“My heart is like still water, and my thoughts have turned to ash. Unexpectedly, the light of spring shone through the cold night. Were it not for the heavens’ favoring of the lonely blades of grass in the valley, alas, this world would have nothing but wind and snow.”

     The clear, gentle voice of a female singer reached his ears. The poetic verses sounded like cascading pearls and jade, but all the sound did was make Mo Ran’s head ache as the vein by his brow throbbed madly.

     “What’s all this noise?! Where did this crying ghost come from?! Someone beat this lowly slave girl down the mountain!”

     It was only after Mo Ran hollered that he realized something wasn’t right…

     …Wasn’t he supposed to be dead?

     Hatred, cold, suffering, and loneliness pierced his chest, making it hurt. Mo Ran’s eyes flew open abruptly, every feeling from before his death scattering like snow in the wind.

     He found himself lying on a bed. It wasn’t his bed in Sisheng Peak. This bed was embellished with intricate carvings of dragons and phoenixes, the wood exuding the heavy scent of rogue. The worn bedding was various shades of pink and purple, and it was embroidered with mandarin ducks playing in the water. Such bedding would only be used by those from a brothel.

     “…”

     Mo Ran froze for a moment. He knew where he was.

     This was a tile place near Sisheng Peak.

     This so-called tile place was just another way of referring to a brothel; this name was given with the idea of “roof tiles uniting and parting,” with the intention of guests and courtesans meeting and parting on good terms.

     When Mo Ran was young, he was very promiscuous for a period of time and would spend over ten nights a month in this exact brothel. However, this place had been sold when he was in his twenties and was later turned into a wine shop. How could it be that after his death, he ended up in a brothel that no longer existed?

     Had he sinned so deeply in life, harmed so many young men and women, that the king of the underworld was punishing him by having him reincarnate in a brothel to receive guests?

     While having these absurd thoughts, Mo Ran unconsciously turned over and found himself face-to-face with a sleeping person.

     “…”

     What the hell was going on?!! Why was there someone lying next to him??! And it was a stark naked man!

     The man had a youthful face with delicate features, fair and lovely in appearance, so it was difficult to tell whether he was male or female. Mo Ran kept his expression blank, but on the inside, his emotions were surging. He stared at the pretty boy’s sleeping face for a long time, then suddenly remembered.

     Wasn’t this the male prostitute he used to dote on when he was young? Was his name Rong San?

     Or maybe it was Rong Jiu.

     Whether it was San or Jiu wasn’t important. The important thing was that this male prostitute later contracted a venereal disease and had been dead for so many years that by now even his bones should have decayed. Yet, at this moment, he was alive, delicately curled up by Mo Ran’s side, his tender, fair shoulders and neck exposed by the uncovered blanket, revealing that they were covered with purple and blue love bites.

     With a gloomy face, Mo Ran lifted the blanket, his gaze shifting downward.

     “...”

     This Rong Jiu, or San, or whatever—he’d just call him Rong Jiu for now—the little beauty Rong Jiu had rope burns all over his body, and his supple, jade-like thighs were still intricately bound with red rope.

     Mo Ran stroked his chin and sighed to himself, Well, isn’t that fun?

     Just look at this exquisite taste, this skillful technique, this familiar scene... Didn’t he tie this damn thing himself?!

     Being a cultivator, he was familiar with the concept of rebirth and couldn’t help but start to suspect that he seemed to have come back to life in the past. In order to confirm his suspicions, Mo Ran found a copper mirror. It was worn and badly scratched, but in the dull surface, he could still vaguely see his appearance.

     Mo Ran had been thirty-two years old when he died, but the face reflected in the mirror looked rather youthful. The arrogance reflected in his handsome features was that seen only in the young, and he looked no more than fifteen or sixteen years old.

     There was no one else in the room, so after a long silence, the once-cruel tyrant of the cultivation world, tormentor of Shuzhong, emperor of the mortal realm, Lord of Sisheng Peak, Taxian-Jun, Mo Ran, expressed his inner feelings honestly:

     “Fuck…”

     This “Fuck” roused the sleeping Rong Jiu.

     The beauty sat up languidly, the thin embroidered blanket slipping from his shoulder and exposing more of his pale skin. His long hair hung loose, his peach blossom eyes appearing sleepy and reddened with a faint trace of rouge at the outer corners. He yawned. “Oh… Mo-gongzi, you’re up so early today.”

     Mo Ran didn’t answer. More than ten years ago, he indeed liked delicate and charming androgynous beauties like Rong Jiu. But now, as the thirty-two-year-old Taxian-Jun, no matter how he looked at it, he highly suspected that a donkey must have kicked his brain for him to find this kind of man attractive.

     Rong Jiu asked, “Did you not sleep well last night? Was it a nightmare?”

     This Venerable One fucking died—how about that for a nightmare?

     Seeing that he still didn’t speak, Rong Jiu thought he was in a bad mood and got up from the bed, walking to the window to hug Mo Ran from behind. “Mo-gongzi, why don’t you pay attention to me? What are you spacing out and ignoring me for?”

     Mo Ran’s entire face turned blue at this embrace. He wanted nothing more than to tear this little devil off his back and slap his delicate face ten times over, but he held back. He was still a bit perplexed and couldn’t make any sense of the situation.

     After all, if he really had been reborn, then he couldn’t just beat Rong Jiu out of the blue after sleeping with him just last night. This behavior would make it seem like he had lost his mind. Not good, and definitely out of the question.

     Mo Ran reined in his emotions and asked, pretending to be forgetful, “What month and day is it today?”

     Rong Jiu was taken aback for a moment, then smiled as he replied, “It’s the fourth day of the fifth month.”

     “Bingshen year?”

     “That was last year. This year is Dingyou year, thirty-fourth in the cycle. Mo-gongzi is indeed of noble birth, overlooking such things as time passes.”

     The thirty-fourth year…

     Mo Ran’s eyes darkened, and his mind spun rapidly. In Dingyou year, he would have turned sixteen years old, and it would be a year since the Sect Leader of Sisheng Peak had acknowledged him as his long-lost nephew. Just like that, he went from being a scruffy, stray, bullied dog to a phoenix in the branches with a single leap.

     Then… had he really been reborn? Or was this just a hollow dream after death?

     Rong Jiu laughed. “Mo-gongzi is so hungry he doesn’t even remember the date. Stay here for a bit, and I’ll go to the kitchen and bring you something to eat. How about fried youxuan pastries?”

     Mo Ran had just been reborn and still didn’t know how to handle all this, but it must be acceptable to go along with his old habits. And so he thought back to his former charisma of the past, held back his disgust, and smiled as he playfully pinched Rong Jiu’s thigh.

     “That would be good. Get a bowl of porridge too, and feed me when you get back.”

     Rong Jiu dressed himself and left, soon returning with a wooden tray, on which there was a bowl of pumpkin porridge, two crispy youxuan pastries, and a plate of side dishes.

     Mo Ran was a little hungry and was about to grab a fried youxuan pastry when Rong Jiu suddenly brushed his hand aside and said sweetly, “Allow me to serve gongzi.”

     “…”

     Rong Jiu picked up a fried youxuan pastry and sat on Mo Ran’s lap, wearing only a thin outer robe, with nothing else underneath. His soft and supple thighs spread apart, pressing flush against Mo Ran’s skin and even rubbing suggestively against him, his seductive intentions clear.

     Mo Ran stared at Rong Jiu’s face for a while.

     Rong Jiu thought he was getting turned on again and chided, “What do you keep looking at me like that for? The food is getting cold.”

     Mo Ran was quiet. Remembering what Rong Jiu did behind his back in the previous life, the corners of his mouth curved into a sweet, affectionate smile.

     The great Taxian-Jun had done many repulsive things. As long as he wanted, he could do anything, no matter how repulsive. This was nothing more than putting on an act, mere child’s play. It was nothing that could faze him.

     Mo Ran leaned back comfortably against the chair and said with a smile, “Come sit.”

     “I’m… I’m already sitting here?”

     “You know where I’m telling you to sit.”

     Rong Jiu blushed, sputtering, “What’s the rush? How about gongzi finishes eating firs—ah!”

     Before he could even finish his words, he was forcibly pulled up by Mo Ran, shifted forward, and pressed down again. Rong Jiu’s hands trembled, making the bowl of porridge fall to the ground. He panted and said softly, “Mo-gongzi, the bowl…”

     “Don’t bother with it.”

     “But, but you should eat something first… nhh… aah…”

     “Aren’t I eating now?” Mo Ran held him by the waist, his dark eyes flickering with light as the image of Rong Jiu’s lovely face and exposed neck reflected in his pitch-black pupils.

     In his previous life, he especially liked to kiss those bright red lips whenever they were entangled. After all, this boy was pretty, always seeking the favor of others, and was adept at saying just the right words to seduce him. It would be a lie to say he’d never felt anything at all.

     However, now that Mo Ran knew what these treacherous lips had done behind his back, he found them unbearably foul and had absolutely no interest in kissing them anymore.

     There were many differences between the thirty-two-year-old Mo Ran and the fifteen-year-old Mo Ran. His fifteen-year-old self had still known gentleness during intimate affairs. But by the time he was thirty-two years old, all that was left was violence.

     After the act was done, Mo Ran looked at Rong Jiu, who’d been screwed within an inch of his life until he was unconscious and barely breathing, with an undercurrent of something dark in his gaze as he smiled sweetly. He was very good-looking when he smiled, his pupils a deep, rich black, and when seen from certain angles, even had a hint of rich and luxurious dark purple. Still smiling, he lifted Rong Jiu by his hair and used it to drag the unconscious person to the bed.

     Then he picked up a shard of broken porcelain from the floor and held it over Rong Jiu’s face. He had always been a vengeful person, repaying even the smallest of grievances, and it was no different now.

     Thinking about how he had taken care of Rong Jiu in his previous life, even wanting to help him buy his freedom, and how Rong Jiu turned around and collaborated with others to scheme against him, he couldn’t help but reveal a deeper smile. He pressed the sharp porcelain shard against Rong Jiu’s cheek.

     This person did business using his body. If his face was ruined, he’d have nothing left. This pretty boy would then be living on the streets like a dog, crawling on the ground, being kicked by boots, and suffering getting crushed, chastised, abused, ah… just imagining it made him feel delighted. Even the disgust of having fucked this person just now was dissipating like smoke.

     Mo Ran’s smile became even lovelier.

     Exerting a little force, a fine line of blood appeared on Rong Jiu’s face, captivatingly scarlet. The unconscious Rong Jiu seemed to feel the pain, crying out softly in a hoarse voice as teardrops clung to his lashes, making for quite a pitiful sight.

     Mo Ran’s hand suddenly stopped.

     He thought of a dear old friend.

     “…”

     Then he suddenly realized what he was about to do. After a few moments in a daze, he finally, slowly, lowered his hand.

     He was so used to committing evil acts that it had become a habit. He’d even forgotten that he had been reborn.

     At this moment, none of those things had happened yet—his irreversible mistakes hadn’t been committed, and that person… was still alive. Why did he have to walk the same previous cruel and violent path when he could start all over again?

     He sat down, one foot propped against the edge of the bed as he absently toyed with the broken porcelain shard in his hand. Seeing the youxuan pastry that still sat on the table, he picked it up, peeled the wax paper open, and took large bites until the crumbs got all over his mouth and his lips were shiny with grease.

     This youxuan pastry was the specialty of this tile place. In truth, it wasn't that good, and compared to all the delicacies he tasted later in life, it was like eating candle wax. However, after the tile place closed down, Mo Ran never got to eat these youxuan pastries ever again. Right now, the familiar taste returned from years past, and the surreal feeling of being reborn lessened with every swallow.

     By the time he finished the youxuan pastry, his mind slowly cleared from the initial stupor it had been in ever since he woke.

     He really had been reborn.

     All the evil in his life, all the things he couldn’t undo, hadn’t yet come to pass. He hadn’t killed his uncle and auntie, hadn’t massacred seventy-two cities, hadn’t disgraced his master and ancestors, hadn’t gotten married, hadn’t…

     No one had died yet.

     He savored the taste in his mouth and licked his teeth, feeling a small thread of delight unravel rapidly as it became a fanatical storm of emotions in his chest. He’d been a supreme figure in his previous life, dabbling with the three forbidden techniques of the mortal realm. He mastered two of the forbidden techniques, but even though he was especially talented, the last technique—Rebirth—was beyond his reach.

     But he never expected that what he had failed to obtain in life would fall effortlessly into his lap in death.

     All of the unresolved, disheartened, lonely, and other complex feelings from his previous life still lingered in his chest. The scene of Sisheng Peak full of firelight under siege of the revolting armies was still fresh in his mind.

     At that time, he really didn’t want to live anymore. Everyone said that his very existence cursed all who came close to him, that he was destined to die alone, abandoned by his friends and relatives. Near the end, even he himself felt that he was a walking corpse, living an aimless and lonely life.

     But he didn’t know what had gone wrong for an irredeemably condemned sinner like him to get a chance to start over again after taking his own life.

     Why should he ruin Rong Jiu’s face just to avenge such a small long-standing personal grudge?

     Rong Jiu was a person who loved money. Mo Ran would just not pay for this session and also steal some taels of silver. This minor punishment would be enough. He didn’t want to carry the burden of taking a life for the time being.

     “I’m letting you off easy, Rong Jiu,” Mo Ran said with a smile, exerting force with his fingertips and tossing the porcelain shard out of the window. He then emptied out all the jewels and valuables Rong Jiu owned and tucked them away in his pockets. Only after this did he slowly tidy himself up and leisurely stroll out of the tile place.

     Uncle, Auntie, younger cousin Xue Meng, Shizun, and…

     Mo Ran’s gaze instantly softened at the thought of a last person.

     Shige, I’m coming to look for you.