”

Adrian did not know how to respond. He had been embraced by Elena—that had been confusing enough. But Daniel’s embrace was different. It was not just relief. It was guilt. Daniel believed he had failed his son. He believed the beating Adrian had taken was his fault.

The original Adrian had known this. The memories made it clear. Daniel had spent years trying to protect his family, and he had failed, and he knew it.

“I won’t,” Adrian said.

Daniel pulled back. He looked at Adrian—really looked at him—and something flickered in his eyes. Confusion. Uncertainty. As though he was seeing something he did not quite recognize.

“You look different,” Daniel said.

Adrian did not respond.

“Not your face. Your face is the same. But—” Daniel shook his head. “I don’t know. You just look different.”

“It’s the hospital food,” Adrian said.

Daniel stared at him. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed. It was a short, rough sound, more surprise than amusement, but it was a laugh.

“Smartass,” Daniel said. “You get that from your mother.”

Elena, standing in the doorway, smiled.

The kitchen was small and cluttered. Bills stacked on the counter. A calendar on the wall with dates circled in red. A refrigerator covered in magnets and old photographs—Adrian, younger, smiling. Sophia, younger, scowling. Daniel and Elena, younger, happy.

Adrian looked at the photographs. The original Adrian had been happy once. The family had been happy once.

Now they were not.

Daniel sat back down at the table. Elena busied herself making tea. Adrian stood by the window, watching the street.

“We need to talk about what happens now,” Daniel said.

Adrian turned. “About what?”

“About the debt. About the house. About—” Daniel’s jaw tightened. “About the people who did this to you.”

“You know who they are?”

Daniel hesitated. “I know who they work for. A man named Marcus Voss. He owns a debt collection company. Legitimate on paper. But everyone knows he’s connected.” He paused. “He wants this house. He’s been trying to get it for months.”

“Why?”

Daniel looked away. “Because I owe him money. A lot of it. When my business collapsed, I borrowed from the wrong people. I didn’t have a choice.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “I’ve tried to negotiate. I’ve tried to pay. But he doesn’t want money. He wants the house. He wants us out.”

Adrian considered this. “Why does he want the house?”

“I don’t know. He hasn’t said.” Daniel’s voice was bitter. “Maybe he wants to develop the land. Maybe he has plans for the neighborhood. All I know is that he’s been pressuring us for months, and it’s been getting worse, and now—” He stopped. Swallowed. “Now he’s threatening your sister.”