The sun scorched down on the muddy river estuary, reflecting a dazzling golden light on the turbid water. The air was humid and heavy, filled with the smell of saltwater, decaying vegetation, and the ancient scent of reptiles. Standing in the ankle-deep, biting mud was a man.
His name was Huang Feng. He was twenty-four years old, but his eyes—his ordinary dark brown eyes—held an unusual light. Not a light of wisdom or joy, but a nearly wild glint of indifference, like embers smoldering beneath a pile of ash. His clothes were tattered, smeared with mud and fresh, dark red stains. Around him, in the water and on the muddy land, lay bodies—three, four, five—giant estuarine crocodiles. Some were motionless, others flailed in their death throes, their long jaws gaping in final agony.
But that wasn't the problem. The problem was the ones still alive.
There were nine of them left. Their glassy, stone-like eyes regarded him with ancient hatred. Thick saliva dripped from their teeth-filled mouths. One, the largest, with a body five meters long and skin like muddy armor, let out a low hiss that made the air vibrate.
Huang Feng smiled. Not a smile of victory or courage, but a simple, almost innocent smile, like a child discovering an interesting new toy. In his hand, he gripped a crude stick, its end sharpened into a lethal point, stained with crocodile blood and mucus.
"Again?" he murmured, his voice hoarse yet flat. "I thought we were almost done."
The alpha crocodile didn't answer, of course. It surged forward, its massive body moving with surprising speed, splattering mud in all directions. Its jaws gaped wide, ready to crush bone.
For most people, this would be a living nightmare. For Huang Feng, it was merely the logical sequence of his choice to walk along this estuary because "it looked fun."
He didn't dodge. Instead, he lunged forward, his body moving with unnatural agility. His stick stabbed, not towards the eyes or the expected soft underbelly, but towards the corner of the crocodile's open mouth, trying to pry it open wider. The wood snapped with a loud crack. Sharp teeth tore into Huang Feng's arm, ripping flesh to reveal white bone for a split second before it was flooded with red.
He didn't scream. He grunted, more annoyed than in pain. With his severely injured hand, he grabbed the reptile's lower jaw, his fingers gripping tightly, and with a hoarse cry more akin to the shriek of a wild beast than a human, he put his entire weight and strength into tearing it apart.
It didn't work, of course. But it was enough to make the crocodile stumble, shock and pain forcing it to release its grip.
It was a chaotic dance of death. Huang Feng was no martial arts expert. He was a storm of impulsive and brutal movement. He jumped onto the crocodile's back, avoided the bone-snapping whip of its tail, stabbed with the fragments of his stick into the gaps between the crocodile's armored plates, dug with his bloody fingers. He rolled in the mud, avoiding decisive bites, sometimes too slow, leaving new wounds on his body.
One by one, their numbers dwindled. A smaller crocodile tried to attack from the side, and Huang Feng, with a mad reaction, instead shoved his body into the open mouth, preventing it from closing its jaws fully, while he pummeled its snout with his fist repeatedly until the cartilage crunched.
Two hours. Or maybe three. Time lost meaning in this pulsating violence. Finally, only he and the severely wounded alpha crocodile remained. The reptile's eyes now emitted caution, even a primitive fear of the creature before it that refused to die obediently.
Huang Feng stood staggering, breathing heavily. His body was a patchwork of wounds and bruises. Blood flowed from injuries on his arm, his leg, and his torso. But the smile was still on his face, though now weaker.
"The last one," he murmured. "Let's finish this."
The crocodile charged for the last time. Huang Feng, with his remaining strength, leaped—not to the side, but upwards, landing unsteadily on the reptile's head. He plunged what remained of his bloody stick into the crocodile's eye.
The beast went berserk, writhing and rolling in horrific agony. Huang Feng was thrown off, his body hitting a mangrove tree trunk with a dull, sickening impact. He heard, more than felt, his ribs crack.
He lay in the mud, looking at the blue sky beginning to fade to orange through the tree canopy. The alpha crocodile, blind and dying, crawled away. The sounds around him muted. He could see, scattered around him, thirteen motionless crocodile bodies.
Thirteen. Out of fourteen.
"Almost," he whispered to the unhearing sky. Then, darkness swept over him, gentle and final.
---
Consciousness returned to him not with pain, but with absolute silence.
He opened his eyes—or at least, felt his visual awareness return—and found himself in a boundless room. No floor, no ceiling, no walls. Just a uniform, empty, void gray in every direction. No sound, no sensation of temperature, no smell. It was a perfect emptiness.
Huang Feng observed his surroundings, not surprised or afraid. His usual casual curiosity awoke.
"No crocodiles here," he said, and his voice was swallowed without an echo.
As his words faded, a rectangular panel, glowing with a pale blue light, appeared before him. It was made of pure energy, with clear, easy-to-read text.
[System: Initialization complete. Welcoming Selected Soul, Huang Feng.]
Huang Feng blinked his consciousness. "A panel?"
[System: Correct. I am the Reincarnation System Interface, tasked with guiding selected souls towards their new lives.]
"So I'm dead," said Huang Feng, not a question, but a statement.
[System: Confirmed. Cause of Death: Injuries sustained in combat against Crocodylus porosus. Number Defeated: 13. Performance above average for biological species 'Human'.]
"One short," Huang Feng retorted casually.
[System: ...]
The panel seemed to pause for a moment before continuing.
[System: As a Selected Soul with noteworthy achievements, you are granted the right to choose your path of reincarnation. You can be reborn as anything you wish.]
"Hmm," grunted Huang Feng. "Like what?"
The panel immediately brightened, displaying a shimmering list of noble choices.
[System: System Recommendations are based on your soul's potential:]
[- The Unbeatable Expert in the Modern World]
[- A God in a Divine Realm, Ruling Heaven and Earth]
[- A Legendary Swordmaster, Wielder of the Holy Sword]
[- An Archmage, Master of Elements and Magic]
[- An Emperor of a Great Empire, Leading Millions of Souls]
[- Or other powerful options according to our catalog...]
Huang Feng listened, his expression unchanged. He was unimpressed. He scratched his chin—or the sensation equivalent to a chin in this soul form—as if considering ice cream flavors.
"Centipede," he said finally, his voice flat and sure.
[System: ... Processing request... 'Centipede'. Confirmation: Did you mean 'Centipede Deity'? Or perhaps 'Heavenly Centipede'? Or one of the other powerful fantasy variants, such as 'Void-Devouring Myriapod' or 'Thousand-Legged Demonic Serpent'? The System possesses an extensive database—]
"No," interrupted Huang Feng. "Centipede. The ordinary kind. The many-legged, brown one that lives under rocks. That one."
The silence in the gray room grew deeper, denser. The blue panel flickered erratically, as if experiencing severe logical disruption.
[System: Request unclear. Re-analyzing... 'Ordinary Centipede'. Classification: Arthropoda, Chilopoda. Threat Level: Negligible. Basic Survival: Low. Development Potential: Almost None. Confirmation: Do you, Selected Soul Huang Feng, sincerely wish to reincarnate as this low-level creature? This is highly unrecommended. Estimated death rate within the first 24 hours is 99.98%.]
"Yes," Huang Feng answered without hesitation. "Sounds interesting. I wonder what it's like to have all those legs."
[System: ...]
The panel seemed to freeze. Its light fluctuated wildly.
[System: Considering your life record, this choice is inconsistent with psychological profile... accessing past data...]
"Just do it," urged Huang Feng, sounding almost bored. "I don't have all day. Or... forever. Whatever this is."
[System: Are you sure?] The words on the panel this time seemed almost desperate.
"Very sure."
There was no further warning, no countdown. The gray space vanished in an instant.
The first sensation was moisture. Damp and cold touched his entire body. The second sensation was limitation—his body was very small, very constrained. He opened his eyes—many eyes—and the world was a blurry kaleidoscope of green and brown. He could feel the humus soil beneath him, cold and rough. He could smell the rich earth, the rot of decaying leaves, and the danger lurking in every corner.
He was a centipede. Probably ten centimeters long. His segmented body felt fragile. He tried to move his "legs"—all of them—and felt a wave of rhythmic, alien motion flow through his body. It was strange. It was new.
Before his new consciousness, the system panel appeared again, though now it seemed slightly dimmer, as if ashamed to be associated with him.
[System: Transmigration complete. Location: Verdant Primal Forest. New Form: Scolopendra subspinipes (Common Forest Centipede). System Goal: To assist the User in becoming the strongest in this universe, despite... current form's constraints.]
Huang Feng, the centipede, ignored the voice in his head. He was busy trying to coordinate his many legs to turn over. It was a complicated task.
[System: As a new User, you are entitled to a 'Starter Pack'. This contains essential rewards for your survival and growth. Do you wish to open it? [Yes] / [No]]
The centipede stopped moving. His unconventional mind—now housed in an arthropod's nervous system—worked.
"No," replied Huang Feng's conscious voice through the panel.
[System: ... 'No'? Plea— Explanation: The Starter Pack is essential! Without it, your survival probability is below 0.001%! It includes 'Iron Skin Level F', 'Basic Venom', and the Skill [Danger Detection]!]
"I'll open it," said Huang Feng the centipede, "after I defeat a wolf."
This time, the panel completely went dark for a few seconds before flickering back on with a noticeable wobble.
[System: Analyzing User's statement... 'Defeat a wolf'. Parameters: Forest Wolf (Canis lupus). Length: 1.5-2 meters. Weight: 50-80 kg. Threat Level: Lethal. Strength Comparison: Impossible. Request illogical. System cannot process.]
"I don't care. That's my goal," Huang Feng stubbornly argued.
There was another pause, longer than before. The System seemed to be considering something, perhaps the option to format itself.
[System: The System has analyzed the User's decisions and soul nature. To... facilitate the adaptation process, the System will bestow a Title upon the User.]
A new icon appeared in the corner of the panel, shaped like a simple medal.
[Title Bestowed: 'A Very Crazy Man']
[Title Effect: Calms the user's mind, grants Mental Clarity +5, Sanity +5, and a tendency to make logical and reasonable decisions. Congratulations!] The System's voice sounded almost relieved, as if it had finally found a solution to the problem.
The Title shone, and a subtle energy tried to seep into Huang Feng's consciousness. It attempted to dampen the fire of his madness, to build walls of logic and caution. It was like trying to extinguish lava with a water spray.
The energy touched the core of his being—and faded, useless, like a drop of water on a smoldering hot stone.
[System Warning: Effect of Title 'A Very Crazy Man' failed to activate. User's resistance to mental modification: ABSOLUTE.] The System's voice now sounded flat, almost resigned.
Huang Feng the centipede chuckled, a strange sensation in his new form. "You should have known my background. What kind of 'sane' title would be useful to me?"
Detecting the rhetorical question as a request for information, and driven by its own confusion, the System accessed its deep database. The panel's light shone brightly, projecting a series of images and text directly into Huang Feng's consciousness—a flashback of the life that defined "madness".
Flashback: The Making of a Madman
Age 6
The scenery in the Siguniang Mountain (Four Girls Mountain) area of Sichuan was breathtaking. Its towering, perpetually snow-capped peaks formed a dramatic silhouette against the blue sky. Huang Feng's seemingly normal family was on vacation. Little Huang Feng, with his dinosaur backpack, stood between his parents who were taking photos. His bright eyes weren't interested in the magnificent scenery; they were locked onto a flock of gray ground-jays hopping among the rocks.
While his parents were busy setting up the perfect photo composition, he followed the birds, crawling among the low rhododendron bushes. He went further and further away, drawn by a rock crevice that seemed to be the birds' nest. In an instant, the thick fog common to these mountain regions descended rapidly, obscuring the hiking trail and muffling the sound of his parents calling his name.
Instead of crying, he felt curious, exploring the rocky area with his small hands. Emerging from the enveloping fog was a large, muscular Tibetan Mastiff. These guardian dogs, integral to Tibetan and nomadic cultures, are not tame pets. This one, perhaps separated from its pack or owner, seemed wild and agitated. Its thick black fur was matted by the misty dew, its sharp eyes emitted a primitive wariness, and thick saliva dripped from its wide mouth. It growled, a low sound that vibrated the thin high-altitude air.
Any other six-year-old would have run, or frozen in fear. Little Huang Feng bent down and picked up a stone just large enough for him to grip.
The dog lunged with surprising momentum for its size. Huang Feng didn't run. He stepped aside clumsily, almost tripping over a root, and threw the stone. It hit the dog's muscular shoulder with a dull 'thud'. The dog howled, more angry than hurt, and lunged again. This time, it succeeded in grabbing the child's chubby arm. Sharp canine teeth pierced soft flesh, and blood immediately soaked his jacket sleeve.
Little Huang Feng, instead of trying to break free, yelled—not a scream of fear, but more like a cry of anger—and leaped towards the dog, his free small hand clawing and slapping at the dog's face and eyes in a panic. It was a chaotic, brutal scuffle between the raw power of a tough guardian animal and the pure defiance of a child who knew no fear. He was shaken, injured, but never stopped fighting, his angry, confused shouts echoing in the silent fog.
Finally, a search party—including a local guide and his panicked parents—who heard the commotion and shouts arrived and with difficulty drove the dog away. Little Huang Feng was rushed to a small clinic in the nearest village with serious injuries, including deep bite wounds on his arm and bruises all over his body. When a nurse, her face still full of bewilderment, asked if he was scared, he just looked at her with eyes that still blazed and said, "The dog was naughty. I almost won."
Age 8
He was walking home from school alone, as usual. Two men in a van approached, offering candy. Not an original scenario.
"Is the candy spicy?" asked little Huang Feng.
The confused man shook his head. Huang Feng shrugged. "Not interested then."
When they tried to grab him, he didn't scream for help. He immediately bit the man's hand with his small front teeth, biting down until he tasted blood. The man shrieked and let go. The second man grabbed him from behind. Using a move he'd seen on TV, Huang Feng stomped on the man's foot and slammed his head backward, hitting the man's nose.
It wasn't enough. They were bigger and stronger. They threw him into the van, but he kept fighting, biting, scratching, and hitting. He managed to grab a phone from one man's pocket and threw it out the open window, attracting a passerby's attention.
The chaos drew attention. Police arrived. Huang Feng was found inside the messy van, with a broken arm and a bruised face, but the two kidnappers were also injured—one with a torn ear, the other with a broken nose. At the police station, while his parents were hysterical, he calmly described what happened, concluding, "They weren't strong enough. I'll be stronger next time."
Age 12
His parents, now desperate and installing all sorts of locks and alarms, thought they could finally control him. They were wrong.
Huang Feng, now twelve, had been observing. He knew how his parents booked plane tickets online. He memorized his father's credit card details. One morning, he packed a backpack with water, some chocolate bars, and a map of Brazil he printed from the school library. He sneaked out before dawn, took a taxi to the airport, and, with mesmerizing confidence and a small lie about joining a "family tour", he successfully boarded a flight to São Paulo.
From there, using money he took from the credit card, he took buses and taxis, asking people with sign language and a pocket dictionary, until he reached the edge of the Amazon River.
Without hesitation, he paid a local guide with his last cash to take him to the "wildest" part of the river. When his guide was off guard, Huang Feng, in his swimwear, plunged into the churning brown water.
He swam, not with fear, but with awe. He dove, opening his eyes in the turbid water, watching strange fish swim by. He was unaware of the danger lurking in the depths.
It was a Green Anaconda, a six-meter-long giant disguised as a log. Quickly and silently, the snake coiled around him, squeezing his chest with crushing force. His ribs cracked. The air in his lungs was trapped.
For Huang Feng, this wasn't a terrifying moment approaching death. It was a fight. He struggled fiercely, biting the snake's tough skin with his teeth, trying to poke the snake's eyes with his fingers. The world grew dark at the edges, but he didn't stop. It was his wild tenacity that saved him. His muffled struggles and the churning splash of water attracted the attention of a group of passing tourists in a boat. They rushed over, and with the help of the terrified guide, managed to pry the snake's grip loose and pull the nearly drowned, broken-boned boy into the boat.
Age 14
Two years later, he did it again. This time, the destination was more specific: Snake Island, Ilha da Queimada Grande, off the coast of Brazil—home to one of the world's deadliest snakes, Bothrops insularis.
His plan was more elaborate. He stowed away on a cargo ship that brought him near the island, then used a small emergency raft he stole to reach the shore. He spent six hours in that hell. He saw snakes on every branch, on every rock. He was bitten once, on the calf. With his remaining strength, he tied a tourniquet from his torn shirt and kept walking, his mind fogged by venom, but his determination unshaken.
He was finally found semi-conscious by a daring group of herpetology researchers visiting the island. They were both amazed and horrified to find a boy in such a place. They injected him with antivenom and took him away. His parents, in China, were nearly driven insane with worry.
Age 17
By this age, he was nearly impossible to confine. He had studied navigation and sailing. With money saved from odd jobs, he bought an old, decrepit small sailboat. Without telling anyone, he set sail alone for the Southern Indian Ocean, one of the world's most dangerous waters.
He faced raging storms, building-sized waves, and periods of calm that drove him mad. He caught fish to eat, collected rainwater to drink. He had no functioning radio. For a full month, he was lost to the world, a boy battling the ocean.
When he finally washed ashore on a remote beach in East Africa, his boat wrecked, his body emaciated and sunburned, he was still alive. Local authorities repatriated him, baffled by how he had survived.
Age 18
The peak of all his reckless adventures. With basic climbing gear he bought online, he sneaked away and traveled to Mount Everest Base Camp. Not as part of an official expedition, but as an unauthorized solo climber.
He climbed higher than he should have, driven by an unstoppable urge to see what was up there. But the mountain cannot be conquered by madness alone. The altitude, lack of oxygen, and freezing weather finally defeated him. He collapsed on a route, his body beginning to freeze, his breath ragged.
Luck—or perhaps a fate that refused to claim him—was on his side. A group of experienced climbers descending found him, miraculously still alive. They gave him oxygen and laboriously brought him down, saving his life for the umpteenth time.
The flashback faded. Huang Feng the centipede was still on the forest floor, his small body motionless as the memories flowed.
The system panel was barely glowing.
[System: ... Analysis of historical data complete. Level of 'Sanity' in lifetime record: Consistently below detectable levels. The Title 'A Very Crazy Man' is a statement of fact, not a status that can be bestowed or altered. The System... understands now.]
Its voice, if it could have a tone, would sound hollow, empty, and utterly overwhelmed.
Huang Feng the centipede finally managed to turn his body over. He began to crawl, each of his many legs moving in an instinctively coordinated rhythm, carrying him forward into the dark shadows and unseen sounds of the forest.
His goal was set. He would open his Starter Pack after he defeated a wolf.
And somewhere within its rigid system logic, a single question echoed, filled with disbelief and something akin to horrified awe:
[System: How is this possible...]