“My heart is dead as still water, my longing thoughts turned to ash. Yet in the wake of winter's deepest cold, the radiance of spring shines through. Would the heavens truly take pity on the insignificant blades of glass in a secluded valley? But I’m afraid it won’t last amidst the wind and snow of this treacherous world.”

     The clear, gentle voice of a female singer reached his ears. The poetic verses resounded like cascading pearls and jade, but it only made Mo Ran’s head hurt 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 dead?

     Hatred, cold, suffering, and loneliness struck his chest, making it ache. Mo Ran’s eyes flew open abruptly, his feelings from the moments before his death scattering like snow in the wind.

     He found himself lying on a bed. But 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 rouge. The worn bedding was various shades of pink and purple, embroidered with mandarin ducks playing in the water. Such bedding was only 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. Tile place was just another name for a brothel. The name originated with the idea of “roof tiles uniting and parting,” with the intention of patrons and prostitutes meeting and parting on good terms. There was a period of time in Mo Ran’s youth when he was quite promiscuous and would spend over ten nights a month in this exact brothel. However, this place had been sold when he was in his early twenties and later turned into a tavern. To end up in a brothel that no longer existed after this death, how could that be?

     Had he sinned so deeply in life, harmed so many young men and women, that as punishment from the king of the underworld, he was reincarnated in a brothel to receive guests?

     While having these absurd thoughts, Mo Ran unconsciously turned over and was met with a sleeping face.

     “…”

     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 so fair and lovely in appearance that it was difficult to tell whether he was male or female. Mo Ran kept his expression blank, but on the inside, his heart surged with waves. He stared at the pretty boy’s sleeping face for a long time, then suddenly remembered. Wasn’t this the male prostitute he favored 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 detail was that this male prostitute later contracted a venereal disease and had been dead for so many years that even his bones should have decayed by now. Yet, at this moment, he was alive, delicately curled up by Mo Ran’s side, the sliding blanket revealing his tender, fair neck mottled with bruising purple and blue love bites.

     Mo Ran lifted the blanket, his gaze shifting downward with a gloomy expression.

     “…”

     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, his supple, jade-like thighs still intricately bound with red rope even now.

     Mo Ran stroked his chin and sighed to himself, What good taste.

     Just look at this exquisite binding, this skillful technique, this familiar scene… Did he tie this damn thing himself?!

     Being a cultivator, Mo Ran was familiar with the concept of rebirth and couldn’t help but suspect that he had been reborn. To confirm his suspicions, Mo Ran found a copper mirror. It was worn and badly scratched, but he could still roughly see his appearance on the dull surface.

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

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

     “Fuck…”

     This single “fuck” woke the lightly 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, and the outer corners of his drowsy peach blossom eyes were reddened with a faint trace of rouge. He yawned. “Hm… Mo-gongzi, you’re up so early today.”

     Mo Ran didn’t answer. More than ten years ago, he’d undoubtedly preferred 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 he must have lost his mind to find this type of man tempting.

     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 look at me? What are you spacing out and ignoring me for?”

     Mo Ran’s face grew ashen in 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 bewildered 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 a lunatic. Not good, and definitely out of the question.

     Mo Ran reined in his emotions and asked, pretending to be forgetful, “What date 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 was fifteen years old and had just recently been acknowledged as the Sect Leader of Sisheng Peak’s long-lost nephew. Just like that, he went from being a lone, easily bullied stray dog to a phoenix in the branches with a single leap. Then… had he really been reborn? Or was this just a vast hollow dream after death?

     Rong Jiu laughed. “Mo-gongzi is so hungry he doesn’t even remember the date. Stay here for a bit. 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 recalled his former charisma of the past, held back his disgust, and grinned as he playfully pinched Rong Jiu’s thigh. “That would be good. Get a bowl of congee 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 congee, 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, pliant thighs spread apart, pressing flush against Mo Ran’s skin and rubbing suggestively against him, his provocative invitation unmistakable.

     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. But as long as he wanted to, there was nothing too repulsive for him. This was nothing more than putting on an act, a mere walk in the park, something that couldn’t even 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 and sputtered, “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, and the bowl of congee fell 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 visage of Rong Jiu’s lovely face and bare neck reflected in his pitch-black pupils.

     In his previous life, he especially liked to kiss those bright red lips when they were entangled. After all, this boy was pretty, always seeking the favor of others, and 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, all that was left was violence.

     After the act was done, Mo Ran looked at Rong Jiu, who’d been fucked 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 charming when he smiled, his pupils a deep, rich black, and when seen from certain angles, even had a hint of vibrant dark purple.

     Still smiling, he lifted Rong Jiu by his hair and dragged 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 vindictive person, repaying even the smallest of grievances in full, and it was no different now.

     Thinking about how he had taken care of Rong Jiu in his previous life and even wanted to help him buy his freedom, and how Rong Jiu then turned around and collaborated with others to scheme against him, he couldn’t help but smile even wider. He pressed the sharp porcelain shard against Rong Jiu’s cheek. This person did business using his body. If his face were ruined, he’d have nothing left.

     This sycophant would then be living on the streets like a dog, crawling on the ground, being kicked by boots, and suffering being trampled, chastised, abused, ah… just imagining it made him feel enjoyment. 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 thin line of blood appeared on Rong Jiu’s face, captivatingly scarlet. Though unconscious, Rong Jiu seemed to feel the pain, crying out softly in a hoarse voice as teardrops clung to his eyelashes, 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. He was in a daze for a moment before 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 was 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 must he walk the same cruel and violent path again when he could start over?

     He sat down, one foot propped against the edge of the bed as he absently toyed with the broken porcelain shard in his hand. Then, noticing 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 flavorful, and compared to all the delicacies he tried 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 bite.

     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 betrayed his master and dishonored 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 an incomparable figure in his previous life, dabbling with the three forbidden techniques of the mortal realm and even mastering two of those forbidden techniques. However, despite his extraordinary aptitude, the last technique, Rebirth, was beyond his reach.

     He never expected that what he had failed to obtain in life would fall effortlessly into his lap in death. All of his unresolved, disheartened, lonely, and other complex feelings from his previous life still lingered in his chest. The scene of firelight blanketing Sisheng Peak under siege of the rebelling armies was still fresh in his mind.

     Back then, he truly didn’t want to continue living any longer. Everybody said his very existence was a curse to all those who were close to him, that he was destined to die alone, abandoned by his friends and relatives. Near the end, even he himself felt like a walking corpse, living an aimless and lonesome 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 an old, petty personal grudge? Rong Jiu was a person who valued money. Mo Ran would just withhold payment for this session and 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, gripping the porcelain shard with his fingertips and tossing it 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 tidy himself up without a care 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 the last person.

     Shige, I’m coming to look for you.