Chapter 1: Good and Evil Will Eventually Meet Their Reckoning

The mountain path was rugged, so he decisively abandoned his horse and followed the bloodstains along the road.

The prey was a limping blue sheep. It appeared briefly on the mountainside before vanishing into the dense jungle.

Sunlight could not penetrate the thick forest, leaving heavy shadows everywhere. Though it was high noon, the myrtle berries were still beaded with last night’s dew. The ground was carpeted with a variety of leaves, beneath which gnarled old roots lay tangled, ready to trip anyone at any moment.

Tracking in such an environment was difficult, but he still managed to find a few drops of fresh blood on the leaves and a small tuft of fur snagged on a tree trunk.

Yes, this was the right direction.

Blue sheep did indeed have a habit of climbing to higher ground when encountering an enemy.

He climbed upward rapidly, oblivious to the fact that in the shadows of the jungle thirty feet ahead, a pair of eyes was locked onto him.

Those eyes were filled with astonishing rage and hatred.

After scrambling over a large rock on the ridge, he saw the blue sheep again, head bowed, licking the wound on its leg. Just as he reached to take the bow and arrow from his back, his peripheral vision caught a shadow rushing toward him, moving with the speed of light.

That is...?

Before the thought could fully form, the object had already pounced on him.

It was a massive leopard, its size comparable to a tiger, its front paws larger than his head. Its fur looked as if it had been bleached, faded to the color of gravel.

The giant leopard opened its jaws, a foul, fishy stench washing over him. He instinctively raised his arm to shield his vitals. There was a sharp *crack*—his armored forearm was bitten clean through, and he couldn't tell if the bone had snapped. The force of the impact was so violent that he couldn't even keep his footing, and he tumbled straight down the ridge.

The leopard tangled with him, biting and tearing frantically. He couldn't help but scream, but that didn't stop his other hand from drawing a short blade from his waist and stabbing it into the beast a dozen times, creating a dozen bloody holes!

The weapon was sharp enough to cut through iron like mud. Not to mention the severe damage to the leopard’s internal organs, even the two stabs to its chest sent blood spraying, splashing all over his face and head.

Every living creature has an instinct for survival; even the most ferocious beast should have abandoned its enemy and fled by now.

But this one, for some reason, did not!

It dragged him along as it charged desperately outward, leaving a trail of blood in its wake.

He looked into the leopard’s blood-red eyes and realized it was insane.

A sand leopard had no business being here—where did this godforsaken thing come from? It even roared a sentence in human speech at him

"The Divine Bone shall never be yours!"

"Let go, let go, damn you!" He was terrified out of his wits, stabbing the leopard’s neck three more times, using every ounce of strength he had to break free.

There was no way to survive down there!

Yet, no matter how severe the injuries, they could not stop the leopard’s momentum. The next second, they both felt the ground vanish beneath them.

Man and leopard, locked in a struggle, plummeted into the hundred-foot abyss.

Even in its death throes, the leopard was still causing trouble, biting down on his neck.

With a soft *snap*, the protective pendant hanging around his neck burst with red light and shattered.

In that instant, the final frame frozen in his vision was four blood-stained fangs!

￥￥￥￥￥

"Ah—!"

He Lingchuan let out a loud cry and sat bolt upright, scaring the group of people around him half to death.

The maid closest to him retreated three steps in shock, while a plain-looking man appeared from nowhere, standing by his side and scanning the surroundings: "Young Master?"

Before him was an exquisite small hall. Two screens depicted strange mountains and beautiful waters, and in the center stood a stage. The performers on stage were dressed in full costume, while the audience below cracked melon seeds, sipped tea, and chatted—there were over two hundred of them, all looking up toward him now.

Right, he was in a second-floor private box. The scent of sweet pear incense burned in the corner; in the silver tray nearby, the grapes and melon were still beaded with water.

This was a theater called the "Zhai Xian Tai" (Plucking Immortal Terrace), not the edge of a hundred-foot cliff. He Lingchuan regained his senses and instinctively pressed his neck: "I'm fine."

There had originally been four deep puncture wounds there, only half an inch from his carotid artery, but they had already healed, replaced by tender, reddish new skin. He had at least a dozen such new scars all over his body.

A necklace still hung around his neck.

He remembered clearly that the circular jade pendant had shattered into eight pieces under the leopard’s immense strength. Somehow, after waking up, it was hanging perfectly intact around his neck again.

He didn't know when he had developed the habit, but whenever he was idle, he wanted to touch it, as if this object had some inexplicable connection to him.

There was another wealthy young master in the box named Liu Baobao. Seeing this, he snapped his fingers at the servant beside him. The latter immediately moved to the railing and sang out to the floor below: "The Young Master is awake, continue!"

The popular operas in the Yuan Kingdom were short and fast-paced, favoring novelty and surprise. They often dove straight into the theme without long, drawn-out singing, which was why young people liked them—they treated them like stories. Today, Zhai Xian Tai had prepared two new plays with famous actors headlining, but no sooner had the performance begun than Young Master He fell asleep. The following act was an intense martial arts scene, and Liu Baobao, fearing it would disturb his dream, had ordered a pause.

They had waited for nearly an hour, and the audience below was beginning to grumble, but fortunately, the guest of honor had finally woken up.

The sound of strings and bamboo flutes rose from below, and a clear, cool male voice sang: "It is said that the Golden Bull, the guardian beast released by the Xiluo Kingdom, was invincible—"

He Lingchuan frowned.

This play again?

He had fallen asleep listening to this very play, and now it was back?

Liu Baobao caught his expression and immediately smiled: "Brother Chuan doesn't like it?"

He Lingchuan said slowly: "It’s too bland."

In truth, this was a private session paid for by Liu Baobao; he was the one footing the bill, and he had personally selected the actors over two months ago. Zhai Xian Tai had spent a fortune to lure this entire troupe from the interior to the godforsaken Blackwater City.

But the master of the house was this sleepy-eyed man, who added: "Next time, change to a different theater. Don't call it 'Zhai Xian Tai.' Are immortals peaches that you can just pluck at will?"

Liu Baobao laughed: "This place was originally called 'Zhai Xing Tai' (Plucking Star Terrace), but the owner later thought 'Immortal' was better for business. People only name things after what they lack."

He Lingchuan squinted: "Oh, does Blackwater City lack immortals?"

"Not at all, not at all! Blackwater City has Lord He, that is enough!" Liu Baobao quickly said, "Immortals and such, those are just ethereal legends that only belong in storybooks. Who could possibly lack them?"

He quickly changed the subject: "Then shall we switch to Lord He’s 'Ding Dao Shan' (Setting the Blade Mountain)?"

"Fine." With his own father’s reputation being invoked, could He Lingchuan say no?

He leaned back, lying on the soft couch with his eyes half-closed. The middle-aged man waved away the surrounding attendants before asking in a low voice: "Those nightmares again?"

"Pfft." He sneered in denial: "No!"

"How is that possible!" He Lingchuan’s tone grew heavy, brooking no argument: "Uncle Hao, just watch the play."

It was an unnecessary remark, but it fit his personality. Uncle Hao, the middle-aged man, did not argue and stood silently to the side.

The famous actors were highly skilled, and the audience below cheered repeatedly. He Lingchuan watched for a while, then his gaze drifted to the curling smoke from the incense burner, and he found himself lost in thought again.

In truth, he was not He Lingchuan.

The real He Lingchuan was likely already gone.

He was just a nobody from another world, an inexplicable replacement.

His daily life had been at an unremarkable company, doing an unremarkable job, for an unremarkable salary. As a hot-blooded youth, he often felt dissatisfied, but no matter how impassioned or critical he was in private, he always had to maintain a peaceful, harmonious facade in front of others.

The beatings of society always manage to turn a person into the screw it wants.

It just so happened that during an economic downturn, his company had been three months behind on wages, but he couldn't just heroically declare, "I quit, go to hell," and walk away.

How did he get here?

It was hard to say. He only remembered wandering around the entrance of a restaurant two or three times that day, finally deciding to be kind and support the small stall at the street corner. After all, in the dead of winter, it was hard for anyone to make a living out in the cold.

"Boss, one order of jianbing, extra green onions, extra sauce... no egg or meat... yes, none of that."

The words had barely left his lips when he saw a car swerving toward a little girl on the side of the road. The driver panicked, and the car accelerated.

The tragedy was right before his eyes. Without thinking, he did the bravest thing he had ever done in his life

He lunged forward and scooped up the girl...

Did he think he was hit by the car? No, not at all.

He was completely unharmed. He returned the child to the couple who had rushed over, scolded the kid for a moment, telling her to "remember to watch the road" in the future, and then turned around.

He hadn't walked two steps when a flowerpot fell from the sky, hitting him squarely on the head with pinpoint accuracy.

And so, he was sent here.

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying in bed, his whole body aching. The room was antique, the people around him looked pleasantly surprised, and a handsome middle-aged man with tears in his eyes said with great emotion: "Lingchuan, you’re finally awake!"

He touched his head and discovered he had become He Lingchuan, the eldest son of He Chunhua, the Prefect of Qiansong County in the Jin Province of the Yuan Kingdom.

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(End of chapter)