Great Xia Divine Capital, the back alley of Rongguo Mansion.
The night was deep and heavy.
A biting cold wind howled, scraping bone like a knife.
Deep in the alley stood a dilapidated little hut.
Its doors and windows were broken, wind whistling through from all sides, and inside it was so dark you couldn't see your own hand in front of your face.
Jia Rui huddled in the corner, both hands tucked into his sleeves, his face so gloomy it looked about to drip water.
Just moments ago, he had finally figured out his situation.
He had transmigrated.
And worse, he had transmigrated into 《Dream of the Red Chamber》 as that lecherous, spineless, and most absurdly dead unlucky wretch.
Jia Rui.
What was even more fatal was that right now was the very night Wang Xifeng set her poisonous trap of longing.
The original body had lusted after Wang Xifeng's beauty, and had been bewitched body and soul by a few feigned words of tenderness from that Fiery Phoenix.
He had actually believed she was willing to meet him in secret, and had eagerly hurried to this back alley of Rongguo Mansion.
Little did he know, Wang Xifeng had long since ordered the night-watch old maids to lock the front and back alley gates.
Before dawn, no one would open them.
Both sides of the alley were lined with blue-brick walls over two zhang tall.
The brick seams were tight and neat, with not even a spot to gain leverage and climb.
With the original body's frail, scholarly frame, forget climbing the wall—he'd have trouble even jumping high enough to touch the top.
Now he was trapped here, a turtle in a jar.
According to the original plot.
In another quarter of an hour, Ningguo Mansion's legitimate grandson Jia Rong would arrive on Wang Xifeng's orders to deal with him.
First, he would pretend to catch them in an illicit affair, forcing him to write an IOU for a hundred taels of silver.
Then he would call a servant boy to bring a bucket of night soil and douse him from head to toe.
The cold wind biting to the bone, frozen and stinking all at once.
The original body was driven to a severe illness, his essence and blood withering away.
In the end, facing a Wind and Moon Mirror, he jerked himself to death.
A grown man of seven chi, to die so pathetically.
"Since I've been transmigrated here, I absolutely cannot die that pathetically again."
Jia Rui slowly raised his head, a trace of ruthlessness surfacing in his eyes.
"I will defy heaven and change my fate!"
The words had barely left his mouth.
When in the darkness before his eyes, several lines of pale golden text suddenly appeared.
【The Gifted Martial Arts System has been activated.】
【Complete special events, influence or change the karmic fortune of this world, and you will have the chance to obtain martial arts, cultivation, and special rewards.】
【Initial gifted technique: Taizu Long Fist, Yellow Grade Middle Rank, Perfection Realm.】
【Current martial arts cultivation: Post-Heaven First Grade.】
Jia Rui was stunned.
Before he could even think it over, a scalding hot current suddenly surged up from deep within his Dantian.
At first the hot current was no more than a trickle, but in an instant it transformed into a surging warm tide, rapidly pouring through his Meridians into every limb and bone.
His hands and feet, previously frozen stiff and numb, instantly regained feeling.
Immediately after, his sinews and bones sang in unison, his qi and blood churned.
It was as if a blazing furnace had been ignited within his body with a roar.
"Crack!"
A faint sound only he could perceive came from deep within his lower abdomen.
Some blocked acupoint was forcibly broken open.
A thread of warm Inner Breath welled out, settling in his Dantian.
Though it could not yet be called mighty, it was dense and pure, circulating without cease.
At the same time, countless fist techniques and methods of channeling force flooded into his mind.
Bow stance, thrust fist.
Feet together, double embrace.
Scout emerges.
Twisted stance, single whip.
Seven Stars Pressing Life.
Double Scoop Sealing Heaven.
……
Each move and each stance seemed not to have been learned just now.
But rather to have been bitterly practiced for over a decade, deeply carved into his sinews, bones, and flesh.
Jia Rui slowly rose and swung out a punch.
Midway through the punch, the strength of shoulder, elbow, wrist, waist, and hips connected layer by layer, the force flowing round and unified.
Though it was only an ordinary straight punch, the fist's edge carried a low, deep whistle of splitting wind.
Joy immediately appeared in Jia Rui's eyes.
"Perfection Realm Taizu Long Fist."
"Post-Heaven First Grade Inner Breath."
"At last, there's a thread of hope."
He searched through the original body's chaotic memories, and quickly discovered.
Though this world used Dream of the Red Chamber characters as its skeleton, it was far more than poetry, boudoirs, and noble houses.
Beyond the Imperial Court, there was also the jianghu.
Martial artists began their cultivation from Post-Heaven, then advanced to Innate, then Grandmaster.
The strong could split stone and shatter monuments, leap across eaves and run along walls, even take a general's head amid thousands of troops.
In the past, the two Dukes of Ning and Rong were both martial arts powerhouses who swept across battlefields and trampled the jianghu.
It was precisely by virtue of their illustrious martial prowess that the Jia Family earned these two Duke's Mansions and a century of wealth.
Unfortunately, passed down to the present, each generation was worse than the last.
These lords in the mansion had long since thrown away the martial arts that their ancestors had built their standing on.
Aside from dallying with flowers and willows, cockfighting and dog-racing, all that remained was a handsome shell.
Jia Rui clenched his fist, feeling the unprecedented power within his body.
The pent-up frustration in his chest likewise transformed into sharp killing intent.
"This original body of mine may be lecherous and shameless, and truly no good thing."
"But you, Wang Xifeng, set a trap to harm others, and Jia Rong willingly serves as your claw—neither of you can be counted as virtuous either."
"Now that you've fallen into my hands, don't blame me for being ruthless."
Just as he was pondering, a faint sound of footsteps suddenly came from outside the alley.
Ta.
Ta.
Neither hurried nor slow, approaching this abandoned hut.
Jia Rui's eyes sharpened, and he immediately stilled his breathing, slipping to hide beside the door.
Before long, a figure draped in a hooded cloak turned past the alley entrance.
The newcomer deliberately pulled the cloak down very low, covering most of his face.
If one caught only a hurried glimpse in the dimness, he really did look somewhat like a woman walking at night.
But by the faint moonlight leaking in from beyond the wall, Jia Rui recognized him at a glance.
It was none other than Ningguo Mansion's legitimate grandson, Jia Rong.
Tonight, Jia Rong had come on Wang Xifeng's orders to deal with Jia Rui.
Every step had long been arranged.
He was secretly pleased with himself for being able to run an errand for Sister Feng.
From afar he saw a figure flash in the abandoned hut.
He thought Jia Rui, that starving ghost of lust, couldn't hold back and was rushing to pounce on "Sister Feng."
Jia Rong sneered inwardly.
"This broken-down wastrel really has lust addling his wits."
"Second Uncle Lian drills outside all day, often neglecting Second Aunt Lian—no wonder this fool dares to harbor such delusional hopes."
Thinking of Wang Xifeng's flirtatious looks—her powdered face holding spring, her plump, full waist.
Jia Rong's heart couldn't help but heat up too.
Though he called her "Second Aunt Lian" to her face, in secret he had long harbored no small amount of filthy thoughts toward Wang Xifeng.
He only thought that if tonight's errand was done beautifully, tomorrow he could go before Sister Feng to curry favor and claim credit.
Then he'd surely be able to get closer again, and have a good rub against Sister Feng's fragrant, alluring body with its perky rear and broad hips.
Just as Jia Rong was lost in fantasy, the black shadow before his eyes suddenly loomed larger.
A foul wind rushed straight at his face.
His heart skipped, and just as he was about to retreat, he made out Jia Rui's face.
Where was there any trace of eager, fawning lust?
Those eyes were terrifyingly cold in the night, and between his brows seeped a killing intent that made one's blood run cold.
"Not good!"
Every hair on Jia Rong's body stood on end.
But he had long been steeped in wine and lust, his body already hollowed out—how could he have time to react.
Only a low shout was heard.
"Die!"
Jia Rui stepped forward half a pace, his spine like a bow, his right fist like an arrow.
The Perfection Realm Taizu Long Fist circulated in perfect harmony.
The strength of waist, hips, shoulders, elbows, and wrist bones twisted into a single force.
The fist's edge struck true, dead center on Jia Rong's lower abdomen.
"Bang!"
A dull, heavy crash suddenly exploded in the narrow alley.
This punch carried Post-Heaven Inner Breath, its force no less than several hundred catties.
Jia Rong's entire face contorted in an instant, feeling as if his lower abdomen had been smashed by an iron hammer, his five viscera and six bowels churning together.
His body was actually sent flying off the ground by this punch, crashing backward several zhang.
"Thud!"
His back slammed heavily against the blue-brick wall.
Dust cascaded down from the wall's surface.
Jia Rong then slid down along the wall, collapsing to sit on the ground.
He opened his mouth, and a great mouthful of fresh blood mixed with shattered organs gushed out.
The light in his eyes rapidly dimmed.
Even at this moment, he still couldn't believe it.
The always cowardly, wretched Jia Rui, who let anyone trample him, had actually dared to strike him a fatal blow.
He was Ningguo Mansion's legitimate grandson.
The only son of Jia Clan Patriarch Jia Zhen.
How dared this broken-down wastrel?
How dared he kill him?
In his hazy, drifting daze, the last thing that surfaced in Jia Rong's mind.
Was not his parents, nor the glory and wealth of Ningguo Mansion.
But rather his own wife Qin Keqing's face, as alluring as peach and plum, so flirtatious and graceful.
"Keqing……"
"I never even got to deflower her……"
Before the thought finished, his head lolled limply to one side, and he made no further sound.
At the same time, footsteps came again from the alley entrance.
A Ningguo Mansion servant boy came around the wall corner, cheerfully carrying a full bucket of night soil.
According to the original arrangement, Jia Rong would first pretend to catch them in an illicit affair, force Jia Rui to write an IOU for a hundred taels, then coax him into shrinking into the corner to hide.
Then this servant boy would pour the night soil down over his head.
In the freezing dead of winter, soaked through and covered in filth.
Not only would he be half-frozen to death, but his face and dignity would be trampled into the mud.
Such humiliation was indeed vicious.
But the servant boy had barely turned the corner when he saw Jia Rong slumped crookedly by the wall.
Chest and abdomen caved in, blood all around his mouth.
His eyes instantly went wide, his face ashen.
"Young Master Rong……"
Before the last word could leave his mouth.
Jia Rui had already stepped forward to stand before him.
Taizu Long Fist, charging straight ahead!
The fist's edge broke through the cold wind, carrying a low, moaning hum.
"Bang!"
The servant boy's chest suddenly caved in.
The night soil bucket flew from his hands, crashing several paces away, sewage splattering everywhere.
He didn't even have time to scream before he collapsed limply to the ground.
Killed in a single blow.
The cold wind swept through the alley.
The smell of blood mixed with the stench of night soil slowly spread.
Jia Rui stood between the two corpses, his chest rising and falling slightly.
The humiliation, resentment, and fear that the original body had long suppressed seemed to pour out entirely with these two punches.
But after a moment, as the night wind poured into his collar, his fevered mind gradually cooled.
Looking down at Jia Rong on the ground, Jia Rui couldn't help but frown.
"Too impulsive."
However much of a scoundrel Jia Rong was, he was still the only son of Jia Zhen, Family Head of Ningguo Mansion and Jia Clan Patriarch.
And the legitimate son of the Imperial Court's third-rank General of Mighty Valor.
While he, Jia Rui, was merely a declining branch among the Jia Family's eight branches in the capital.
His parents had died early, and the family had no surplus wealth.
Now he only depended on his grandfather Jia Dairu for mutual support.
He scraped by as an assistant instructor at the Clan School, without even a proper official rank.
Killing Jia Rong was equivalent to poking a hole in the sky.
If the matter came to light, he would surely not escape death.
"How to dispose of the bodies?"
"And the alley gates are already locked tight—I can't even get out."
"Could it be that just after reversing a dead end, I'm about to die at Ningguo Mansion's hands again?"
Just as Jia Rui was at a loss, a soft, clear voice suddenly came from above his head.
"Your punch was decisive, without the slightest hesitation."
"The fist technique is ordinary, but your mastery of it is already round and unimpeded, hard and soft following the heart."
"What's even more rare is this ruthlessness."
"Among the Jia Family's younger generation, there's actually someone like you—this commander is rather surprised."
The voice was not loud, yet it fell clearly into his ears.
Every hair on Jia Rui's body instantly stood on end, and he jerked his head up.
He saw that atop the blue-brick wall over two zhang tall, a slender figure had at some point come to stand.
The cold moon was behind him.
Outlining that person's robe with exceptional clarity.
The figure was tall and slender, wearing a pure white brocade Flying Fish Robe embroidered with cloud patterns.
Over it, a great cloak of four-clawed golden python, and on his head a Purple Jade Flying Apsara Crown.
The night wind billowed, the cloak snapping and curling.
That person's face was handsome to the point of eeriness, skin cold and white, features exquisite, thin lips curved in a faint smile.
Yet his eyes were deep and dark as a cold pool.
With just a light downward sweep, it was as if an invisible pressure shrouded the entire alley.
As if those two lives on the ground were merely ants crushed underfoot, not worth another glance.
Jia Rui was greatly alarmed.
He had just killed two men, and his spirit was at its most alert.
Yet when this person had come to the wall top, he had not sensed it in the slightest.
If the other party meant to kill him, he probably wouldn't even have had the chance to throw a punch.
Jia Rui retreated half a step, secretly circulating his Inner Breath.
He asked in a low voice: "Who are you?"
The person on the wall looked down at him, the smile at the corner of his lips growing even more cold and faint.
"Western Depot."
"Yu Huatian."
……