4 CHAPTER TWO

A Tale Most Sordid

Have you ever wondered what being trapped inside someone else might feel—

…What?

You have?

.

.

.

…Weirdo.

Anyways, where was I? … Ha! Yes.

Ahem.

Ladies and gentlemen of discerning tastes, allow me to share with you a most peculiar and disconcerting tale. One of a man who found himself ensnared in the confines of another's flesh and bone. Picture, if you will, the

inexpressible torment of a soul forced to inhabit a foreign vessel, imprisoned in the very embodiment of another human being.

The human mind, that exquisite instrument of thought and feeling, can be a labyrinthine wonder, but it is bound to its corporeal shell, a unique dwelling designed for a singular spirit. For, you see, it is one thing to live vicariously through the experiences of another, to empathize and understand their emotions, to imagine their joys and sorrows. It is an entirely different matter to be, in every conceivable way, an intruder in a body not your own. The anguish of such an existence is akin to the imprisonment of Prometheus, bound to the rock as his liver was devoured by vultures. A relentless, excruciating cycle of torment.

In this strange predicament, one is robbed of the basic privilege of selfhood. The shell that houses your essence, the very vessel that defines your being, is alien. You gaze into a mirror and see not your own visage, but the countenance of a stranger; your hands, your legs, your every motion orchestrated by an alien will. It is as if you have become a spectator to the theatre of life, an actor cast in a role not of your choosing.

Imagine it.

Have you?

Good.

Now imagine living like this for seven sleepless decades.

I died a not-so-noble man in my last world; my life snatched away at the whims of a runaway truck. Cliché, I know—beings that engage in transmigrating mortal souls on a whim during their free time tend to rarely be the imaginative sort. But still, my point stands. I was plucked from an arguably pleasant existence and tossed into the body of a newborn—a body I had no will over— to become a spectator. A parasite.

For seventy-two years, I was forced to bear witness to the life of Prince Na Wei.

In this most bizarre and Kafkaesque ordeal, I was forced to confront the very essence of my identity and the frailty of the human condition. To be trapped inside the body of another was to be denied the very core of one's being, a torment of such magnitude as to drive even the most stoic of souls to the brink of despair. It was then I began to question the purpose whatever god—or heavens forbid, author—had for me in this realm.

So when the time eventually came for me to break free of my Lovecraftian cocoon, I seized the moment with a brutality that, in hindsight, surprised even myself.

It has been three months since the original Na Wei faltered during his advancement into the second stage of the Houtain realm; the moment during which I took advantage of the breach in the powerful inscriptions and spiritual barrier formations guarding his soul to enter his mindscape and devour his sea of consciousness.

Of course, my interruption meant I derailed the advancement and wasted literal decades of preparation. But, to be honest, I couldn't care less.

I was free.

And that was all that mattered.

For a week, the entire palace was in a state of bewilderment upon hearing of my jubilant mood following my failure to advance. During that period, my vast harem and many daughters fled my sight with even more vigour than they had my predecessor, fearing I would rut them within an inch of their lives as I had done the dozens before them. Many of my sons, being the only ones who could leave the palace without my express permission, departed on "pilgrimages to seek their interpretation of the divine Dao" after I had my Eunuch Warriors execute the two dozen or so that rose in rebellion.

It's been a month since I arrived at Jinqiao and three weeks since I subsequently departed with the prize I sought. The ancient spatial ring containing the divine inheritance that was originally meant for Li Shen hung from a chain around my neck beneath my garments, hidden from sight. The Nirvana fruit essence required to evolve my newfound chi network had been processed and subsequently consumed, and the dual cultivation cauldron that was Ma Yili lay curled up naked beside me in my palanquin as we were transported back to the Royal Palace.

Outside, the sun rose, its soft orange light leaking past the thin curtains of the palanquin. The vehicle see-sawed in a gentle, relaxing manner as my eight bearers silently marched forward. The ambience in the air was, in general, pleasant.

I ran my fingers through Ma Yili's hair, massaging her scalp as I considered my plans moving forward. To be honest, I would have preferred to just return to my new home and cultivate within the safety of the palace walls. You know, to avoid all the mortally dangerous ordeals I might need to overcome should I intend to exploit my knowledge regarding the story. But, in truth, doing that would prove me the epitome of stupidity and shortsightedness.

For one, it is a fact—well-known to anyone of any significant standing in the Emperor's Court—that I am currently living on borrowed time. Given the reckless arrogance with which my predecessor conducted himself there already exists a worrying number of individuals, great and small, bearing a blood feud with me. Individuals would stop at nothing to see my corpse trampled and rotting by the roadside. Unfortunately for me, according to canon, this isn't something I can attempt to wait out.

Without a significant amount of effort on my part, my fate could very well be set in stone.

But aside from the fear of a gruesome death at the hands of a vengeful son or someone equally pedestrian, I considered myself a reasonably savvy individual. Given the choices available to me now were either to sit on my hands and wait for my death or give the possibility of attaining immortality—or even godhood—a shot and likely die trying, I think the answer is more than clear for anyone with at least two brain cells to rub together.

***​

We arrived, about a week later, ascending up a winding path to our destination.

The royal palace, as it emerged from the heart of the mountains surrounding was like a mirage materializing from a dream, a work of celestial artistry. It was a place of such profound opulence and majesty that one might argue it had been plucked from the dreams of the divine and firmly grounded upon the fertile soil of our earthly plane.

...At least that was how it was described in the texts scattered far and wide for the masses' gleeful consumption—after all, people, in general, do love a good tale no matter how outlandish.

In reality, though, the Royal Palace was a slightly more mundane entity. Impressive, yes, but not to the absurd degrees peddled by bards and state-sponsored scholars alike.

Its roofs, crowned in ancient weather-beaten azure tiles, sought to mirror the boundless heavens above. A cascade of crystal-clear waters, enchanted to possess a timeless lustre, flowed in a serpentine path from the mountain's peak to form a decorative moat around the sprawling structure.

The palace was a manifestation of architectural alchemy, the stone and wood constituting it infused with a myriad of spiritual essences. Its grandeur was boastful; a rather arrogant interpretation of the boundless celestial expanse beyond.

Ostentatious.

I let the palanquin's pulled-back curtains drop, as I leaned back into my seat. My gaze panned to finally regard the girl curled up by my side. I gave a ponderous hum as I considered what to do with her now that I had her. As you might have predicted, Ma Yili was no ordinary girl. In tales such as these, females like her—who are likely candidates to become the main character's primary love interest, hence, illogically attractive—rarely were.

For some reason I couldn't seem to wrap my head around, this utterly unimportant village girl was later revealed in the story to possess something called a mythical physique. "Clear Jade Body", I think I remember the author dubbing it. A physique, that as it turned out, was one of the horribly few that could perfectly harmonize with the dual cultivation scripture inscribed in the ancient ring. Only two other women were mentioned throughout all three thousand old chapters to possess physiques of similar efficacy. The first was currently hidden away in a realm I would find impossible to access as I am at the moment.

The second's most vocal admirer could quite literally erase my current existence with a single odd glance, so... no?...

No.

The fact that Ma Yili was the only one I am currently able to detain should have made my decision simple, right? "Keep her, fuck her, and get stronk", you might chant beneath your breath as you stare at your lit screen.

Well, also no.

As it so happens, the dual cultivation technique in the ring had the unfortunate side effect of strengthening both sides with the weaker one gaining more from the arrangement. That in simple terms meant that eventually both our cultivation would equalize. And given what little I remembered about the seemingly docile girl I knew committing to that and hoping for the best was tantamount to stupidity.

Just the few rounds of cultivation I attempted with her had already brought her cultivation up to the threshold of the first aperture of the Houtian realm—the lowest level any real cultivator can be, which also happened to be my current level. Any more and it was undoubtedly certain she would break through and equalise with me.

Of course, there were a few ways to bypass this but few were reliable enough for me to truly consider. A Soul-binding inscription seal to guarantee her obedience would have been most suitable but it would take some time and preparation for me to get my hands on that.

And if there was anything I didn't have nearly enough of it was time.

I stopped by my chambers to drop off the living cauldron before proceeding to my next destination. I made my way through the palace's many hallways, soon leaving my allocated section to arrive at the abode of one of the few of my royal siblings who seemed to tolerate my existence.

"Fourth Brother," I greeted with a small incline of my head as I stood before an elevated seat. A large purple silk curtain divided the room, shrouding the fellow from my sight.

"Little Na," the prince breathed as his attention focused on me. "You failed," he said referencing the cultivation mishap that occurred as I snatched my body from my predecessor.

"Yes."

"...You don't seem bothered? Was all I painstakingly invested in you worth so little?"

"I have been enlightened," I replied vaguely. "It appears my failure finally revealed the solution to my problems."

"Oh?" the fourth prince intoned with something akin to amusement leaking into his voice as he bit on, hook, line and sinker.

The centuries-old bastard was a sucker for watching others make a fool of themselves...

And that, my friend, is a noble pastime I could truly respect.

"What might that be?" the prince inquired, his tone considering.

"I need to convince Lord-father to let me join a sect."

"...Do you have any in mind?" he asked after a momentary pause.

"Yes," I say, forcing back a smile of anticipation.

"The White Orchid Sect."