The gorilla approached and raised its arm—but before the blow could fall, Zhang yong lifted his palm and released the Great Sun Flame. It shot forward as a straight beam, piercing through the air.
The sudden flash exploded the gorilla's eye. A scream burst from its mouth—one he could not hear—but it collapsed to the ground, writhing.
Soon, particles of Death Qi began seeping slowly into Zhang yong's body. Then the absorption suddenly accelerated.
His body rose from the ground as Death Qi coiled around him. Darkness swallowed him whole, turning his entire form pitch black—only his red eyes remained clearly visible.
At that moment, Zhang yong applied the Absorption Palm technique across his entire body, allowing Death Qi to enter through every pore.
By sensing Death Qi, he could gain a temporary sense of touch—even if it was imprecise.
His crimson eyes burned with a demonic light, and he smiled—a calm smile devoid of mercy.
The gorilla advanced again. Despite the pain, despite its ruptured eye, it responded to Mao Zedong's flute and fought mindlessly.
But in a single instant, Zhang yong vanished.
He reappeared directly before the gorilla and threw a punch that pierced straight through its skull.
Even without words, without sound, an overwhelming killing intent erupted from every inch of Zhang yong's body, all directed at Mao Zedong.
That naked killing intent forced Mao Zedong to take a step back. His brows trembled—but he bit down on his flute and changed the melody again.
This time, it was not only sound—the vibrations themselves distorted the surrounding space. The earth began to crack, and a thin fissure split open between him and Zhang yong.
From the depths of the ground, a long mass of rock shaped like a stone serpent rose.
As the note receded, the rocky form shot toward Zhang yong with force.
Zhang yong extended his right hand toward the incoming mass. In a flash, Death Qi wrapped around it.
Within a second, the rock began to crumble from the center—eroding, fracturing, turning into black dust that dissipated into the air.
Death Qi disrupted Qi. Therefore, this attack was useless.
Mao Zedong was stunned. He stepped back, staring in shock he had not felt in years.
"He… controlled Death Qi to disintegrate solid matter?! How… that's impossible!"
Zhang yong charged forward. The gorillas blocked his path—but this time, his body was like a launched arrow. He did not stop. He rammed straight through them without slowing.
A kick from his leg blew apart one gorilla's head, sending its body flying into another—two corpses shattering at once.
He turned, seized another arm mid-attack, and tore it off at the root—then used it as a weapon to smash its owner.
Mao Zedong played more fiercely, his fingers moving at terrifying speed. The vibrations tore apart the earth and blasted rocks into fragments.
But for the first time, he felt fear. Yes, his foundation was unstable—he had only just broken into the Venerable Realm—but a Venerable was still a Venerable. A mere brat without proper training should not have been able to endure at all.
Yet Zhang yong kept advancing. Gorillas fell left and right.
Mao Zedong played sharply again. Ten stone serpents appeared behind him and shot toward Zhang yong.
Zhang yong extended his palm. Death Qi exploded outward. He leapt forward, striking and stepping across the serpents as he advanced.
The rocks eroded, melted, and dissolved into black dust before reaching him.
"Come on!" Mao Zedong shouted, trying to change the melody again. But the moment he blew into the flute, Zhang yong suddenly extended his hand—
—and grabbed him.
Mao Zedong gasped. Blood burst from his mouth. In that final moment, he opened his mouth wide—and a long serpent shot out directly toward Zhang yong's neck, its fangs piercing through his skin.
Mao Zedong smiled—perhaps for the last time.
Blood flowed from Zhang yong's neck, but he did not even blink.
"Poison is useless against me," Zhang yong said coldly before tightening his grip and crushing Mao Zedong's neck.
The moment it snapped, Mao Zedong's eyes bulged, and his final smile froze on his face.
Zhang yong let the corpse fall to the ground.
"It's over…" he said—though he could not hear his own voice, he felt it in his heart.
He looked at his hand, then suddenly felt weak. His vision doubled.
Involuntarily, Zhang yong's body collapsed to the ground as his sight dimmed 'I didn't hear any notification of poisoning… what…?'
Though he struggled to remain conscious, he could not resist.
Before his eyes closed, he saw two shadows running toward him—likely Wu Ruxian and Long Youliang—but he could not think further before darkness claimed him.
Outside, Wu Ruxian ran to his body and dropped to her knees beside him. Her face—always cold—was filled with panic.
"Yong! Wake up!"
She lifted him gently and began examining his injuries, noticing only the bite wound.
At that moment, Long Youliang arrived as well. She looked at Zhang yong's condition. "What happened?"
Wu Ruxian immediately placed her hand over Zhang yong's heart and transmitted her spiritual energy into his body.
In an instant, the energy spread throughout him. Her eyes widened.
'This Qi… this isn't Death Qi. It's ominous—too ominous to even be Qi'
Her mind raced. 'This structure… it's a curse. Then he should be fine—his innate Life-and-Death physique should resist curses'
She grabbed his wrist and checked his pulse.
'Wait! The pulse isn't stable. Impossible—his physique should—… No. I can't be mistaken about the structure, This is without doubt… acquired. It's not an innate physique. He isn't curse-resistant! Even trying to steal it would be useless!'
In that moment, Wu Ruxian realized the truth.
All her plans. All the time she had spent preparing. All of it was meaningless.
Only innate physiques could be stolen. Acquired physiques could not.
Innate physiques were born with the person—therefore they could be taken.
But acquired physiques were gained later, not born with the individual. They were, in a sense, "used."
To explain it simply—what is better? A used device or a brand-new one?
A used one would never match the quality of a new one. And in this case, attempting to steal an acquired physique would kill the original host and destroy the structure entirely—rendering it completely worthless.
As Wu Ruxian sank into shock, her gaze grew rigid, her face pale, her hand still gripping Zhang yong's wrist. Though his body was warm, he seemed like a lifeless corpse.
The disappointment was immense. Everything she had worked toward was useless. It hadn't been easy.
Now Zhang yong held no value. Practically speaking, there was no reason for her to save his life.
Long Youliang noticed her expression and stepped closer. "Ruxian… is he alright?"
For a moment, Wu Ruxian seemed to awaken from a daze. She shook her head sharply 'What am I thinking? Saving him is what matters'
"It's a curse," she said seriously. "It devours blood and feeds on vitality. We can't cure it—but a Buddhist monk could. However, he won't last until we find one."
Long Youliang looked troubled, then suggested, "What if we replace the vitality being eroded?"
Wu Ruxian stiffened, considering the idea. "That would buy time to find the monk we met before. But the amount…"
Long Youliang interrupted without hesitation. "Use as much of mine as you need."
Wu Ruxian's eyes narrowed dangerously. "The amount could be large. There's a chance your cultivation base will be damaged."
Long Youliang smiled sadly, determination in her eyes. "He saved me once. I can't let him die. Besides… doesn't that give you more reason to hurry and find the monk?"
Wu Ruxian nodded slowly. She placed her hand on Zhang yong's wrist and cut the vein before reaching for Long Youliang's hand.
"Right now, vitality can only be transferred through blood connection. Your blood essence will flow into his and give him extra time."
Long Youliang extended her hand. Wu Ruxian cut her wrist as well.
With spiritual energy, Wu Ruxian guided the flowing blood and connected it to Zhang yong's wound, initiating the transfer.
"Ah…" Long Youliang groaned softly as her face gradually turned from pink to pale white.
But she did not stop. She clenched her teeth and shut her eyes.
"Good. Maintain the link. I'll go find the monk now," Wu Ruxian said reassuringly.
Long Youliang nodded, though she could not speak. The pain numbed her.
Wu Ruxian stood, cast one last glance at Zhang yong—and at Long Youliang barely holding on—before rushing away.
Somewhere…
It was so dark that nothing could be seen.
Two eyes appeared quietly, staring into the void. They scanned the surroundings before a black figure stood.
The figure raised its arms calmly—
—and the scene changed.
The darkness transformed into a world of brilliant light and vivid colors, like a golden ocean stretching to the horizon, swallowing everything.
"Hmm…
So peaceful."
Zhang yong's figure appeared quietly, looking around. There was drowsiness in his eyes.
The golden light brought a powerful warmth—like home.
He walked slowly through the golden sea. Waves of light passed through him like he was a ghost, yet they filled him with indescribable comfort and serenity.
"This place is too quiet… So I failed again. And where exactly is this?" he said with a relaxed expression.
"You speak like an old man long past his prime."
A warm voice sounded behind him.
Zhang yong turned calmly. The appearance was familiar—yet something struck his heart. Or rather… Naoto's heart.
"You're very late, Naoto," an old man said gently, his voice like the breeze of dawn.
Zhang yong's body stiffened at the name. No one had spoken that name since he came to this world.
"You… who are you?"
The old man smiled mysteriously as he approached, the world itself seeming to make way for him.
"Have you forgotten me already, my grandson? Heh, I wouldn't be surprised. It's been a long time."
Zhang yong's eyes dimmed slightly before his expression relaxed.
The old man stepped closer and pulled him into an embrace.
"You must be tired, Naoto."
Warmth flowed through Zhang yong's body. Relief followed.
"Yes… Grandpa."
The old man stepped back slightly and looked into his eyes. "You seem troubled. Come, tell this old man everything."
They sat together on the flat ground, watching the golden light above like a sky.
For a moment, Zhang yong didn't know where to begin. But the sincerity in his grandfather's gaze urged him to speak.
"Since I lost you and Grandma, I was lost. Between grief, hatred, and the desire for revenge… In the end, I chose revenge. Yes, I got it—but it brought no satisfaction at all. That was when a new path opened before me.
A new beginning—free of regret, free of pain, free of hatred. But when I awakened here… in the body of a child named Zhang yong, I lost all meaning of being Naoto. As if that person never existed.
Yet even if Naoto no longer exists, I can't forget those who surrounded him. I couldn't forget the past.
In the end, this Zhang yong was born from the genius called Zhang yong and from Naoto drowned in regret—between the one who died and the one who wanted to die. That's how I came to be. So what am I, in your opinion?
In the end, I failed. All that remains is a faint dream… no, more like a desire—to become like you, my ideal."
A faint smile appeared on his face. That desire had been the foundation of someone named Hegai Naoto.
A foolish dream of a foolish person hoping to become someone—someone who wasn't himself.
Yet that same desire became a curse, wounding and suffocating him wherever he went, so long as Hegai Naoto lived.
Still, his admiration for his grandfather made it impossible for him to show his pain.
"I see," the old man said, a pained expression appearing. "You've worn your mask for so long, my child, you forgot you were the one who put it on."
Then his expression hardened slightly. "It's been a long time since you came to this world wanting to glorify me—but I think you're a fool, my grandson."
Zhang yong looked at him in shock—but did not refute the words. He already knew. He was immature.
The old man smiled gently and patted his head.
"You lived through things I never did. Even if you want to be like someone else, you can't. I never lived what you lived, and you never lived in my world. I killed because I had no choice. But you killed by your own will. You always had the choice not to kill—and yet you chose it.
You are not me. And you didn't live as I did. Even if that were the case, you would never surpass me by trying to become me.
The moment you choose what you want to be, you won't simply equal me—you might surpass me. And that's what I want. I want you to go beyond me. Be your own person. You were born to be yourself, not to be me. It's your life. Your choices."
Zhang yong closed his eyes. His body leaned unconsciously toward his grandfather as he let out a long sigh.
"Grandpa… I'm tired."
"I know."
"I don't want to leave."
"You know I'm not real."
"I know."
"And you know this place is woven from your subconscious."
"I know."
"Then do you still want to stay?"
"Yes. For as long as possible. I don't care if it's selfish. Right now… I just want to rest."