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Chapter 2: The Image of Conquest

The head of the city enforcement squad, leading a few officers, pursued relentlessly. "Kid, if you’ve got guts, don’t run!"

Duan Mingyu rubbed his arm, sore from flicking pebbles, and retorted, "If you’ve got guts, don’t chase!"

Then he glanced back at the city enforcers not far behind.

"Stop! Damn it, stop... there’s a vehicle ahead!"

"Do you think I’m a pig? Why should I stop and let you beat me? What did you say? A vehicle? Damn, this is bad!"

A loud crash— a huge truck barreled straight into Duan Mingyu.

He seemed to be soaring through the sky, his life’s attachments fading away. Alone in this world, his mind drifted to his ever-hopeful, unwavering girlfriend. He sighed deeply, thinking that now he wouldn’t be a burden to her anymore. As his last thread of attachment slipped away, Duan Mingyu slowly closed his eyes...

The fourth year of the Zhonghe era, reign of Emperor Xizong of the Tang Dynasty. Bianliang City.

A shooting star blazed across the sky like a second sun. It streaked like thunder, trailing a long tail of sparks, like a sharp arrow aimed straight at Bianliang. In an instant, lightning stirred the earth’s fire; a house ten li south of the city collapsed into ruins.

Amid the rubble lay a figure, ragged and weak, his spirit lost in boundless darkness. Something unexplainable by science was happening within him: two souls devouring each other, each vying for control over the body.

One soul was the body's original inhabitant; the other was Duan Mingyu’s, who should have died in the accident.

After a long time, Duan Mingyu’s soul successfully consumed the other, gaining some of its memories as well.

This was late Tang Dynasty, and Duan Mingyu had, against all odds, managed to transmigrate. Surprisingly, the body’s original owner was also named Duan Mingyu—what a twist of fate! Even more astonishing was that this body’s previous master was a newly crowned top scholar.

But as he delved deeper into the memories, Duan Mingyu’s joy faded. After becoming the top scholar, the previous owner had returned triumphantly to Bianliang, basking in glory. Yet before he could return to Chang’an for his official reward, Huang Chao’s rebellion seized the city. Emperor Xizong fled in panic to Chengdu. The emperor couldn’t even save himself, let alone reward a scholar.

Worse yet, just as the Tang army was about to defeat Huang Chao and reclaim Chang’an, this Duan Mingyu had transmigrated into the body, devouring its soul entirely, leaving not a trace behind.

Before Duan Mingyu’s transmigration, the fiery meteor crash went unnoticed by ordinary sleeping people—they might have thought their wives simply turned over in bed and went back to sleep. But in the Tang land, two people took notice of the phenomenon, their faces full of wonder and puzzlement, then deep contemplation.

One was a Taoist priest, the other a Buddhist monk.

A thousand miles from Bianliang, a Taoist elder wore a purple Yang headscarf and a robe embroidered with the bagua symbols. Standing in the gentle breeze, he gazed at the streaking meteor.

His sharp phoenix eyes, sparse eyebrows, and rosy complexion gave him an ethereal presence. His air was extraordinary; his feet clad in dark indigo cloth shoes with upturned toes, his brows like twin swords framing his face. Though appearing only in his sixties, he was actually ninety-five years old.

The elder produced a Gaitian instrument—a celestial dome device described in the Zhoubi Suanjing as “the heavens cover like a hat, the earth follows like a plate.” Resembling a canopy, ancient people observed the stars beneath this dome, drawing celestial maps on it. Taoists regarded it as the “Heavenly Law Instrument.”

After studying the positions of the stars with the dome, his expression shifted uncertainly. Moments later, he murmured, “Venus hides, Ziwei star fails to appear, Po Jun will emerge. When something exceeds its limit, it must be destroyed. This is the image of conquest. Young man, we shall meet.”

Besides the Taoist, another person noticed the strange phenomenon. Just five li from Bianliang, a kindly-eyed, wise-looking old monk with bright eyes and steady steps was slowly making his way toward the city.

The meteor’s glowing tail delighted the traveling monk. Having practiced cultivation for years and confined himself within, his heart stirred with a rare tremor. Tears welled from his aged eyes. “It is so, it is so. ‘Golden scales appear, water and fire contend, leaping the Dragon Gate, the sun and moon shine together.’ Master, your dying prophecy was true. Disciple has arrived at last.”

After speaking, his long beard stirred without wind. Taking a step, his figure blurred; in a blink, he was a hundred paces closer. The ancient land of China was indeed home to many gifted and extraordinary individuals.

Duan Mingyu felt uneasy. Though he had consumed the original soul, he could not yet control the body: hands wouldn’t move, feet wouldn’t step, even his eyelids refused to open.

Worse still, despite his desperate shouting, no one outside heard him. His mouth never moved. Though he saw the outside world, he swore the eyes did not obey him at all. “What? You don’t believe me? Look over there—an old monk is approaching me. Now do you believe it? My eyes really couldn’t open just now. Could this be fate?”

The old monk near the ruins was precisely the one who had sensed the celestial disturbance caused by Duan Mingyu.

The monk seemed to be searching for something amid the debris.

Duan Mingyu grew anxious—was the old monk here to steal?

“Hey, old man, what are you looking for? That’s my brush pot. If you don’t put it down, I’ll call the authorities... report you.”

The old monk, of course, could not hear Duan Mingyu’s words, and casually tossed the brush pot aside.

“Old man, what are you throwing around? If you break it, can you pay for it?”

“I’m telling you, if you throw one more thing, try it…”

“Oh no, my fan, my inkstone, my erotic painting... I beg you, please stop throwing things.”

Duan Mingyu’s heart shattered again. These items would be antiques in the modern world, yet the old monk was destroying them carelessly.

What a heartless man! Truly heartless!

Finally, Duan Mingyu exhaled in relief, as the old monk stopped moving upon seeing his “corpse.” It seemed the old man was interested in the virginity of this young man’s body. Well, for the sake of my belongings, let the old man have his way.

When the old monk grasped Duan Mingyu’s hand, Duan Mingyu began to retch violently—like the famous “broken back” syndrome!

Some minds are just so twisted. The monk was merely feeling Duan Mingyu’s pulse, nothing more! But his brows furrowed deeply. “Why is the injury so severe?”

Recalling the heavenly secrets his master had told him before passing, the monk dared not neglect this matter. Perhaps the divine will lay in this half-dead young man. Well then, while he remains unconscious, the old monk would investigate.

As he spoke, the right hand where he felt the pulse glowed with a gentle white light. The light traveled through their joined palms, slowly moving around Duan Mingyu’s entire body. After a long while, several cycles passed.