“Cough, cough.”
A thick, earthy stench aggressively invaded his nostrils, making Xu Lingguang cough uncontrollably. He struggled to sit up, slapping his aching chest, only to be shocked to find himself wearing a strange purple robe.
The wide sleeves of the purple robe hung loosely from his arms, swaying as he moved. It was soaked and heavy, reeking of a foul, fishy odor.
Xu Lingguang stared blankly at the odd garment, then let his gaze wander around. It was only then that he realized he was sitting in a dilapidated coffin half-buried in dirt. His already sluggish brain promptly decided to shut down.
He slapped his face hard, trying to wake himself up—just minutes ago, he had been drinking and complaining with friends.
For the past two months, he had worked tirelessly on a project, waking up earlier than roosters and sleeping later than dogs, practically living at the office. He had groveled and begged, all to ensure the project was completed on time. His boss had promised him a fifty percent bonus upon completion. But after he had pushed himself to the limit to finish it, his boss never mentioned the bonus again. When Xu Lingguang asked about it, his boss said young people should focus on the long term, that the bonus was less important than future prospects, and then dangled another empty promise. Xu Lingguang was sick of these empty promises and angrily resigned.
After completing the resignation formalities, feeling down, he went drinking with a friend.
He had drunk quite a bit, complaining to his friend that working like a beast for such meager pay was worse than returning to his hometown to farm. After that, he remembered nothing.
Had his friend taken him home drunk, and was he now dreaming?
It must be a dream.
With a dazed expression, Xu Lingguang swayed as he tried to climb out of the coffin. But as soon as he moved, he felt a wrenching pain in his internal organs, as if they had been shredded and pieced back together. The pain was so intense that he curled into a ball uncontrollably, hissing through gritted teeth.
This sharp, real pain didn’t feel like a dream.
Could dreams hurt this much?
Xu Lingguang took a moment to recover, dizzy and disoriented, before laboriously sitting up again. Carefully supporting himself on the edge of the coffin, he climbed out. Thankfully, the heart-wrenching pain didn’t return. Xu Lingguang sighed in relief and looked around.
On three sides, there was nothing but wilderness. The coffin he had just been lying in was casually tossed into a shallow pit, with the lid thrown onto a loose pile of dirt nearby, as if the burial had been left half-finished.
But it was a good thing it was unfinished—otherwise, he might not have been able to climb out.
Xu Lingguang patted his chest, still shaken, and surveyed his surroundings.
The grave pit seemed hastily chosen, with no other graves or tombstones nearby. To the east, beyond the pit, lay rolling mountain ranges. To the north, a cluster of ancient buildings was nestled among the shadows of trees.
They looked like the ancient structures from TV dramas—octagonal eaves, layered pavilions, and stacked halls.
After a moment’s hesitation, Xu Lingguang dragged his heavy body slowly toward the buildings.
As he drew closer, he noticed a massive stone tablet standing before the entrance of the complex. On it, three large characters were inscribed in bold, elegant strokes: “Qingyu Sect.”
Xu Lingguang stood beneath the stone tablet, staring blankly at the unfamiliar structure before him. Finally, belatedly, he realized that everything felt too real—so real that it didn’t seem like a dream at all.
Had he crossed over?
Xu Lingguang was reluctant to admit this possibility. Clinging to a faint hope, he craned his neck to peer through the gates of Qingyu Sect, wondering if this might just be some prank or reality show with elaborate costumes.
Just as he was peering around, an eerie hissing sound suddenly reached his ears, accompanied by a cold breath spraying against the back of his neck, as if something had swiftly brushed past him.
Xu Lingguang hunched his shoulders and clumsily turned around. His bewildered eyes met a pair of dark red, vertical pupils.
The crimson vertical pupils stared fixedly at him, the slender, cold eyes filled with wariness and scrutiny. But Xu Lingguang had no time to analyze any of this. His entire attention was consumed by the enormous black serpent before him—
It was a serpent nearly three meters tall, its waist thicker than Xu Lingguang’s own. Its tail, of unknown length, stretched far into the distance, while its body arched high, its head lowered in an extremely aggressive posture. It loomed over Xu Lingguang, its scarlet tongue flickering in and out, emitting a chilling hiss.
Xu Lingguang’s eyes slowly widened.
Then he fainted.
Song Nanchu: ?
He stared expressionlessly at the person collapsed on the ground, then let out a disdainful snort. His serpent tail coiled around the figure and roughly dragged him into Qingyu Sect.
His body was too massive. As he sped into the sect, his tail inadvertently swept against the eaves, sending tiles and debris flying in all directions.
A young man who had been napping under the eaves was startled awake. Enraged, he swung his sword at the serpent tail, his voice cold. “Song Nanchu, what madness are you up to now?”
Song Nanchu deftly dodged the young man’s sword, his tail rising high and swaying slightly. “Take a look at who this is.” Perhaps because his true form was a serpent, his voice carried a cold, slippery quality. “Our dear master, dead for half a month, has crawled right out of his coffin.”
The young man paused mid-swing, frowning as he sheathed his sword. He floated closer, examining the youth coiled in the serpent’s tail. The other was unconscious, his features lacking their usual sinister edge, but even if he were burned to ashes, the young man would recognize him—this was indeed his dear uncle and master, Xu Lingguang, the sect leader of Qingyu Sect.
He gritted his teeth and let out a cold laugh. “Truly, the wicked live a thousand years.”
He glanced at Song Nanchu again. “Where did you catch him?”
Their dear master was cunning and treacherous, cautious and fiercely protective of his own life. The three of them had schemed for a long time before finally finding the opportunity to personally send him off to his funeral.
Who would have thought Xu Lingguang’s life force was so tenacious? With his organs shattered and his soul scattered, he still managed to crawl out of his coffin. If Song Nanchu hadn’t captured him and he had truly escaped, the consequences would have been endless.
Song Nanchu replied expressionlessly, “Caught him at the mountain gate. He fainted as soon as he saw me.” He shook Xu Lingguang a few times, a hint of confusion in his tone. “The way he looked… it seemed more like he was scared into fainting.”
The young man wore an equally incredulous expression. He crossed his arms, his eyes shifting thoughtfully. “Could he be trying to trick us?”
Song Nanchu shook his head. “I don’t know. Let’s lock him up first and plan carefully.”
Seeing Song Nanchu coil Xu Lingguang and head deeper into the sect, the young man rubbed the hilt of his sword, a look of keen interest on his face. He called out to Song Nanchu from a distance, “I’ll go inform Yu Jun.”
Yu Jun was practicing her cultivation.
After receiving Zhou Fuying’s message, she unhurriedly washed her hands, adjusted her hairpins and ornaments in the mirror, and only then pushed the door open to step outside.
Her figure was slender and graceful, a pale green flowing fairy dress wrapping around her thin frame, cinching her waist into a delicate curve. As she walked beneath the eaves in the wind, she resembled a tender willow branch trembling in the spring breeze, exuding a fragile beauty that evoked pity.
Zhou Fuying, however, had long seen through this facade of a beautiful skeleton. His gaze swept past her, looking toward the open door behind her. Beside the embroidered bed draped with green curtains lay two emaciated corpses, nothing but skin and bones.
Noticing his gaze, Yu Jun waved her hand, and two stiff-moving puppets entered the room to carry the bodies away for disposal.
“What brings you here, Junior Brother?” Since Zhou Fuying remained silent, Yu Jun took the initiative to ask.
Her voice was like a willow in spring—light and soft, with a melodious tone that seemed to curl and brush against one’s heart like a willow branch.
Zhou Fuying got straight to the point: “Xu Lingguang isn’t dead.”
Yu Jun’s expression shifted. Her eyes, usually misty with sorrow, now held a cold, contemplative gleam. She shook her head and said, “Impossible. I personally checked at the time to ensure he was completely dead before handling the body.”
Eldest Brother Song Nanchu paid no mind to such matters, and Junior Brother Zhou Fuying was too arrogant and unruly to care. After confirming Xu Lingguang’s death, both of them lazily left his corpse lying at the mountain gate, bloodied and exposed to heavy rain for a full day and night.
Back then, it was Yu Jun who found the sight too unsightly and had puppets retrieve Xu Lingguang’s body for burial.
Yu Jun asked, “Where is he now?”
Zhou Fuying shrugged, a slow smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “He fainted and was captured by Eldest Brother. He’s probably locked up in Fushengjin.”
The name Fushengjin sounded poetic, but in reality, it was a magical artifact Xu Lingguang used to imprison and torture people. It appeared as nothing more than a fist-sized piece of jade, yet its interior held a separate realm capable of creating intricate illusions to trap and torment its victims.
A faint smile also appeared on Yu Jun’s lips. “What a fitting place for him. Let’s go take a look.”
Xu Lingguang had a nightmare. In it, he was chased by a massive black serpent for miles. Just when he thought he had escaped and was safe, he realized he was standing on the serpent’s body. The icy touch of the snake’s scales startled him awake, gasping for breath.
Someone handed him a cup of water. Xu Lingguang took it and gulped it down before remembering to say, “Thank you.”
But the smile that had just begun to form on his face froze when he saw the three exceptionally handsome youths dressed in ancient-style clothing standing before him.
All three pairs of eyes were fixed on him. Xu Lingguang blinked slowly, recalling the enormous black serpent he had seen before losing consciousness. Reluctantly, he had to accept the reality that he was no longer in his original world. Cautiously, he ventured, “Did you save me? What happened to the black serpent?”
Song Nanchu’s smile immediately took on a meaningful depth. Yu Jun and Zhou Fuying exchanged a glance. Naturally, Yu Jun stepped forward, leaning down with apparent concern to look at Xu Lingguang. “Master, don’t you remember us anymore?”
She reached out to touch Xu Lingguang’s forehead. “Could it be you injured your head?”
She stood too close, her beauty too striking. Xu Lingguang had never been this close to a girl before and felt somewhat uncomfortable, taking a step back as his face flushed slightly. He racked his brains, stammering as he followed her lead: “Y-yes, my head does seem to hurt a bit… Ever since I crawled out of the coffin, I’ve forgotten a lot of things…”
Yu Jun and Song Nanchu exchanged a glance. Without showing any change in expression, she reached out to check his meridians while feigning sorrow: “Some time ago, enemies came looking for trouble. Master was fatally wounded by them and passed away. The rest of us were also severely injured. Disciples in the sect either died or fled. We thought the Qingyu Sect had fallen apart, but… but… Thankfully, Master is still alive.”
As she spoke, her eyes reddened, and she turned her face away, softly sobbing.
Xu Lingguang opened his mouth but didn’t know how to comfort her. He could only look to the other two for help, but they also turned their heads away, appearing deeply grieved.
At a loss, Xu Lingguang glanced around and finally spotted a handkerchief by the bedside. He quickly picked it up and handed it to Yu Jun: “D-don’t cry.” He scratched his head, speaking somewhat guiltily: “At least I’m lucky to be alive…” Then, in an even quieter voice, he added: “Even though I don’t remember anything.”
Yu Jun wiped her tears with the handkerchief, her sorrow turning into a smile: “Yes, Master really is… lucky.”
Xu Lingguang could only mumble in agreement, cautiously trying to extract some information from their words.
According to Yu Jun, his current body was originally the sect leader of the Qingyu Sect, with three disciples: the eldest, Song Nanchu; the second, Yu Jun; and the youngest, Zhou Fuying. About half a month ago, Xu Lingguang’s enemies attacked the Qingyu Sect, and Xu Lingguang’s internal organs were shattered, leading to his death.
Seeing their sect leader dead and the sect leaderless, the disciples fled for their lives. Only the three disciples, unwilling to leave their home, stayed behind.
Xu Lingguang felt a pang of sorrow. No wonder he had felt as if his internal organs were being torn apart earlier—it wasn’t an illusion; they really were shattered.
Others who transmigrated either got powerful allies or cheat abilities, but when it came to him, he ended up as the leader of a dilapidated minor sect. Not only were enemies everywhere, but he was also severely injured, and he had no idea how much longer he could live.
Xu Lingguang sighed, and his head, which hadn’t been hurting before, began to ache.
Perhaps noticing his gloomy expression, Yu Jun comforted him: “Master, don’t worry. Although those enemies are still guarding the foot of the mountain, they were also severely injured that day while trying to seize the treasure. They won’t dare to come up the mountain easily for a while.”
Xu Lingguang: “…”
His head ached even more. He pulled the blanket over his head, his voice muffled through the fabric: “Then let’s not go down the mountain for now. All of you, stay safe too.”
Yu Jun stared at the blanket with an inscrutable expression, her voice gentle as she said, “Alright.” “Then Master should rest first. We won’t disturb you any longer.”
After leaving Fushengjin, the three of them wore different expressions.
Yu Jun spoke first: “I checked his meridians. His internal organs are indeed shattered, his meridians are reversed, and he has lost all his cultivation.”
Logically, he should have died long ago, yet he somehow came back to life. No matter how you looked at it, it was strange.
“Do you think his memory loss is real or an act?” Zhou Fuying’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Before, we were afraid he might retaliate, so we had to finish him off quickly. This time, whether it’s real or fake, we can have some fun with him.”
Song Nanchu nodded in agreement, his serpent tail slapping the ground irritably, yet his face wore an exceedingly gentle smile. He suggested, “How about we release the person from Fushengjin?”
Yu Jun frowned. “That old fox has plenty of tricks up his sleeve. If we release them recklessly and he seizes the chance to counterattack…”
Zhou Fuying stroked his sword and raised an eyebrow. “Are you scared?”
Yu Jun smiled softly. “If you all want to go mad, I can’t be bothered to join in. But if it’s about killing Xu Lingguang again, I’m interested.” She toyed with a pair of exquisite golden bells in her hand and glanced at Zhou Fuying. “Last time, I was a step too slow. This time, I won’t be.”
This time, she would skin Xu Lingguang alive to make a puppet.