The air at the end of the year was icy and damp—bitterly cold in the dead of night.
At the base of a hill on the northern side of Holy Soul Village, a chill mountain breeze swept through the swaying bamboo grove. Leaves rustled in the darkness. Tap tap—a small, shadowy figure moved against the wind, its scent carried away by the air, and its light footsteps masked by the whispering leaves.
With a flick of the wrist, a sharp-edged pebble shot out.
"Whimper..." came a muffled yelp from behind a low bamboo hut, followed by silence. The sound came from a bamboo doghouse.
"Merchants chase profit; few act out of conscience. Zhu Wu, that hundred-year-old wolfbane is fatally poisonous. If left in your hands to be sold to some medicine dealer, who knows which vile person might use it to craft poison, harming innocents? I've come tonight to take it—just in time to prevent such a tragedy." Tang San murmured inwardly.
"Rest assured, I will use it for righteous purposes—to punish evil and uphold justice. That way, it will serve a meaningful end."
To Tang San, tools like poisons or hidden weapons weren't inherently evil—it depended on how they were used.
Used by the righteous, they become righteous. Used by the wicked, they become wicked.
And punishing evil and promoting good—that was the very mission and duty upon which the Tang Sect was founded.
With a light step, he leapt several times, landing quietly behind the yard. He bent down and uncovered a clump of wolfbane from beneath a bamboo tray tucked into the corner of the vegetable garden.
Without hesitation, he turned and disappeared into the night.
The Next Morning
"Tang San, I f** your whore mother!*" Zhu Wu stood at the back of his yard, face dark as thunder, grinding his teeth.
A hundred-year-old wolfbane could fetch at least five gold soul coins from an apothecary. For a poor village household, that was a small fortune. More than that, he had found the herb himself—using his rare innate sense to explore the mountains all day before spotting it on a steep cliff. He wasn't even six years old, yet he'd climbed hundreds of meters to harvest it. It was a life-risking endeavor.
Now stolen—how could he not be furious?
What enraged him even more was that this wasn't the first time Tang San had stolen from him.
"Da Huang didn't bark!" A sudden thought struck him. He rushed to the doghouse, knelt down, reached into the shadows, and gently shook a stiff paw. Rigid and cold.
His eyes instantly reddened. He pulled the body out. Blood had long since dried into a dark scab below the ear.
Beside the cold corpse lay a pebble, its pointed tip still stained with blood.
"Tang San, you motherless bastard, I f** your mother!*"
He couldn't stop himself from spewing curses again.
Once more—and so accurately—Tang San had struck Da Huang's ear. And he only ever stole poisonous herbs. Who else had that skill and motive?
To confirm his suspicions last time, Zhu Wu had secretly followed Tang San up the mountain and found transplanted herbs on the peak—including the very ones stolen from his yard.
As a transmigrator who had read the original novel, Zhu Wu knew exactly what Tang San was capable of and where he came from. He just wanted poison for his hidden weapons but was too poor to buy any—so he resorted to theft. Wasn't that how he obtained the Mysterious Heaven Treasure Record too?
"Some habits just don't change. I can't believe I included his family when I distributed seeds from my first harvest to help the villagers earn extra. That's how his house even started getting extra income. And this is the thanks I get—targeted and repeatedly robbed."
Zhu Wu understood that in a harsh cultivation world, stealing spiritual herbs and rare treasures to strengthen oneself wasn't unusual—he had read enough xianxia novels in his previous life to know that. Still, it depended on the situation. Stealing from strangers or soul beasts? Fine. But stealing from someone who had helped you? That was just low.
"Ungrateful mutt, worse than a pig or a dog." Every time he remembered being stolen from, his anger flared.
"Cough, cough."
A light cough broke the silence.
Zhu Wu instinctively turned his head.
Inside the bamboo hut, a stooped old man with snow-white hair and a walking stick slowly made his way to the backyard.
Zhu Gang, 71 years old—his grandfather, the man who had kindly taken him in.
Zhu Wu had been born with memories from his past life. Many things he'd overheard as a child only made sense after he learned this world's language. And once he did—he realized just how melodramatic his life really was.
"Little Wu, another break-in?"
Zhu Gang already knew some of their herbs had gone missing before. His hearing might have deteriorated with age, but he could clearly hear the anger in Zhu Wu's voice. The likely target? That precious herb they'd gotten yesterday.
This blood debt must be repaid, Tang San. Just you wait. Zhu Wu took a deep breath and tried to calm his rage as he picked up Da Huang's lifeless body.
Their backyard was small, and he soon reached the gate.
When Zhu Gang saw the yellow dog in Zhu Wu's arms, his eyes welled with tears, and his sigh was heavy with sorrow.
"Alas... people these days, so heartless, so heartless..."
"Don't worry, Grandpa. Heaven sees all. What goes around comes around. That beast—born of a mother but clearly raised by no one—won't meet a good end." Zhu Wu comforted him, then looked down at the dog. "As for Da Huang, I'll butcher him later and bring some to Grandpa Jack's house. It's almost New Year's, and our pig's about ready for slaughter too. Might as well ask Grandpa Jack to help arrange it—maybe even start selling portions early."
In his past life, Zhu Wu had majored in animal husbandry and veterinary science, with his family running a pig farm. Straight from graduation to employment.
He was a professional at raising pigs.
His knowledge of medicinal herbs came from his studies as well. Even though modern veterinary science leaned heavily toward Western medicine, there were still courses on traditional Chinese treatments. Some of the ancestral remedies were still quite effective, and he had taken them seriously.
Take Gelsemium elegans, for instance—a.k.a. heartbreak grass. In his hometown, it was commonly used for deworming livestock. In small amounts, it even promoted growth and increased appetite. Locals called it "pig ginseng."
In fact, Gelsemium was the very first herb he'd discovered in this world, and it helped him earn his initial startup funds.
And once he had enough money? Naturally, he bought a piglet to raise for household needs—and some extra meat for the table.
"Alright," Zhu Gang sighed again and nodded.
They'd grown attached to Da Huang, but in a poor family like theirs, meat was a luxury. It would be a waste to bury him.
"Take more with you. Grandpa Jack helped us a lot over the years—we can't forget that. And don't forget the Wang family's daughter-in-law, the one who used to nurse you..."
"Alright, I'll go make breakfast. We're all poor folk, alas, what a world..." He glanced once more at Da Huang and shuffled off toward the kitchen with a sigh.
After breakfast, Zhu Wu finished preparing the dog's body.
Then he tidied up, entered the bedroom, opened the window, and began his morning routine—practicing the Eight Movements of the Vajra Longevity Technique under the rising sun.
He had learned the Vajra Longevity Technique from online videos of Master Zhang Zhi Shun back in his previous life.
Running a pig farm meant constant physical labor. After years, it had taken a toll. Complaining to his alumni group once had earned him a video recommendation. He started practicing at just over two years old in this life—and had stuck with it for nearly four years now.
The technique had two parts. The external Vajra Technique focused on physical movement and was best practiced at sunrise. The internal Longevity Technique focused on cultivating the spirit and was suited to quiet, moonlit nights. Morning Vajra, evening Longevity. Yin and Yang in harmony. Or so the encyclopedia had said. There were even descriptions like "refining essence into Qi," "transforming Qi into spirit," and "unity with heaven."
As a modern man, he didn't buy into any of that spiritual nonsense. But he had to admit—consistent practice really did improve his health and immunity. He got sick much less often.
That held true in this world too. He hadn't noticed any "inner strength" developing, but his body felt great.
Regardless, this was the only "technique" he'd brought with him into this world, and it was worth practicing for health benefits alone.
"External energy stirs internal energy. Internal energy moves external energy." He still remembered that line from the website. He wasn't sure if this world had "inner energy," but it certainly had spiritual energy—and soul power.
Honestly, part of him hoped that with diligent training, he might awaken innate soul power like Tang San.
That said, even if he didn't practice, he probably still had soul power. After all—
Only extraordinary people get reincarnated.
Not to mention, his damn scumbag father… came from that place.
He had once tried to teach the technique to Grandpa Zhu Gang, but the old man's back was too hunched to manage. He had to give up.
"I'm heading out, Grandpa." After finishing his routine, Zhu Wu slung the basket of dog meat onto his back and headed out.
Before long, he arrived at Old Jack's house.
"Don't worry, Little Wu," Old Jack said, angry after hearing what happened. "Whoever did this, I'll find them and make them pay! This kind of thing disgraces not only the village—but me, as the village chief!"
"He's right. We can't let this slide!" Old Jack's wife said furiously. "I'll ask around later today. I want to know which shameless little bastard would do something so vile!"
"I'll keep an ear out too," added Old Jack's sturdy son with a frown.
Even the daughter-in-law looked indignant.
But unfortunately, it would all be for nothing.
Who was Tang San? The Mysterious Heaven Treasure Record wasn't even passed down to his own father. The moment he got the wolfbane, he'd definitely use it to coat his precious Tang Sect hidden weapons—not sell it for a quick buck.
If a poor household suddenly got rich and started spending, someone would notice. But Tang San? He cut off all traces from the start.
I'll have to take revenge with my own hands, Zhu Wu thought grimly.
"Thank you, Grandpa Jack. Thank you, Uncle Jerry..." he said politely, still grateful.
"As the village chief, this is the least I can do," Old Jack said, waving it off. Then, changing the topic, he added, "Little Wu, based on the time, the Deacon from the Spirit Hall should be arriving soon to conduct the Spirit Awakening Ceremony."
"You're old enough now. You'll be participating too. Let's wait until after the ceremony to slaughter the pig. Awakening your spirit is a major life event. If you're lucky enough to be born with soul power—it'll be a cause for celebration."
"It's bad luck to kill before a blessing."
Superstition exists in every world... Zhu Wu sighed inwardly but nodded obediently.
After a bit more polite conversation, he took his leave.
New story, —thank you for reading!
(End of Chapter)