Outside the bedroom door, the soft, familiar rustle of his mother’s robes brushed against the polished wooden floorboards.
She was right there.
He hesitated, a cold knot tightening in his chest.
The moment he let out that first scream, the gears of his grand plan would grind into motion, opening a rift between himself and his family that might never truly heal.
They would look at him differently, pity him, maybe even fear the shadow hanging over him.
But as he hardened his gaze into the dark room, the doubt evaporated.
A fractured family was a living family.
If breaking their hearts now kept them from being lined up against a wall or slaughtered in a royal purge later, he’d burn every bridge he had to.
He drew a sharp breath and let out a blood-curdling, terrified shout.
Beside him, Xu Xia jolted upright with a gasped curse, her hair a tangled mess as she scrambled against the sheets.
Before she could even ask what was happening, the heavy oak doors burst open.
Their mother rushed in, her face pale under the soft moonlight, her aura flaring with instinctual protection.
“What happened?!” she gasped, lunging toward the bed.
“Are you hurt?!” He sat there, trembling violently, his eyes staring blankly at the foot of the bed.
He said nothing.
He didn’t even look at them.
With a shuddering breath, he pulled the heavy quilt over his shoulders, turned his back to the room, and closed his eyes, pretending to force himself back to sleep.
“Sweetheart…” His mother’s voice trembled with a rare, fragile worry.
She reached out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Are you alright?
Please, speak to me.” He remained rigid, burying his face deeper into the pillow, refusing to offer a single word.
Xu Xia looked over at their mother, her eyes wide with a mixture of helplessness and growing dread.
They had seen him brash, unhinged, and ridiculous, but this silent, shattered shell was entirely wrong.
With a heavy, collective sigh, neither woman left.
Xu Xia slipped back under the covers, clutching the edge of his blanket, while their mother gently lay down on the other side, wrapping a protective arm over them both.
Throughout the night, the bed was never still.
He made sure of it—growling softly in his throat, tossing violently, kicking at phantom attackers in his sleep, playing the part of a deeply traumatized child to perfection.
Near dawn, he snapped upright with another choked gasp.
Instantly, his mother’s arms folded around him, pulling his trembling frame tightly against her chest.
“Tell me,” she whispered softly into his hair, her voice thick with restrained emotion.
“Please, tell me what happened out there.
You don’t have to bear all of this by yourself.
I’m your mother.” He pulled away slightly, curling his knees tightly against his chest.
He stayed silent for a long, heavy moment, letting the stillness stretch until it felt unbearable.
“I was scared,” he finally muttered, his voice cracking with calculated precision.
“I thought…
I thought I was going to die.
They kept chasing us non-stop.
Every time I thought I was safe, I felt like they were right behind me…” His mother tightened her grip, listening intently.
“I met another kid while running,” he continued, staring at his drawn-up knees.
“Ji Juechen.
He was being hunted too, so we stuck together…
He helped me mix in with the commoners so I wouldn’t stand out.
He told me if I had gold, he knew a place that would keep us safe.” He swallowed hard, letting a shudder ripple through his shoulders.
“He took me to a brothel.
He said as long as we paid, we’d be hidden inside.
Nobody would look for us in a place like that…” You wanted to know my suffering?
Fine.
Let’s see how much of it you can handle.
His body began to shake more violently, his breath catching in ragged hitches.
“What happened?” his mother asked, her tone dropping into a deadly, panicked quiet as her mind immediately raced to the absolute worst possibilities.
“What did they do to you?” “In that place…” He pulled his knees tighter, his voice dropping to a hollow whisper.
“I saw things I shouldn’t have.
I saw…
women.
And spirit beasts.” He stopped there, offering not a single detail more.
His mother froze solid.
The air in the room seemed to plummet in temperature.
As a noble, she was far from ignorant of the sick, twisted depravities hidden in the deepest, darkest underbelly of the empire’s pleasure houses—the kind of vile filth the high court turned a blind eye to.
The thought of her young son witnessing such absolute filth while hiding for his life struck her like a physical blow.
She sat paralyzed, completely at a loss for how to comfort a child bearing that kind of psychological stain.
She couldn’t fix it.
She couldn’t undo it.
All she could do was pull him back into her arms, holding him fiercely as if to shield him from the memory itself.
“It’s over,” she choked out, resting her chin on his head.
“It’s over now.
Everything is going to be alright.” Buried against her shoulder, hidden from her sight, his face remained entirely stoic.
Hopefully, Ji Juechen actually sticks to the script I gave him, he thought dryly, mentally crossing his fingers.
It’s going to be a complete disaster if that wooden block decides to yolo and blurt out the truth just to satisfy his noble sword-god honor.
The morning light eventually crept through the window blinds, painting warm golden streaks across the floor.
Long after his mother and sister had left the room with heavy hearts, he sat cross-legged on his bed, still wide awake.
He let the ambient energy of the room swirl softly through his limbs before settling into his chest.
Opening his eyes, he checked his internal status.
“Rank 17…
not bad,” he muttered to himself, running a quick mental audit of his progress.
He let out a long sigh, feeling that familiar, heavy sensation behind his eyes.
“God, I hate pulling all-nighter sessions.
RIP my sleep schedule.” A small, amused chuckle escaped his lips.
Some things never changed.
Even transmigrating into a world filled with martial spirits, soul tools, and royal politics couldn’t cure his worst bad gamer habits.
Right on cue, a quiet bird chirp sounded from the window sill.
He turned his head toward the window.
“I know.” A second later, faint footsteps echoed down the hallway, stopping right outside his door.
A gentle, hesitant knocking followed.
“Xuandong?” Xu Xia’s voice came through the thick wood, soft and laced with cautious concern.
“I…
I just wanted to check on you.
Are you doing okay?” He didn’t move from his bed.
“I’m fine.
I just want to be alone right now.” “I can come in for a minute…” “Leave me alone, Xu Xia,” he interrupted, dropping his tone into a flat, distant coldness.
Silence settled over the hallway.
She stayed standing outside his door for a long, heavy few minutes, her hesitation practically bleeding through the wood.
“…If you need anything, you can always come see me,” she finally whispered.
He didn’t answer.
He just stared silently at the door frame until the quiet rustle of her skirts signaled she was walking away.
Once her footsteps completely faded, his shoulders slumped.
“Sorry…” he muttered into the empty room, his fingers clenching into a tight, white-knuckled fist.
He fell backward onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.
“Hopefully, Old Ye finds something useful out there…” Reaching under his pillow, he summoned his Steam Deck.
The sleek handheld device materialized in his hands, its screen glowing softly in the dim light.
He stared down at it, taking a moment to sigh again.
Now that he had reached Level 4, his Soul Power consumption was slightly more manageable, but the reality was still brutal: he could only run the Deck for about five minutes before completely draining his reserves.
“I need to grind my cultivation level ASAP,” he muttered, adjusting his grip on the handles.
The silver lining was that reaching Level 4 had significantly boosted his passive draw.
His efficiency in gathering ambient Soul Power had reached a whole new height, pulling in energy at a pace that far outstripped his old, sluggish baseline.
But passive gains weren’t going to be enough for what he had planned.
He needed to reshape the foundation of the Sun Moon Empire’s entire meta.
If he was going to overhaul the empire’s systematic cultivation system, he had to tackle two massive bottlenecks.
First was the cultivation serum.
The issue with the serum wasn’t that the empire banned it or didn’t use it—in fact, the exact opposite was happening.
Everyone was way too dependent on it.
Young spirit masters were so desperate to rush their rank progression and advance in soul engineering as fast as possible that they just kept taking dose after dose back-to-back.
They didn’t even leave time for their bodies to properly digest and assimilate the medical power in it.
It was just like prescription medicine back on Earth: the serum itself wasn’t inherently evil, but chaining doses without letting the medicinal properties settle turned their foundations to absolute garbage.
What the empire needed wasn’t blind reliance, but strict regulations and enforced recovery periods.
Second was the soul engineering system itself.
In its current state, the profession was wildly inefficient and absurdly time-consuming.
Looking ten thousand years into the future, the term “soul engineer” didn’t even exist in the same way—the whole discipline eventually split into specialized, hyper-focused roles like mecha designer, mecha maker, and mecha repairman.
Right now?
The Sun Moon Empire was forcing every single soul engineer to be a jack-of-all-trades.
One person was expected to draft the blueprints, forge the alloys, array the core circuits, and maintain the final product.
It was a massive bottleneck on progress.
Decoupling those responsibilities into an actual assembly line and distinct professions was the only way the empire’s tech tree was ever going to scale properly.
He set the Steam Deck down on his chest, closing his eyes as his mind drifted back to yesterday’s chaos.
Looking back, his absurd luck had carried him through the mess.
The exact moment he’d gotten lost in the city, he had practically tripped over Long Ban.
When they first met, he had handed the guy a thousand gold coins without blinking—not out of generosity, but because he genuinely assumed Long Ban was part of an established gang or syndicate he could leverage to build underworld connections.
Turns out, the guy was just a low-life, bottom-feeding scammer with zero real power and no high-level intel.
Still, it hadn’t been a total loss.
Long Ban at least knew the basic gang geography of the slums, which proved crucial for navigating the back alleys without accidentally wandering into a death trap.
Mingdu City’s underground was divided among three major factions: The Common Alliance: They controlled the city’s sex industry and brothels.
Easily the shallowest and most short-sighted of the three underground powers.
The Alto Chamber of Commerce: They ran the assassins’ and thieves’ associations, backed various evil forces, and made their fortune through extortion, murder, and theft.
The Duskwater Alliance: The most advanced and dangerous outfit.
They held a monopoly on high-margin contraband like illegal arms, unregulated drugs, and human trafficking—and were secretly backed by Evil Spirit Masters.
Knowing Long Ban’s rough map had allowed him to completely bypass Alto Chamber and Duskwater alliance territory’s, avoiding their web of professional hitmen and thieves.
Even with those precautions, a few random lookouts had clearly been searching for him in the lower districts.
Fortunately, they were so weak and undisciplined that they couldn’t locate him, letting him slip through the cracks completely unscathed.
He opened his eyes, staring back up at the wooden ceiling beams.
The foundation was laid.
The sob story was set.
The structural flaws of the empire were mapped out in his head.
Now, all he had to do was survive the fallout.The afternoon sun filtered through the intricate silk curtains of the chamber, casting long, lazy shadows across the floor.
Xu Xuandong stretched his arms above his head, letting out a loud, drawn-out yawn that nearly jaw-dislocated him.
“Ah…
another day, another shift,” he muttered, rubbing his heavy eyelids.
He looked out the window at the blazing sunlight and sighed, shaking his head.
“Man, I’m practically living like a vampire at this point.
Sun goes up, I go down.” Without bothering to change out of his robes, he collapsed onto the soft duvet and let darkness swallow him whole.
His mind drifted into a deep sleep, but peace was nowhere to be found.
In the chaotic void of his consciousness, a surreal scene erupted.
Two massive, primordial trees towered over the heavens—one radiating a brilliant, holy golden light, the other shimmering with a mysterious, deep silver-blue glow.
They clashed violently, their massive roots and branches tearing through space itself like two god-like entities locked in eternal war.
Just as the dazzling collision reached its peak, the sky split open.
A colossal, star-crushing hammer fell from the high heavens, bringing with it a pressure so suffocating it felt like it would obliterate Xu Xuandong’s soul into fine dust!
“Holy shit!” Xu Xuandong bolted upright, his heart hammering against his ribs like a frantic drum.
Cold sweat soaked his back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Xuandong?
Are you alright?” A soft, anxious voice cut through his panic.
He turned his head sharply and saw a small, porcelain-like face hovering near his bed.
It was his younger sister, Xu Xi.
Xu Xuandong took a deep breath, forcing his racing pulse to settle, and gave a dry nod.
“Yeah…
just a bad dream.” He rubbed his face and looked toward the window, noticing the sky had bruised into a deep purple.
“What time is it?” “It’s almost dusk,” Xu Xi said, her big eyes searching his pale face.
He blinked, leaning back against the headboard.
“What are you doing in my room?” “You didn’t come out for lunch!” Xu Xi puffed her cheeks slightly, though her voice carried genuine concern.
“You haven’t spoken to anyone since you got back.
I…
I got worried, so I came to check on you.” Looking at her earnest, worried expression, a gentle warmth bloomed in Xu Xuandong’s chest.
The icy terror of the nightmare melted away.
This family…
no matter how crazy they are, they actually care about me, he thought.
I swear, with everything I’ve got, I’m going to protect them .
He stayed silent, letting the warmth settle, but internally, his meta-gamer soul was already writhing in agony.
Gods above, how do those edgy, emo web novel MCs keep up this tortured-soul act 24/7?
Xu Xuandong screamed in his head, his cheeks burning with sheer second-hand embarrassment at his own internal melodrama.
‘I swear to protect this family with my life’…
ugh, I feel so cringe!
Someone kill me now!
Before he could cringe himself into a fine powder, Xu Xi grabbed his arm and began tugging him out of bed with surprising strength for her size.
“Come on!
Everyone is worried about you.
We need to go to the dining hall for dinner right now!” Reluctantly dragged along by his blustering little sister, Xu Xuandong made his way down the grand hallways of the imperial estate.
When they entered the imperial dining hall, the atmosphere instantly shifted.
The ambient chatter hushed, and a dozen pairs of eyes locked onto him, filled with heavy, suffocating worry.
His mother was the first to speak, her eyes tender and overly cautious.
“Xuandong…
son, are you feeling alright?” Xu Xuandong simply gave a quiet, somber nod, playing the part of the traumatized prince returning from the dark underworld.
The family immediately began making small talk, tiptoeing around him, trying their absolute best to cheer him up without pushing too hard.
“Servant,” Xu Xuandong called out flatly, raising a hand.
“Bring me a flagon of wine.” His mother’s brow furrowed, and she gently intervened.
“Xuandong, you are far too young to be drinking heavy wine.” Xu Xuandong paused, letting out a hollow, bitter laugh that sounded straight out of a tragedy play.
“Too young?
Mother, I was too young to be hunted like a rabbit in the slums, yet here we are.” The entire dining hall went dead silent.
His mother froze, her face turning pale as if she had been slapped.
Noticing the heavy tension, Xu Xuandong rubbed his temples and feigned an apologetic sigh.
“I’m sorry…
I shouldn’t have said that.
I just…
I need a drink.
Out there in the dark, it was only cheap liquor and trashy women that kept safe.
I..I need it..please.” Hearing her brother talk about cheap liquor and brothels with such dead, empty eyes broke the hearts of everyone present.
Suddenly, his eldest sister, Xu Mie’er, stepped forward.
The usually fierce and hot-tempered genius softened her expression completely, her eyes brimming with a rare, motherly warmth and gentle sisterly love.
“Xuandong,” Mie’er said softly, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.
“You don’t have to carry all that bitterness anymore.
Look at us.
We are your family.
We will always be by your side to protect you.
No matter what happens, no matter what you’ve been through, you will always be an indispensable part of us.” Xu Xuandong involuntarily shivered.
Oh man, this is brutal, he screamed internally.
I can’t take this heavy emotional damage anymore!
It’s too hard to keep acting like an emo dark lord!
Tears actually began to well up in his eyes—not because he was putting on a masterclass performance, but because he felt genuinely helpless and weak!
He was on the absolute brink of a mental breakdown from the sheer emotional weight of the room.
How the hell am I supposed to keep acting like a tragic victim?
It’s too damn exhausting!
Then, like a lightning bolt striking his Steam Deck-brained mind, it suddenly clicked.
Wait a minute…
why the hell am I forcing myself to act?!
If I suddenly revert back to my normal, shameless self out of nowhere, they’ll think something is deeply wrong with my head.
But wait—THAT’s THE ENTIRE POINT!
I’m SUPPOSED to make them think I’m not right in the head!
A sinister, brilliant spark flashed deep within his tear-filled eyes.
The tragic actor was dead; the chaotic jester was back online.
Xu Xuandong sniffled, wiped his tears, and turned to look at Xu Xi.
“Xi’er…
it’s been so long since I’ve played with you.
Why don’t you take your sisters…” He glanced at the other two of the triplet set.
“…and go wait for me in the playroom?
I’ll join you in a bit.” Xu Ying, one of the triplets, instantly crossed her arms and protested, “Hey!
Why do we have to leave first?
We want to—” “Go, girls,” their mother interjected gently, waving them off.
“Your brother needs a moment.” With the younger ones ushered away, Xu Xuandong slowly turned his gaze toward Xu Mie’er.
His teary eyes suddenly melted into an expression of profound, solemn respect.
“Big Sister Mie’er…” Xu Xuandong began, his voice dripping with utmost sincerity.
“After my painful experience surviving in the lowest slums, my respect for you has truly reached an all-time high.” Mie’er blinked, completely caught off guard.
Hearing her usually troublemaking younger brother voice such deep, heartfelt respect made her heart swell with pride.
Though a strange, creeping sense of intuition told her something was terribly wrong, she couldn’t help but let out a gentle, pleased smile.
“Is that so, Xuandong?
I’m glad you’ve matured…” “Yes,” Xu Xuandong continued earnestly.
“You see, in the brothels, I discovered that women seek comfort in both human men…
and soul beasts.” Mie’er’s smile stiffened slightly.
“What does that have to do with—” “I realized,” Xu Xuandong said, raising his voice heroically, “that even though you are the Illustrious Virtue Hall’s royal spinster who can’t get a boyfriend to save her life…
at least you aren’t desperate enough to do it with a Spirit Beast!” Mie’er’s smile completely vanished.
“Wait…” Xu Xuandong gasped, his eyes widening in exaggerated, horror-stricken realization as he stared at her hands.
“Don’t tell me…
Big Sister…
are you…
with a Soul Beast?!” The silence in the hall was deafening.
Xu Mie’er’s face went from pale, to red, to a terrifying, apocalyptic shade of dark purple.
The gentle sisterly love in her eyes vanished, replaced by pure, murderous rage!
CLICK!
CLICK!
CLICK!
In a fraction of a second, the spatial ring on her finger flashed frantically.
Before anyone could react, Mie’er whipped out a dozen Grade 2 Soul Tool cannons and heavy artillery barrels, locking them straight onto Xu Xuandong’s face!
“XU!
XUAN!
DONG!” Mie’er roared, her voice echoing like thunder through the palace.
“I WILL KILL YOU TODAY!” BOOM!
BOOM!
BOOM!
“HOLY SHIT!
SPARE ME!” Xu Xuandong shrieked, kicking off his chair and sprinting for his life toward the exit.
“DAMN IT, YOU VIOLENT WOMAN!
NO WONDER YOU’RE PERMANENTLY SINGLE!
YOU’RE GOING TO DIE A VIRGIN!” A barrage of soul tool beams blasted through the dining hall doors as Xu Xuandong dove behind a pillar, screaming in simulated terror while internally laughing his ass off.
The tense, suffocating melancholy that had hung over the dining hall instantly shattered.
Watching the young prince dodge explosive light beams while shouting absolute nonsense, several family members and attendants couldn’t help but burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter.
However, amidst the chaotic laughter and exploding soul tools, the Emperor and Empress stood near the head of the table.
They watched Xu Xuandong frantically running for his life, their eyes filled not with amusement, but with a deep, silent worry.