Zheng Xie.
The name echoed in Wu Zhu's head like a divine revelation—or a cosmic punchline.
Second son of the revered Zheng Clan, famed throughout the Central Continent for their so-called righteousness. These were the crusaders of the land, the guardians who waged war against demonic cultivators, soul tamperers, and all things deemed "unorthodox."
Their reputation wasn't just local—whispers of their deeds reached even the far continents. In taverns, scrolls, and temples, the name "Zheng" was synonymous with justice.
But if the Zheng Clan were paragons of virtue, then Zheng Xie was the skeleton in their sacred shrine.
Unlike the rest of his family, Zheng Xie wasn't righteous. Not even close. He was the antithesis of everything his house stood for—cruel, manipulative, arrogant to a fault, and more treacherous than a snake soaked in oil. If evil wore silk robes and spoke with a honeyed tongue, its name would be Zheng Xie.
And to make it worse? The man wasn't even talented. At twenty years old, Zheng Xie was merely at the 2nd Layer of Qi Condensation. Below average by cultivation standards.
The original Wu Zhu had already reached the 8th Layer. He was practically a prodigy! But here they were—Wu Zhu, or rather, Earth Wu Zhu, stuck in a broken body inside a shed, piecing together the remnants of a tragic past that was definitely not his own.
And the one who had orchestrated all this? Standing right in front of him, smiling gently, was the same man who had shattered the original Wu Zhu's life like cheap pottery.
'Hold on a damn minute,' Wu Zhu blinked, his thoughts screeching to a halt. 'Doesn't that make him the archetypal arrogant young master? You know, the kind that the protagonist slaps around like a sandbag? And since I transmigrated, that makes me the protagonist!'
A ridiculous laugh nearly burst from his lips. The kind that belonged to someone who'd just discovered they won the lottery. In his head, triumphant music played. Cue spotlight. Applause.
'I'm the damn protagonist! The heavens have chosen me! HAHAHA!'
Suppressing his excitement with the poise of a kid hiding stolen candy, Wu Zhu looked up at Zheng Xie with a grin that barely concealed his inner monologue of "I'm gonna wreck your plotline."
"Brother Xie," he began with mock sincerity, voice a mixture of playful sarcasm and cautious respect, "so you're the one who trapped—or rather, killed—the previous Wu Zhu, right? Are you planning to do the same to me?"
Zheng Xie raised a hand to his chin, eyes narrowing in thought. His brows creased, and for a moment, he looked like he was genuinely considering it. "It depends," he said finally, his voice calm and soft. "I didn't hold much hatred for the original Wu Zhu, except for his audacity. He had the gall to look at my woman. That was his sin. As for you—if you keep your distance from Ling Xue, I won't need to interfere."
He paused, his tone turning light-hearted as he gave Wu Zhu a warm smile that looked almost… sincere?
"Besides, now that you've regained the memories of this body, congratulations. Welcome back, Wu Zhu."
But Wu Zhu was already cooking up an inner monologue worthy of any trashy cultivation novel he had binge-read at 2 AM.
'Distance myself from Ling Xue? Hah! She's clearly the first heroine! You think I'll just ignore her because you told me to? Dream on, side character. Your role is to get smacked around by the plot. And after you? The whole damn heavens will kneel before my protagonist aura! Ahahahaha!'
Of course, he didn't dare say any of that out loud.
Sure, his cultivation realm was higher than Zheng Xie's on paper, but that meant nothing if he didn't know how to fight. He might as well be a lion in theory and a crippled chicken in practice.
After all, in his past life, Wu Zhu had been a complete normie. Fistfights, let alone sword duels, had about as much relevance to him as quantum physics did to a donkey. He had never even seen a real fight in person, let alone participated in one.
So instead, he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, playing the part of a humbled junior. "Brother Xie, don't worry. I'm not that foolish Wu Zhu from before. I understand the disparity between heaven and earth. Sister Ling isn't someone I can even dream of. You have my word—no such thoughts will cross my mind."
He gave his best "I'm harmless, please don't kill me" smile.
Zheng Xie studied him. Hard. His eyes lingered just a moment too long, and there was a glint in them—dark, unreadable. A spark of something… dangerous. And then, just like that, he chuckled.
"I'm relieved to hear that," Zheng Xie said, lips curling into that same unnervingly gentle smile. "The original was too bold for his own good. But Wu Zhu—if you don't mind me saying so—your expression management is terrible."
Wu Zhu blinked. "Huh?"
"That look on your face just now," Zheng Xie continued with a laugh, "it screamed 'I'm totally lying.'"
Wu Zhu's face froze.
'Shit.'
He really needed to work on his poker face.
It wasn't his fault, though! This was just how he was. In his past life, he had never been good at hiding his emotions. His face would always betray him in games, exams, awkward conversations, and now apparently life-or-death cultivation scenarios.
'Damn it, transcendental beauty!' he cursed internally. 'You betray me again!'
He chuckled nervously, doing his best to brush off the tension. "Ah… that? Haha, probably just excitement, you know? New world, new life. Hard not to get a little giddy."
Zheng Xie only smiled deeper, eyes still locked on him. "Of course. Just be careful, Wu Zhu. Not everyone in this world is as forgiving as I am."
For a moment, Wu Zhu exhaled deeply.
'Yeah… that guy is definitely the main villain of the arc. Better stay alive until I get some cheat abilities.'
Wu Zhu cleared his throat dramatically—more for himself than anyone else—and slowly got to his feet. He'd been sitting on the cold floor for a while now, neck tilted up to look at Zheng Xie like some lost disciple staring at a mountain. Honestly, it was starting to cramp.
Dusting off his robes, which were the color of a clear blue sky and definitely in need of a wash, Wu Zhu took a deep breath and stretched his limbs with exaggerated effort, as if he'd just returned from war. "Ahhh... transmigration fatigue. Very real. Very painful."
Zheng Xie, who had been standing calmly at the threshold, suddenly turned his back and took a few steps toward the exit. But just as Wu Zhu assumed their conversation was over, the so-called young master paused and glanced back with a serene expression.
"Wu Zhu," he said, voice like a cultured swordsman in a drama, "let me show you the scenery outside. I'm sure you'll love it. Not many people get to come here… so consider this a gift for your transmigration."
Wu Zhu's ears perked up like a dog hearing the word treat.
Gift? From a young master?
That could only mean one thing—expensive!
His grin stretched wide without even trying. "Oho~ someone's fallen for the protagonist charm, haven't they?"
He eagerly followed behind Zheng Xie, floating on plot armor-induced delusions. 'This is it! He's so charmed by my MC aura that he's showering me with gifts! What's next? Secret inheritance? Hidden realms? A jade beauty falling from the sky?'
He practically skipped after Zheng Xie, humming an imaginary theme song. This protagonist life ain't so bad after all.
As they stepped out of the old shed, Wu Zhu threw a glance back at the structure. It was small, wooden, a little worn at the edges, but neat and sturdy. Somehow, it had the vibe of a place where shady backroom deals happened… or where protagonists conveniently woke up post-transmigration.
There were a few wooden steps leading downward—not enough to justify dramatic descents, but clearly added for aesthetic purposes. Wu Zhu's attention, however, was snatched away the moment he looked up.
The view stopped him in his tracks.
In front of him stretched a plain. Or at least, what should've been a plain. The problem was—after a certain point, the land just... ended. Like the world had decided to delete itself past a certain render distance.
A vast, ethereal fog swallowed the horizon, obscuring the ground from view. It was unsettling, like standing at the edge of a dream. Or a cliff with no bottom.
But the part he could see?
Rows and columns of flowers bloomed in perfect natural harmony. Each petal danced with the gentle breeze, releasing a fragrance so delicate and soothing that Wu Zhu's previous neck pain, soul pain, and emotional damage pain all collectively went, "We're out, peace."
His breath caught. The aroma tickled his senses, warm and cool at the same time. It felt like… peace. Real, bone-deep peace.
"My god... it's like breathing in a lullaby."
Zheng Xie stood with his hands behind his back, like a poetic swordsman staring into the void. "This is the Serene Flora Mountain," he said. "It's quite well known in the Central Continent. The flowers here are especially valued for their soul-soothing effects. Very beneficial for soul cultivators."
Wu Zhu nodded like he understood cultivation politics and flower economics.
Zheng Xie continued, "Naturally, it's a restricted area. No soul cultivators are allowed in. The Zheng Clan watches this place closely. And this part—" he gestured to the garden of tranquility, "—is my personal cultivation zone. A little gift from my father."
'Wait… doesn't that make this a private crime scene?'
Wu Zhu squinted, and a perfectly logical question arose in his totally normal, not-at-all-cowardly brain.
'Did he really bring me to his personal sacred ground to kill me? Like—this is your own turf, bro! Wouldn't that make you the number one suspect?'
The sheer stupidity of it almost made Wu Zhu laugh.
'He really is a young master... Can't escape the curse of villainy. Arrogant, check. Stupid, check. Underestimating the MC, double check.'
Just as Wu Zhu was mentally mocking the script, Zheng Xie's voice cut through the air like a blade of silk. "You're probably wondering why I brought you here, right?" he said with a soft smile, one hand brushing over a flower. "Killing you here… well, it's actually perfect."
Wu Zhu stiffened. Uh-oh.
Zheng Xie didn't bother hiding his intent now. "You're the last known heir of a demonic lineage. If I kill you, it's not murder—it's righteous extermination. I'll be praised. Glorified. I'll personally bring your corpse to the great sects. There'll be no need for investigation."
Wu Zhu audibly sucked in a cold breath. His skin prickled.
'Holy crap. He actually said it. He's not just a villain—he's a well-spoken, calculating villain. That's way worse! And did he practically read my mind? Can he do that?'
Then, as if casually reading a newspaper titled Wu Zhu's Inner Thoughts, Zheng Xie smiled again. "No, I didn't read your mind. You're just bad at hiding your emotions."
Wu Zhu's mouth opened, then closed. He blinked. 'What?'
"I have a knack for reading people," Zheng Xie said, his tone as light as a leaf. "It's easy. Especially when you're as expressive as an open scroll."
He looked over, eyes soft. "You're quite the innocent lad."
'Innocent lad? INNOCENT?!' Wu Zhu screamed inside. 'Is this guy brainwashed by my plot armor?! What kind of gaslighting is this?'
Still, he kept his face neutral and even nodded a little. "Haha, right. That's me. Innocent."
But deep down?
He knew one thing.
If he didn't find a way out soon—this "gift" of scenery might become his funeral procession.
Zheng Xie gazed into the distance, his eyes reflecting the vast sky that stretched beyond the endless horizon. His voice was calm, like a slow-moving stream winding through ancient mountains, unhurried and thoughtful.
"Your world is beautiful, my friend," he said, almost whispering. "Simple… but serene. People there live their tiny lives with such vigor. Even with only a handful of decades to their name, they laugh, love, suffer, and still find meaning in it all. But here—" his voice faltered slightly, "—we chase after Immortality, strength, transcendence. And in the end, we reach nothing."
His expression, silhouetted against the soft petals dancing on the breeze, created a perfect image—elegant, wistful, almost poetic. The floral landscape behind him only emphasized the melancholy in his words. It was the kind of scene you'd find on the final page of a tearjerker novel—the tragic villain who was never truly evil, just broken in all the right places.
Wu Zhu, for once, fell silent. His body stilled, his habitual smirk faded into something softer. He studied Zheng Xie's profile, the gentle droop in his shoulders, the silence between his words. 'Is he… talking about himself?'
It made sense. Zheng Xie didn't have powerful spiritual roots. He was a cultivator stuck in mediocrity. Twenty years old and barely at the Qi Condensation Realm, second layer. For someone born into a prestigious clan, that was almost laughable. A failure. A stain.
Wu Zhu's mind flashed back to Earth. How many times had he felt the same? Not talented enough. Not smart enough. Not chosen enough. It wasn't laziness or lack of effort—it was just that some people were born closer to the sun, and others were forever trapped in the shadows.
Talent… that insurmountable wall that hard work could only ever scratch.
Zheng Xie crouched suddenly, his long fingers gently plucking a flower from the grass. It was golden yellow, bright and full of life, much like a marigold from Earth. He extended it toward Wu Zhu without ceremony.
"This is the Yellow Gold Flower," he said. "It's known for its soul-soothing properties. It reminded me of your world. I thought… maybe you'd like it. You must miss your home, right? Even if you act like an otaku who always wanted to be isekai'd, it doesn't change the fact that everything you knew is gone."
Wu Zhu blinked, startled by the accuracy. He hadn't told anyone that. Not aloud. And yet, here this supposed "villain" was, reading him like a childhood diary.
He took the flower with an awkward nod, bringing it close to his nose. The scent was soft, earthy, warm. Nostalgia bloomed in his chest before he could suppress it.
A small smile curled on his lips.
Zheng Xie noticed. His stance was elegant, hands behind his back, eyes watching. There was no smugness in his gaze, only curiosity. "I've been doing all the talking," he said, chuckling faintly. "How rude of me. Why don't you speak for a bit, Wu Zhu? Tell me what's on your mind. Perhaps about cultivation? Or anything else. I imagine you haven't finished assimilating the original's memories."
Wu Zhu placed the flower carefully on a nearby rock, giving a thoughtful nod. "You're right. I only have a vague idea of how to cultivate. I can probably survive, but… I want to experience the struggle myself. Fall, fail, bleed, and rise. It feels more authentic that way, y'know?"
Zheng Xie nodded. "A noble sentiment. Though, you may change your mind after the first bottleneck."
Wu Zhu laughed, but then Zheng Xie leaned in slightly, his tone shifting.
"Then allow me one question. Just one. I've been fascinated by the tales from your world. The stories of transmigration. Tell me—what exactly is a 'golden finger'? And do you… have one yourself?"
Wu Zhu blinked. Then grinned.
'Oh? Has this guy become a fan of the same novels I read? Wait… don't tell me he became a secret otaku too! No way… this world really is amazing!'
He gave a sheepish shrug. "Of course, I can answer that, Brother Xie. A golden finger is the term we use to describe the special gifts given to protagonists by fate itself—cheats, systems, divine artifacts, whatever. It's Heaven's way of saying, 'You're my favorite.' Basically, a tool to make the chosen ones adapt fast and rise quickly."
Zheng Xie's eyes glinted. "Interesting… And how does Heaven choose these so-called favorites? Is it by karma? Or something deeper?"
Wu Zhu scratched his head. "I… honestly don't know. But if I had to guess… it's random. Like parents who have no clue what their kid will become. Heaven just picks someone and goes, 'You're it.' Some get lucky. Most don't. And no, I don't have a system."
Zheng Xie smiled subtly. "A fair analogy. But aren't we all children of Heaven then? Yet only those who truly listen and follow the 'parent's will' become favored. So perhaps… it's not random at all. And yes—I guessed you didn't have one."
Wu Zhu chuckled. "You're oddly philosophical today, Brother Xie."
Zheng Xie looked away, his smile deepening. "It's rare to have someone to speak to about such things."
Wu Zhu felt a sliver of genuine empathy in that moment. Perhaps Zheng Xie wasn't just some arrogant young master destined to fall. Maybe he was—
Suddenly, Wu Zhu's knees buckled.
His vision blurred. His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed with a heavy thud onto the flower-covered earth. Pain spiked up his spine, his muscles locking up like iron clamps. Foam dribbled from the corners of his mouth.
Panic surged. 'W-What the hell?! I can't move! I—I didn't even sense an attack!'
A shadow loomed over him.
He couldn't lift his head, but he didn't need to. There was only one person here.
Zheng Xie.
That villainous, treacherous bastard of a young master.
Zheng Xie stood tall above him, his expression unreadable. There was no cruelty, no joy—only calm detachment. His tone was soft.
"Sorry, Wu Zhu. You were just a little too honest."