Chapter 1: The Heart of a Demon Has No Regret, Even in Death
Translator: Skyfarrow Editor: Skyfarrow
"Victor Chen, quietly hand over the Spring Autumn Cicada, and I'll give you a quick death!"
"Old bastard Chen, stop resisting! Today, all of the major factions of justice have united to destroy your devil's lair. This place is already an inescapable trap. This time, you will surely be decapitated!"
"Victor Chen, you damn demon! Just to cultivate the Spring Autumn Cicada, you've killed thousands of people. You've committed too many unforgivable, heinous sins!"
"Demon, 300 years ago, you insulted me, took away my purity, killed my entire family, and executed my descendants for nine generations. From that moment on, I hated you with a burning passion! Today, I want you to die!"
...
Victor was clad in deep green robes that had been torn to shreds. His hair was disheveled, and his entire body was covered in blood. He looked around.
The bloody robes fluttered lightly in the mountain breeze like a war flag.
Fresh blood flowed from numerous wounds on his body. Just by standing there for a moment, Victor had already accumulated a large pool of blood beneath his feet.
Enemies surrounded him on all sides; there was no way out.
It was a foregone conclusion that he would die here.
Victor understood his situation clearly, but even in the face of death, his expression remained calm.
His gaze was serene, his eyes like deep pools with no discernible end.
The major factions of justice surrounding him were composed of experienced elders and young, talented heroes alike. Around the heavily besieged Victor, some were roaring, some were sneering; eyes gleamed with hostility, and some held their wounds while watching him fearfully.
They did not move; everyone was wary of Victor's final attack.
For six hours, this tense standoff continued until evening, with the sun casting its rays upon the mountainside. In that moment, it seemed as if the entire place was ablaze.
Victor, who had remained silent as a statue the entire time, slowly turned his body.
The group of warriors was instantly on high alert, taking a collective step backward.
By now, the gray mountain rock beneath Victor's feet had long been stained a dark red. Due to his excessive blood loss, his face had become deathly pale; yet in the sunset's glow, it shone with an eerie brilliance.
Looking at the setting sun, Victor chuckled lightly. "The sun sets over the blue mountain, the autumn moon with the spring breeze. Morning is fine as silk, night is like snow; whether you succeed or fail, when you look back, there's nothing left."
As he spoke, memories of his previous life on Earth flooded his mind.
He had once been a Chinese scholar on Earth who somehow arrived in this world. He endured a harsh life for 300 years, then another 200 years; over 500 years of his life had flown by in the blink of an eye.
So many memories buried deep within his heart resurfaced, blossoming before his eyes.
"I failed in the end," Victor sighed internally, yet he felt no regret.
He had foreseen this outcome. From the moment he made his decision, he had prepared himself for this.
To be a demon is to be merciless and cruel, a murderer and destroyer. Heaven and earth hold no place for such a being, who turns against the world and accepts the consequences.
"If the Spring Autumn Cicada I've cultivated works, I shall be a demon again in my next life!" With this thought, Victor couldn't help but laugh aloud.
"Wicked demon, what are you laughing about?"
"Everyone, be careful! The demon is about to strike before his final moments!"
"Hurry and surrender the Spring Autumn Cicada!"
The group of warriors surged forward; at that moment, a loud explosion erupted, and Victor was engulfed in a blinding surge of energy.
...
The spring rain quietly fell on Green Hill Mountain.
It was already late at night, a light breeze blowing with the drizzle.
Yet Green Hill Mountain was not shrouded in darkness; from its slopes down to the foot of the mountain, dozens of tiny lights shone like a radiant band.
These lights came from tall buildings. Though they did not match up to ten thousand lights, they numbered in the thousands.
Located on the mountain was Chen Village, adding a touch of human life to the lonely wilderness.
In the center of Chen Village stood a grand pavilion. A solemn ceremony was underway, with lights brighter than ever, radiating magnificence.
"Ancestors, please bless us! We pray this ceremony will bring forth young men of great talent and wisdom, providing their families with new hope!" The head of the Chen Clan, a middle-aged man with graying sideburns, dressed in ceremonial white robes, knelt on the yellow-brown floor. His posture was upright, hands clasped, eyes shut tight in sincere prayer.
He faced a tall black altar with three tiers, each holding memorial tablets of the ancestors. On either side of the tablets, copper incense burners emitted fragrant smoke.
Behind him were over ten individuals kneeling in similar fashion. Clad in loose ceremonial robes, they were the clan's elders and other high-ranking members.
After finishing the prayer, the clan head bent down, pressing his hands to the floor, and kowtowed. A series of light thuds echoed as foreheads met the yellow-brown floor.
When the ceremony concluded, the group slowly rose and silently filed out of the temple.
In the hallway, the elders sighed with relief, and the atmosphere relaxed. Quiet murmurs filled the air.
"Time flies too quickly; a year has passed in the blink of an eye."
"The last ceremony feels like it was just yesterday; I remember it vividly."
"Tomorrow marks the annual grand ceremony. I wonder which new talents will emerge this year?"
"I hope some exceptional youths appear. It's been three years since the Chen Clan produced a true genius."
"True. The White and Bear Villages have both seen talented individuals arise recently. Especially that Ning White of the White Clan, his natural talent is astounding."
At the mention of Ning White, concern flashed across the elders' faces.
The young man's talents were remarkable; after only two years of training, he had reached the level of a Level 3 Master. Among the younger generation, he was unmatched. Even the older generation felt a sense of pressure from him.
In time, Ning White would become a pillar of the White Clan, at least a powerful warrior in his own right. No one doubted this.
"But not all hope is lost for this year's participants."
"You're right. There's that young genius, Ethan Chen. Able to speak at three months, walk at four, and recite poetry by five, he shows extraordinary intelligence and talent. It's unfortunate that his parents died young, and now he's being raised by his aunt and uncle."
"Yes, this one shows wisdom beyond his years and big ambitions. He's already written 'Jing of the River,' 'Eternal Plum,' and 'Song of the City,' all remarkable compositions. A true genius!"
The Chen Clan head was the last to leave the ancestral temple. After slowly closing the door, he overheard the elders' discussion in the corridor.
As the clan head, it was only natural to keep an eye on the most promising youth. Ethan Chen, in particular, was the most remarkable of the junior generation.
"If this child has A-grade potential, he could rival Ning White with the right nurturing. Even with B-grade potential, he could become a leader of the Chen Clan. With his early intelligence, an A-grade is likely." This thought brought a faint smile to the clan head's face.
He cleared his throat and addressed the elders. "It's late, and we have the ceremony tomorrow. Rest well tonight and be prepared."
His words carried an implicit message, understood by all.
Each year, competition over promising youth was fierce among the elders.
For Ethan Chen, whose A-grade potential was highly probable, competition would be especially intense. If an elder managed to bring him into their family line, with proper care, they would ensure a hundred years of prosperity.
"Let me remind you, though—compete fairly. No tricks or schemes to harm the clan's unity. Remember that!"
"Of course, of course."
"Understood."
"Goodnight, then."
The elders dispersed with thoughtful expressions.
The hallway soon fell silent. A gentle spring rain drifted in through the window as the clan head gazed out, breathing in the fresh, cool air.
From this high vantage point, he could see half of Chen Village.
Although it was late, many houses were still lit, an unusual sight.
Tomorrow's ceremony affected everyone's interests, and a mix of excitement and tension filled the clan's hearts. Many lay awake, anticipating the event.
"This is the hope for the clan's future." Watching the flickering lights, the clan head sighed.
At the same moment, a pair of clear eyes watched the same glowing lights from another window, filled with complex emotions.
"Chen Village... This is 500 years ago? It seems the Spring Autumn Cicada really worked..." Victor Chen stared quietly out the window, feeling the gentle rain touch his face.
The Spring Autumn Cicada ranked seventh in the Ten Mystical Creatures, granting rebirth.
"With its power, I have returned 500 years to the past!" Victor raised his hand, studying his young, pale fingers, and clenched his fist tightly.
Listening to the rain tapping softly against the window, he closed his eyes for a long moment before reopening them with a sigh. "Five hundred years of experience—like a fleeting dream."
But he knew it well: this was definitely not a dream.