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War Demon Emperor
墨書 Inktalez
Zhao Yang was an ordinary college graduate who had been out of school for two years. In those two years, he had switched jobs repeatedly, coming up with one idea after another to make a name for himself, but the shackles of fate and the harshness of reality had beaten him down to a pulp. He had lost the confidence that once belonged to him, becoming increasingly thin and anxious, living in a state of constant dread.
The poverty and discord in his family, the disdain from his first love, the betrayal of friends—everything he attempted ended in failure, failure, and more failure. Zhao Yang's self-esteem had crumbled to the point of despair, and one morning, he decided to end it all.
The morning chill pierced through his thin clothing as he stood on the bridge facing the crowd of onlookers who had gathered to witness his suicide. Fear crept into his heart; he didn't really want to die.
The spectators, initially intrigued, began to grow restless and then started blaming Zhao Yang.
"I say, if you're going to die, just do it already! Look at the time; you're making everyone late for work!" a middle-aged man dressed in a suit and wearing gold-rimmed glasses said impatiently as he glanced at his watch.
"Exactly! I came out early to buy groceries and now I've been standing here for almost an hour. Just jump already; I need to get home and cook!" shouted a slightly overweight woman with curly hair.
"How can you say that? This young man is having a hard time!" An elderly man riding a tricycle with his grandson scolded the crowd, which made Zhao Yang feel a flicker of warmth in his heart. It seemed there were still people who cared about him. Just as he was about to find a way to back down and express his newfound resolve, the old man continued, "This is just a spectacle for everyone else; he's sacrificing himself to send a message that not studying hard leads to this kind of end!"
After saying that, the old man turned seriously to the child sitting in the tricycle: "Do you understand, grandson?"
The child nodded vigorously like a chick pecking at rice and replied earnestly, "I understand, Grandpa! I will study hard every day so I won't end up like that uncle."
The old man nodded in satisfaction before turning back to Zhao Yang. "Jump already, young man; you'll be late soon."
Zhao Yang felt like he could sink into the ground out of embarrassment.
At that moment, someone in the crowd shouted loudly, "Jump!"
Several people around immediately raised their fists in agreement, and soon everyone was raising their fists together, chanting in unison: "Jump! Jump! Jump..."
Now unable to back away from the edge, Zhao Yang cast a furious glance at the crowd. Gritting his teeth, he jumped.
As he fell, Zhao Yang thought about taking one last look at the world—seeing the sunrise from the east and watching the rosy clouds illuminate him—but all he could see was the shadow of the bridge blocking his view. Instead, he noticed a pile of excrement floating right above where he was about to hit the water.
Splash!
Gag!
"Damn it, the water is too dirty." Zhao Yang cursed with a grimace. He had grown up in the countryside and was known among his peers as the best swimmer. This depth of water was nothing he couldn't handle.
He waded through the black, foul-smelling river and quickly swam to the shore, turning his back on those who were accusing him of being a coward as they fled in panic.
A passing reporter captured this scene, and that evening's news featured a story—"A young man jumps into a river to commit suicide but climbs back out due to the filthy water."
Zhao Yang let out a bitter laugh as he wandered aimlessly down the street, passing one bus stop after another, walking by the Youth Palace. He gazed at the bustling city and the decadent urban neon lights, reflecting on his miserable life. Suddenly, for reasons unknown, his heart stirred, and tears streamed down uncontrollably.
"Mommy, look! That big brother is crying so sadly," said a little girl of about seven or eight, holding her mother's hand as she passed by Zhao Yang, her big beautiful eyes wide with concern.
Zhao Yang wiped his tears and forced a pale smile for the little girl, wanting to leave her with a good impression. However, just then, an out-of-control truck came barreling toward the mother and daughter. For reasons he couldn't explain, Zhao Yang instinctively rushed forward and pushed them aside. The truck hit him and sent him flying several meters before he crashed to the ground. In that split second in mid-air, countless images of his struggles and tears flashed through his mind. He understood why he had been crying moments before; it was as if he were mourning himself.
As Zhao Yang lay on the brink of death, he heard a woman's scream and the little girl crying out, "Big brother, what happened? Big brother, wake up!" He struggled to open his eyes, but they felt too heavy. His mouth was filled with blood; he couldn't even utter a final word. He weakly tried to point in some direction but ultimately closed his eyes forever.
"Big brother, please wake up! You've been sleeping for so many days!"
In a daze, Zhao Yang heard the little girl's voice calling him again. He fought to open his eyes as a blinding light pierced his pupils. Then suddenly, with a gasp, Zhao Yang sat up. In front of him stood a petite and adorable girl with several patches on her clothes.
The little girl was startled by Zhao Yang's sudden movement but quickly ran outside joyfully shouting, "Daddy! Mommy! Big brother is awake! Big brother is awake!"
"Daddy? Mommy?" Zhao Yang shook his head in confusion. The girl's language seemed different from any he had heard on Earth yet was still clear as if he had always understood it. He propped himself up and surveyed the room filled with furniture and clutter before glancing at his own clothes. Uncertainly, he muttered to himself, "Could it be that I've crossed over?!"
At that moment, a man and woman burst into the room. The man appeared to be around forty years old with unkempt facial hair and a haggard expression. The woman looked to be in her thirties; though she was beautiful, her forehead was lined with wrinkles and her eyes glistened with tears.
"Zhao Yang! My son! You finally woke up! I was so worried about you; please don’t scare me like that again."
"Mom? What happened to me?" Zhao Yang struggled to recall anything but found his head buzzing with noise. He remembered everything that had happened on Earth—the tragedy of his past life: his parents' indifference and harshness, the ridicule from his first love, betrayal from brothers, targeting and oppression from teachers. As these memories flooded back, an inexplicable anger surged within him, accompanied by sharp pain piercing through his brain.
He remembered that he had crossed over while saving a mother and daughter, and the name of the person who had crossed over was also Zhao Yang. It seemed that this Zhao Yang fellow came from a poor family, even worse off than in his previous life. The excitement he initially felt quickly faded into despair. In his past life, he had been unable to pursue any interests due to his family's financial struggles. Although he had been at the top of his class, that was all he could achieve; he knew nothing else. Hiring a tutor for painting or music would cost hundreds or thousands, and he barely earned enough for living expenses by working odd jobs, often going hungry. Did this mean he would continue to suffer even after crossing over?
“Brother, you were beaten by those bad cousins from Uncle's family. When I grow up, I will cultivate just like you and defeat them all,” the little girl said, clenching her fists indignantly.
“Cultivation?” Zhao Yang's heart raced at this word. Had he crossed into a world where cultivation was possible?
Looking at her son lying on the bed with a dazed expression, the Middle-Aged Beautiful Woman sighed and said, “Zhao Yang, if you can't cultivate, then studying diligently is still a way out. If you become a high-ranking official in the court, even a cultivation family won't dare to bully you.”
“Mother, why can't I cultivate?”
Zhao Yang couldn't recall much yet; he only remembered that the owner of this body had been expelled from his family since childhood. The original owner was considered useless within the family and had been bullied by several cousins. His father was a rare case of someone from their cultivation family who couldn't refine Qi due to a blockage in his veins. He had only avoided being expelled because of his filial piety towards his grandfather, who was the head of the family. After his grandfather's death, several uncles drove them out of the family, cutting off all financial support. His father was an educated man who wanted to take the imperial examination but lacked funds for travel expenses. Seeing his mother toil day and night to support the family through embroidery made him give up studying and work as a laborer in a Rice Shop.
“You've been rendered incapable of cultivation by your cousins; it's best to stay home and study. Your father will support your education until you pass the examination,” his father finally spoke up after remaining silent, his eyes filled with bloodshot veins.
“Rendered incapable?” Zhao Yang had thought he could rise through hard work in this cultivation world, but hearing that his cultivation had been destroyed felt like a thunderclap in his mind. Was it really so tragic? Even after crossing over, was there no chance for him to rise?
“I told you not to participate in the family competition, but you insisted on going. Your stubbornness can't tolerate any humiliation; you were provoked into challenging them. They have consumed precious medicinal herbs since childhood and practiced secret cultivation techniques from our family classics. Even if you have an excellent memory, you only glanced at the first two pages of those texts; how could you possibly compete with them?”
With this reminder from his father, all memories flooded into Zhao Yang's mind at once. He groaned in pain as he held his head, recalling everything.
The owner of this body was named Zhao Yang and was only twelve years old. His father's name was Zhao Tianlang, his mother's name was He Qing, and his sister's name was Zhao Yu. The original owner had been rendered incapable because he participated in the Zhao Family's triannual martial arts competition. The Zhao Family stipulated that any family member over twelve could participate in this competition; those who performed well would receive rewards such as magical artifacts, talismans, elixirs, and silver.
Zhao Yang participated in the competition partly to prove himself superior to other family members. Even though he had only casually glanced at the Zhao Family's Cultivation Classics and memorized the first two pages of the techniques, he spent three years exploring cultivation methods on his own and managed to reach the third level of Qi Refinement Stage—though not considered a genius by any means, it was still rare in Zhao County. However, because of his arrogance and showcasing techniques from the family's classics, his uncles used it as an excuse to strip him of his cultivation abilities. Zhao Yang refused to accept this; despite being young, he had read extensively under his father's influence and could argue eloquently.
He remembered vividly that day when he debated with relatives connected by blood in the hall; their mocking faces were etched in his mind. No one treated him like a child that day—even he believed he was no longer one.
“No matter how reasonable your arguments are, stealing knowledge from our family's Cultivation Classics without permission warrants punishment by stripping your cultivation abilities! There are laws for nations and rules for families; otherwise, how can I justify it to our ancestors?” The tall man sitting at the head of the hall was Zhao Tianba, Zhao Yang's uncle and current head of the Zhao Family.
Hearing Zhao Tianba's words ignited fury within Zhao Yang: “Then may I ask what kind of rule allows our family of four to be expelled from the Zhao Family? Is it simply because my father lacks spiritual roots?”
Zhao Tianba roared back angrily at being rebutted by a child: “So what? This world is about survival of the fittest! Your father is useless; not only does he lack spiritual roots but also frequently stirs trouble between us brothers before your grandfather! Moreover, disregarding your grandfather's orders to marry a village woman has humiliated our Zhao Family! Your grandfather has been bedridden ever since due to anger! What use is there for such disloyalty and unfilial behavior?”
Zhao Yang was furious, his teeth clenched and his face flushed as he pointed at Zhao Tianba and shouted, "You are not allowed to insult my mother!"
"Hmph! What if I do?" At that moment, a fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy stepped forward, glaring with a fierce expression. "You should know your place. Given that you were once part of the Zhao Family, I allowed you to waste time here in hopes that you would realize your mistakes and repent. But today, even if several uncles and elders don't dispose of you, I won't let this disgrace of the family leave."
The speaker was none other than Zhao Tianba's eldest son, the current heir of the Zhao Family, Zhao Tenglong. He had long known that today, his father and the others intended to either kill or cripple Zhao Yang, who had once been the most favored grandson of their grandparents.
Seeing that his father did not refute him, Zhao Tenglong continued, "Please forgive me for being bold enough to make a decision. If this waste can withstand ten moves from me today, I will ask my father to let him leave peacefully. Otherwise, I will personally strip him of his cultivation." With that, Zhao Tenglong looked at Zhao Yang with pride.
At just fifteen years old, Zhao Tenglong had reached the eighth level of Qi Refinement Stage, making him the undisputed genius of the Zhao Family. In comparison, Zhao Tianba, the strongest head of the family, was only at the peak of the ninth level. To reach Foundation Establishment without any fortuitous encounters would take at least twenty years.
Zhao Tianba nodded and said, "My son's proposal is good; it gives this disgrace of our clan a chance. We cannot let outsiders say that the Zhao Family is ruthless and merciless." He then looked around at everyone present and saw no objections before waving his hand. "Let’s begin!"
Standing in the middle of everyone, Zhao Yang glared at each face with anger, his hands trembling. He knew he had no chance; he was at the third level of Qi Refinement while Zhao Tenglong was at the eighth level—the strongest among their generation. Although he had glimpsed a fragment of cultivation techniques that allowed him to reach the third level through relentless practice, it was still worlds apart from Zhao Tenglong. At that moment, Zhao Yang realized how reckless he had been; despite his extensive reading, he lacked life experience and was unaware of how treacherous human hearts could be. Though filled with fear of death and despair over losing his cultivation, he stared fiercely at everyone present without a hint of fear.
Tears streamed down his face as he recalled scenes from his childhood when he had been bullied and remembered how hard his parents worked for him. Now surrounded by relatives who were forcing him into a corner, he felt an overwhelming sense of unwillingness and resentment rising within him.
As he lay on the bed, Zhao Yang suddenly felt a twitch in his nostrils and finally understood why he had inexplicably cried before dying in his previous life.
In his memories, that version of Zhao Yang let out a desperate and powerless roar before raising both hands to strike at his heart meridian in front of everyone—committing suicide right there. It was at that moment that the previous Zhao Yang died in a car accident and crossed over into this life as Zhao Yang, preventing his physical body from dying immediately; however, he remained unconscious for two full months.
During those two months, his parents had tirelessly sought help both within and outside their family. They borrowed everything they could and consulted renowned doctors in the county but could not bring Zhao Yang back to consciousness.
His mother, He Qing, looked at her son who seemed lost again and cried out, "My son! Please don’t do anything foolish again! I beg you! If you’re gone, how will I live? If you can’t cultivate anymore, it’s okay; being an ordinary person isn’t so bad."
Zhao Yang looked up at his tearful mother and for the first time experienced maternal love. In his previous life, one parent was an alcoholic while the other was a gambler; they neglected him and often beat him without care. Even before dying in that life, he felt no attachment whatsoever. Although this body was twelve years old, malnutrition made him appear only ten. He reached out a small hand to wipe away his mother’s tears and said gently, "Mother, don’t worry. From now on, I won’t do anything foolish again."
He Qing nodded through her tears. "That’s good; as long as you listen to me and are happy with your sister, I’ll be happy too."
"Brother! Brother! When can you take me to see the little monkeys on the mountain?" The little girl Zhao Yu ran to the bedside and tugged at Zhao Yang's sleeve.
"Little monkeys?" At the mention of them, Zhao Yang felt a headache coming on and sensed something unusual within his soul. A glimmer flashed in his eyes as he replied, "Yuer, be good; my injury isn’t healed yet. I'm a bit tired today. How about I take you to see the little monkeys in a few days?" He then looked toward Zhao Tianlang and He Qing. "Father, Mother, I'm feeling a bit tired; my head is still not clear. I’d like to rest for a while longer."
"Hmph, Brother is lying. You always say you'll take me, but you never do," the little girl Zhao Yu pouted.
"Alright, Yuer, your brother just woke up and is still weak. Let's go outside and let him rest a bit longer. We'll have chicken soup together tonight," their mother He Qing said as she led Zhao Yu out of the room, glancing back at Zhao Yang.
Zhao Tianlang, who had been silent, gently patted Zhao Yang's shoulder and said, "You can sleep a little longer. Your father will come to call you for dinner."
Zhao Yang nodded, watching his father's departing figure, taking in the tattered hem of his father's pants and the bloodied footprints left behind, enveloped in silence.
After a long moment, Zhao Yang propped himself up and said, "Come out; I know you're still here."
As soon as he spoke, a figure that looked exactly like him appeared by his bedside. However, this figure was blurry and lacked substance, as if it could dissipate at any moment.
"Don't worry; I won't make the same mistakes you did. I won't be foolish enough to stand against the whole world alone unless I have the strength to do so. I will help you take revenge. I may not have seen all the world's hardships, but my experiences surpass anyone else's. I will treat your parents and sister as my own kin. You just mentioned in my mind that there's still a chance for me to cultivate—what does that mean?"
Upon hearing Zhao Yang's words, the original owner of this body smiled faintly and softly said "thank you" before transforming into a shower of light and disappearing out the window. This was the manifestation of Zhao Yang's past life's obsession; it knew that the new owner of this body would fulfill its wishes, thus unlocking the final seal on its memories. Immediately after, leaning against the bed, Zhao Yang recalled everything from this life. He looked puzzled out the window and muttered to himself, "A mountain shaped like a hand pressing down on a spirited talking monkey—why does that sound more and more like our world being suppressed under Wuzhishan by Sun Wukong?"
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