Shouts! Shouts! Shouts! In the darkness, Qin Ziling suddenly shot up from his wooden bed, his chest pounding as if struck, his forehead beaded with cold sweat.
Just now, he had experienced another nightmare.
He dreamed he was sitting in a wheelchair, looking up at the distant blue sky. Airplanes flew continuously, their roaring sounds tearing through the air, leaving two long, snow-white smoke trails behind them.
Suddenly, one of the airplanes transformed into a long, yellow-scaled monster, its entire body covered in scales. Two sharp fangs gleamed like pointed blades, and its eyes were as dark as night, with clusters of ghostly flames leaping within, forming the terrifying and ferocious shape of a dragon-beast.
Perched atop the dragon-beast's head was a tall, thin figure with an old, ugly face – an old man dressed in colored robes.
Meanwhile, the smoke trails from the airplane behind transformed into two long, white lines, which then became two sharp, exquisitely crafted swords, shooting out in all directions.
In the dream, he suddenly became that old, ugly man. An icy coldness and the dragon's grotesque gloom filled his entire body, rendering him weak and powerless.
Facing the swords piercing through space, his mind was overwhelmed with despair.
Suddenly, the two swords emitted a dazzling light like the sun, and tens of thousands of sword rays roared, sweeping across the space between heaven and earth.
"My life is over!"
In the dream, the old man, who was also Qin Ziling, felt an indescribable pain. In his vision, he saw his own body, even in the form of the dragon-beast, pierced by thousands upon thousands of sword rays, riddled with hundreds of thousands of holes, before suddenly exploding.
In that dazzling moment, a terrifying force erupted, causing thousands of mountains below to collapse.
A chaotic rain of mangled flesh and blood rained down.
In the dream, the image froze on a severed finger streaking through the darkness, falling alongside the foot of a mountain and the ruined, dilapidated Taoist temple behind an ancient well.
A black ring was wrapped around the severed finger.
Above the crooked door of the Taoist temple hung a dilapidated signboard, on which were written the three characters "Chi Xiao Guan".
. After a long while, in the darkness, Qin Ziling slowly calmed down. He gazed through the paper-covered wooden window, where outside, it was still pitch black.
Then, he lay back down on the bed, looking at the ceiling which was no different from the pile of scrap wood on the floor. A complex, bewildered look appeared in his eyes.
Ten days ago, he was still in a bright room with glass windows and walls painted a light blue.
On that day, his consciousness gradually became muddled and distant. A crushing darkness descended, seeking to defeat him, then devour him.
In that moment, he thought he had finally succumbed to the demonic illness, that his life had reached its end.
But he was truly unwilling to accept it.
He had just turned thirty. Three years prior, his career had suffered all sorts of setbacks, but then it finally saw a glimmer of hope, and a good life was beginning to smile upon him.
Therefore, he suddenly felt invigorated, constantly telling himself to hold on.
He struggled ceaselessly in the darkness, refusing to let his consciousness sink. He believed that modern medicine was advancing daily, and as long as he persevered, there was hope! In the end, whatever was devouring him shattered him, and he lost consciousness.
When he awoke, he found himself in an ancient, dilapidated room, covered by a tattered quilt, and he had become a nineteen-year-old named Qin Ziling.
Ten days was neither long nor short, but because he had not only gained Qin Ziling's body but also absorbed his memories, after ten days of daze, he slowly began to accept and adapt to his new identity.
But throughout those ten days, the same dream recurred, and his mind was often filled with strange images of Jiangshi. Even more, evil, cold, and ruthless thoughts suddenly sprang from his subconscious, making his transmigration into Qin Ziling's body accompanied by extremely chilling thoughts that made his hair stand on end.
In his soul, there remained an extremely dark, evil, and ruthless spirit.
"If, as written in novels, my soul transmigrated into Qin Ziling, then why do I constantly dream of myself becoming an ugly person, even one imbued with sinister evil? Why, in my mind, besides Qin Ziling's memories from when he was alive, do fragmented, chaotic, and darkly evil memories occasionally appear, along with many strange images of Jiangshi? These are definitely not Qin Ziling's memories! Could it be that in my previous life, I watched too many ghost movies and Jiangshi films?"
"But this time, in the nightmare, I clearly saw the Daoist priest's name."
It seemed that Daoist priest's name had never appeared before.
Qin Ziling's mind, muddled with thoughts, drifted off to sleep again.
When he woke up a second time, it was already morning.
Qin Ziling was born into a wealthy family and was the heir to the clan. Their three-story house was built with blue bricks, featuring a vegetable garden in the back and coops for chickens and ducks.
Qin Ziling stood in the east bedroom. He walked out of the room and encountered a woman in a long, coarse dress. She had delicate features but pale skin, a young woman who seemed undernourished.
This young woman was feeding ducks.
"Young Master is awake," An Ran Yue quickly said, seeing Qin Ziling get out of bed. "I'll take Young Master to wash up."
"No need, I'll do it myself."
Qin Ziling waved his hand and walked to the well, scooping water to wash his face.