A cold rain fell over River City, gray and relentless—perfectly matching Jiang Che's mood.
"Jiang Che, let's break up. You can't give me the life I want. Your little scholarship? It wouldn't even pay for one of my lipsticks."
Su Qing, the campus beauty, held a delicate transparent umbrella, her eyes as indifferent as if she were staring at a stray cat by the roadside. Behind her leaned Lin Zihao, the young heir of the Lin Group, lounging against a flashy Ferrari with a mocking grin.
"You hear that, poor boy?" Lin Zihao sneered. "Stay away from Su Qing from now on. Otherwise, in River City, I'll make sure you can't even find a place to haul bricks."
Jiang Che clenched his fists, nails digging deep into his palms. He didn't scream or argue. He simply turned and walked away. In an era ruled by money and power, the efforts of someone at the bottom were as fragile as a sheet of scrap paper.
As he wandered aimlessly through the streets, his battered old phone suddenly vibrated violently in his pocket.
"Dad?" Jiang Che answered, his voice hoarse.
"Che… hurry… come back to the village!" his father Jiang Dashan cried on the other end. "Your grandpa… he's not going to make it. He keeps calling your name. Says there's something 'destined'—something he must hand to you himself!"
The tremble in his father's voice made Jiang Che's mind buzz.
Grandpa?
In Jiang Che's memories, Old Man Jiang was a quiet barefoot doctor who spent his days staring blankly at the ruins of an old Daoist shrine in the mountains. Forgetting his heartbreak, Jiang Che rushed to catch a late-night bus back to the remote mountain village—Kaoshan Village.
…
Late night. Kaoshan Village. The Jiang family's old house.
The cramped clay room was thick with the smell of dry tobacco. When Jiang Che pushed the door open, his grandfather lay half-reclined on the heated brick bed, his face waxy and pale, breath shallow. But when his cloudy eyes landed on Jiang Che, they suddenly shone with an uncanny brilliance.
"Che… you finally came back."
"Grandpa!" Jiang Che dropped to his knees beside the bed, eyes red.
With trembling hands, the old man pulled a bundle wrapped in oilcloth from beneath his pillow. He unwrapped it layer by layer with solemn care. Inside lay a yellowed, heavily worn handwritten book.
On the cover were only two characters: Dao De Jing.
"Take it." His grandfather's voice suddenly turned stern and commanding. "Our Jiang family has guarded this book for one hundred and twenty-five generations. Remember—what's inside isn't words. It's the Dao. No matter what you see in the future, don't be afraid. It's the destiny your ancestors left for you."
With those final words, it was as if all life drained from him. His hand fell limp. His eyes slowly closed.
"Grandpa!"
Jiang Che's anguished cry shattered the stillness of the mountain village.
That night, he kept vigil beside the coffin, clutching the Dao De Jing tightly to his chest. At some point, exhaustion claimed him, and he fell into a deep sleep.
…
In his dream, everything was an endless white void.
Jiang Che found himself standing in empty space. Before him sat an old man with flowing white hair, dressed in a green Daoist robe, radiating an otherworldly aura. Beneath him lay a calm blue ox, slowly chewing cud.
"Jiang Che, descendant of the one hundred and twenty-sixth generation… you stand before the Dao Ancestor," the old man said, his voice echoing like thunder, shaking Jiang Che's very soul.
"W-Who… who are you?" Jiang Che stammered.
"I am Li Er," the old man replied with a faint smile. "The world calls me… Laozi."
With a wave of his hand, the handwritten Dao De Jing burst apart into countless golden characters that surged into Jiang Che's forehead like a blazing torrent.
"The Dao that can be spoken is not the eternal Dao…"
Pain exploded in Jiang Che's mind. A vast force flooded his body, reshaping flesh and bone. His skeleton crackled like popping beans, every inch of him reforged.
[Ding! Dao Ancestor inheritance detected. Host awakening: Sacred Dao Body!]
[Innate True Qi infusion complete. All meridians fully opened!]
"My legacy has been severed for a thousand years," Laozi said calmly. "From this day forward, you are my only disciple in the mortal world. Go—use this Dao to cleanse the corruption of this age."
The old man laughed three times. His figure transformed into a beam of white light and shot straight into Jiang Che's mind.
Jiang Che's eyes snapped open.
Dawn light filtered through the window. His entire body was covered in a layer of black, foul-smelling grime—the impurities expelled during his transformation. He clenched his fist and felt warm energy coursing endlessly through his veins. His eyes flashed with brilliance; he could see through the wall, even the dew trembling on the leaves outside.
More astonishing still—in the depths of his consciousness, the white-haired elder sat cross-legged.
"Kid, stop staring like an idiot," Laozi's voice echoed in his head with a hint of annoyance. "Since you're my disciple now, quit looking like a clueless bumpkin. That Su Qing and Lin Zihao? In front of the true Dao, they're nothing but mayflies you could crush at will."
Jiang Che rose to his feet, feeling utterly reborn. The confusion in his eyes faded, replaced by unshakable resolve.
"Grandpa… the secret you protected your whole life—I'll carry it forward."
He stepped outside and casually formed a simple hand seal—Dust-Cleansing Technique. A faint glow flickered at his fingertips. Instantly, the grime vanished without a trace. His presence turned refined and transcendent, like an immortal who had descended to the mortal world.
River City was about to see his return.
But this time… Jiang Che would no longer be the pathetic, desperate loser he once was.