Chapter One: Please Call Me Wu Yue

The gleaming floor reflected the lights overhead—so white it stung the eyes. It was already late at night, which only made the place feel more desolate. The empty corridor was faintly tinged with the smell of medicine. A young man stood there, perfectly motionless. His eyes were unusually bright, as if expecting something. His face was expressionless, and only when occasional screams echoed down the hall did he reveal a strange smile.

He muttered to himself, “I wonder which poor soul has gotten a taste of the electric shock again. Sigh. I’ve heard that housing prices outside keep rising. Is it a bit of a waste for me to be living alone on an entire floor like this?”

Suddenly.

Swish. In the blink of an eye, the lights shattered, and darkness swallowed the entire floor.

The young man was startled. He instinctively shook his head. “I really don’t like the dark,” he said, fumbling his way back toward his room.

“Sir, could you do me a favor?” A light, airy voice resonated in the darkness, sounding oddly eerie.

The young man seemed to smile. “What kind of favor?” he replied. At least someone was talking to me, he thought—never mind whether they’re still human or not.

“Help me dig out my remains. They’re inside the wall… I was just a young woman, barely twenty, yet I fell victim to a villainous man…”

“I can do that. But you’ll need to get me some tools. A hammer at the very least, explosives if you have them. And I’ll need some light, I can’t see clearly. Lastly, make sure nobody else comes here—I don’t want people thinking I’ve gotten even crazier.”

The voice seemed stunned into silence. After a long pause, it spoke again. “Actually, it’s not that complicated… I can teach you a spell. Just use your blood to draw it on the wall…”

“No,” the young man replied, brisk and unwavering.

“Why not?”

“I just thought of a saying: nobody gets up early without a reason. Isn’t that how the world is now?”

The voice sighed. “I know you’re a good man. But I’m only a wandering ghost—what reward could I possibly offer… Unless, sir, you don’t mind, I have a younger sister, beautiful as a flower, and in the prime of her youth…” Her tone at the end became sultry, dripping with temptation.

“Selling out your own sister? That makes you hard to trust. Why not just keep me company here?” The young man’s face was radiant and cheerful.

A heavy tension filled the air. The voice said nothing more. The young man mocked himself; it seemed no one wanted anything to do with him.

“But I simply refuse to die,” he said softly, but with absolute determination.

There was a sound like water dripping, exploding across the floor.

“Look, my blood is dripping at your feet, my head is gazing at you, my hands, my feet…” The voice became shrill with agony.

“My eyes are closed, and besides, there’s no light…” the young man responded immediately.

Boom!

…

A serious fire broke out last night at the city’s largest psychiatric rehabilitation center. The cause of the fire is still under investigation. The number of casualties is currently being counted…

…

A dim stone hall. In its center stood a massive statue of a god, cold and indifferent, with a pair of wings folded behind its back.

Beneath the statue knelt a youth, apparently blindfolded, with a white cloth wrapped around his eyes. He kowtowed again and again, muttering under his breath, his face streaked with blood and dust, contorted in a ghastly display.

No one could say how long it went on. The youth’s consciousness seemed to blur. Suddenly, a third eye on the statue’s forehead blazed with light, striking the youth and sending him silently collapsing to the floor. Moments later, the statue trembled, cracks spreading across its form, and a gray, translucent mass drifted out, finally settling upon the youth.

Beep. Language system matched successfully…

Yue Ziqing—or perhaps now Wu Yue—slowly crawled up. There was a softness beneath his hand—he must be on a bed. The wind howled outside; he could hear it, so he must be above ground. His eyes could see only a faint light, and they ached.

“Young master! At last you’re awake. If you hadn’t, how would this old servant go on? The Yue family is no more—we cannot live as we please any longer…” An old voice, yet still strong, rang out.

“All right.” Though he did not yet understand what had happened, Wu Yue replied reflexively.

“Good, good, good. Young master, you must rest well, and never again worship those evil gods and demons. With your outstanding talent, as long as you cultivate diligently, you’ll be able to kill that little beast one day! Extract his soul and refine his bones, and avenge our Yue clan!” The old man’s words, though his face was unseen, carried a chilling undertone that made Wu Yue’s heart skip a beat.

“Since we have nothing better to do, why don’t you tell me the whole story of our enmity with him again, from the very beginning, without leaving out a single word. I want to analyze it carefully.” Wu Yue rubbed his temples, feigning deep thought, though inwardly he felt helpless. He could be sure he'd transmigrated—but now found himself with none of his predecessor’s memories.

The old man did not question this and began to recount, “It all started fifty years ago, when the old patriarch was still alive…” The story was long, but fortunately, both were patient.

“In the future, young master, never do anything foolish again. Once we weather this storm, we’ll go to Shangyuan Sect and ask your cousin for help… We will avenge the patriarch! That little beast will pay for his blood debts in blood!”

Wu Yue exhaled deeply and, after a pause, said, “Yue Ziqing is dead. The Yue family is gone. From now on, my name is Wu Yue.”

“Young master, I’m relieved you have such resolve. I only fear you might try something foolish again…” Hearing the old man interpret his words this way, Wu Yue relaxed. This was good—otherwise, explanations would be too troublesome. After all, how could he explain that their young master Yue Ziqing was gone, replaced by a transmigrator who wanted a new name?

“As for my eyes…” Wu Yue deliberately paused. He hadn’t heard anything in the story about his eyes. Suddenly, a voice sounded in his ear, “Young master, please bear with it for now—times are different.” The words were transmitted directly to his mind. Wu Yue nodded slightly to show he understood.

“All right. You may go now. I’d like some time alone.” Wu Yue waved his hand. The old servant quickly replied, “Then, young master, please rest well. I’ll withdraw for now. Call for me if you need anything.” With that, he quietly left.

It was a long time before Wu Yue finally stood up. He paced a few steps, calming himself, and let out a long breath.

He, an earthling, had transmigrated! Though things weren’t going well at the moment, it was still better than his previous life.

Bed number seven—no more medicine. Wu Yue smiled.

As for his current predicament, it was simple: Yue Ziqing’s father, back when he was a young master, had a dispute with an ordinary cultivator. Relying on his family’s power, he nearly took the man’s life. Who would have thought, fifty years later, that ordinary cultivator, named Chen Jishan, would rise up in startling fashion—founding the Heavenly Spirit Sect and quickly gaining fame. His cultivation soared to unimaginable heights. Thus began a tale of revenge—however deep the old grudge, the outcome was clear: the Yue family was uprooted, left in utter ruin. In the end, the only survivors were Yue Ziqing, heir to the family, and an old servant, who barely escaped after untold hardships.

Now, they lived in a remote mountain village in the southern Nanqun Mountains, both to evade Chen Jishan's pursuers and to seek one of the treasures the Yue family had once hidden there—a secret base from years past. After so long, and under these circumstances, it was at least a temporary refuge for Yue Ziqing, or rather, Wu Yue. But the lure of the treasure was strong, and that was one reason they lingered.

Their current goal was to lay low, obtain the treasure, and then head to the Central Continent to seek out a powerful relative in the renowned Shangyuan Sect… and then take revenge. Wu Yue could already guess the outcome. Obviously, his relative would be annihilated!

It was a familiar pattern! His rival, Chen Jishan, was clearly the protagonist—an average cultivator who offended a noble house, was suppressed, then returned to settle old scores… And his own role? To bring even greater enemies to the protagonist, advancing the plot…

Wu Yue touched the cloth over his eyes, feeling nothing but melancholy. As for the “blood feud” old Yue Jiu had described, Wu Yue was sympathetic—truly, he was. But sympathy was all he could offer.

It’s hard to hate a stranger. Since I’ve come to this world, there must be a way back, so my real goal is to return to Earth.

Wu Yue smiled—there was genuine happiness, but even more murderous resolve. How could long-standing hatred not be repaid? But for now, the most important thing was to survive. Only by living on could he pursue his true ambition.