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Upon returning home and sitting on the sofa, Zhang Yang opened a bottle of beer.
The eighteen-year-old high school senior suddenly burst into tears. He didn't cry when he was kicked to the ground, nor when he was beaten until blood flowed. He didn't cry when the doctor treated his wounds with alcohol, but he cried upon returning to his warm home and opening a bottle of beer.
A man may shed tears, but not lightly.
"I will never be bullied again; I will become a strong force for justice!" Zhang Yang suddenly gulped down the beer in one go and violently threw the bottle away.
With a crash, the beer bottle seemed to be enchanted, not flying in the direction Zhang Yang had intended. Its trajectory changed in an unbelievable manner, directly shattering a Black Pottery Idol that was placed on the table. This Black Pottery Idol had been brought over by his grandmother as part of her dowry.
Zhang Yang's grandmother was originally from Linan Province in the Southwestern Border of Huaxia Nation. In 1949, Zhang Yang's grandfather participated in the liberation battles of Linan Province. Eventually, his grandmother followed his grandfather back to Shanzhou City in Shanhai Province. However, when Zhang Yang's father was only a teenager, Zhang Yang's grandfather passed away during a movement. After that, Zhang Yang's grandmother took his father from Shanzhou to Haizhou and never remarried.
Throwing the bottle was an impulsive act of anger, but seeing the Black Pottery Idol shattered on the ground made Zhang Yang anxious; it was one of the few things left by his grandmother that held sentimental value for him. He lunged forward but stumbled, and a sharp edge of a ceramic shard cut into his palm as he fell to the ground.
Amidst the sting of pain, Zhang Yang suddenly spotted a short knife lying among the broken pottery pieces. The dark blade and its glimmering edge seemed oddly mismatched, and the blade bore an intricate engraving of a strange figure that appeared to be twisting away as if blown by wind; the overall design was quite pleasing to the eye. This knife had clearly been resting within the hollow center of the Black Pottery Idol.
Zhang Yang reached out to grab it, and as a few drops of blood dripped from his hand onto the blade, they flowed into the engraved grooves.
Suddenly, the Blade radiated an intense light that seemed to pierce into his mind. Zhang Yang felt excruciating pain; darkness enveloped him as he fainted.
He entered a strange dream.
Beside a sprawling mountain range and beside the surging Great River stood a long-haired Dashing Man with his hands behind his back, wearing a slight cold smile. Dozens of Muscular Men holding swords hesitated before him, their faces showing fear. At this moment, an elderly man dressed in a Robe slowly stepped forward. With silver hair and an air of immortality about him, he sternly addressed:
"Zhang Xunqiu, you act wickedly and have killed countless; what more do you have to say?"
"I kill only those who deserve to die!"
"You engaged in an illicit affair with the wife of Wave Surge and killed Wave Surge. Was that also something you should have done?"
"It was mutual consent; if Wave Surge obstructed me, how could I not kill him?"
"Though Liu Zhao is in the southern barbarian lands, it still belongs to my glorious Tang Dynasty. How can I allow you to act recklessly!"
"The merchants and the powerful are completely at odds with my desire to punish evil and eliminate wrongdoers! Xuan Zhenzi, I hold your reputation in high regard, and we are of the same clan, but in today's battle, I will hold nothing back!"
From the conversation between the old man and Dashing Man, it is clear that Dashing Man is named Zhang Xunqiu, while the old man is known as Xuan Zhenzi. Based on what Zhang Xunqiu mentioned about being of the same clan, he should be a notable figure with the surname Zhang from the Tang Dynasty.
A fierce battle erupted. Suddenly, Xuan Zhenzi scattered a handful of red sand, causing Zhang Xunqiu's body to stiffen considerably. Chanting incantations, Xuan Zhenzi suddenly shot out a pitch-black dagger, which struck directly at Zhang Xunqiu's forehead. A wisp of smoke-like substance floated out from Zhang Xunqiu's forehead and slowly entered the pattern on the blade.
When struck, Zhang Xunqiu's tone changed dramatically: "Soul Requiem Blade... you want to ensure I can never..."
This scene abruptly halted. Then, an image of Zhang Xunqiu appeared in Zhang Yang's mind, surrounded by a light resembling blades. The figure danced, initially glowing red, then shifting to orange, following the sequence of red, orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and purple. Finally, the purple figure transformed into a blade shape and slashed toward the thick darkness, vanishing into nothingness.
At this moment, Zhang Yang felt as if his consciousness was being infused with something. Although he knew he was still himself, it felt as if he had suddenly gained some powerful ability. His mental acuity, cunningness, martial skills, and reflexes all surged to an unprecedented height.
A faint white mist began to rise from above Zhang Yang's head before he slowly opened his eyes. In reality, he had been unconscious for three days and nights; it was now the evening of the fourth day.
Rising to his feet, Zhang Yang picked up the pitch-black dagger. The blade's sharpness had faded; with a gentle shake, it turned into a pile of fragments. Unwrapping the bandage from his head, he discovered that the wound on his forehead had healed but left behind a faint red scar resembling a blade.
"Is this an evil spirit possessing me?!" Zhang Yang steadied himself and pinched his thigh hard; he exerted too much force and yelped in pain.
"It seems that the dream has indeed ended, but I don't feel another soul within my body. Did I only gain Zhang Xunqiu's abilities?" Zhang Yang opened his computer and began searching online, typing in Zhang Xunqiu. After a long search, he found that he was a powerful noble from the territory of Yue Xizhao, one of the Southwest Six Zhao during the Tang Dynasty. He was known for his exceptional martial arts skills and had killed countless people. He had an affair with the wife of Wave Surge, the king of Yue Xizhao, and ultimately killed Wave Surge, only to be slain by the Jian Nan Jiedushi stationed in the southwest.
Zhang Yang then searched for Xuan Zhenzi, which yielded more detailed information. "In front of Xise Mountain, white herons fly; peach blossoms flow with fat fish. With a green bamboo hat and a green raincoat, there's no need to return in the light rain and gentle wind. Wow, Zhang Zhihe, a poet from the Tang Dynasty, known by the title Xuan Zhenzi, abandoned his official position and family to wander the rivers and lakes. How impressive!" Zhang Yang thought to himself: both of them share the surname Zhang, and here I am, also named Zhang. After over a thousand years, their stories still end up on someone with the surname Zhang.
"Wait a minute, according to the records, Zhang Xunqiu died about twenty years before Zhang Zhihe drowned in the lake. Moreover, he should have had black hair and beard; how did he appear twenty years later with white hair and beard?" As Zhang Yang pondered this, he felt a flow of energy within him, and suddenly a thread of understanding emerged in his mind.
The rumors about Xuan Zhenzi drowning in the lake were indeed true. When he reappeared in the martial world later, his black hair and beard had turned white. The desire of Jian Nan Jiedushi to eliminate Zhang Xunqiu had not been recent; it took some time before they invited Xuan Zhenzi to carry out this task. The Soul Requiem Blade was a unique artifact belonging to Xuan Zhenzi. The soul of Zhang Xunqiu was sealed within the Soul Requiem Blade, which was further sealed inside the Black Pottery Idol. For over a thousand years, this evil soul could not reincarnate and instead cultivated into an unprecedented Strange Soul within the Soul Requiem Blade.
Suddenly, it dawned on Zhang Yang: the colors Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Cyan, Blue, Purple represented the seven stages that an evil soul must pass through to become a Strange Soul.
"When I merged with the Strange Soul, my forehead wound was at its weakest point. So even though it miraculously healed, it turned red—red as in crimson. This is the first layer of Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Cyan, Blue, Purple!" thought Zhang Yang. "This scar resembles the shape of the final purple blade; could it be that if I merge with higher levels of the Strange Soul, the scar will change color?"
As he continued to think, things became clearer for Zhang Yang. He now possessed both the martial arts skills and mindset of Zhang Xunqiu from when he was alive. As for how to further merge with the remaining levels, it would depend on chance.
"Even if it's just the abilities of Zhang Xunqiu from his lifetime, dealing with ten or eight small-time thugs would be like child's play." As Zhang Yang began to relax, he suddenly felt a strong urge to urinate.
After a prolonged session in the restroom, he heard gurgling sounds coming from his stomach; it felt uncomfortable. After all, he hadn't eaten or drunk anything for three days and nights. When he first woke up, he didn't notice it much due to being highly tense at that moment; he truly didn't feel hungry. Now that he had relaxed after relieving himself, that feeling of hunger was unbearable.
With a loud bang, Zhang Yang closed his door and went out to find something to eat.
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