Volume One, Chapter Three: She Might Have Been Knocked Silly

Looking at his younger sister, who now seemed so much more composed, Lu Yanci’s eyes flickered with a trace of heartache. The delicate little flower once cherished in the palm of the family’s hand had now grown into someone who could bravely stand before her loved ones and shoulder responsibilities on her own.

Unable to help himself, Lu Yanci raised a hand and gently ruffled the top of her head, his eyes filled with a tender, pained affection. “All right, I know I was wrong.”

“Oh, come on, brother,” Lu Shixin leaned back, dodging his hand, then straightened her back and said seriously, “I’m not a fifteen-year-old kid anymore.”

Seeing her little act of gravity, Lu Yanci couldn’t help but chuckle, “All right, all right, you’re a big girl now.”

Lu Shixin thought to herself, Big girl or not, isn’t a child still a child?

She reached out to her mother and spoke softly, “Mom, it looks like brother isn’t feeling well—he needs proper rest. It gets chilly at night up in the hills. We should go inside quickly.”

“You’re right, Xinxin,” her mother said, hurriedly releasing Lu Yanci and wiping her tears. “It’s my fault, you’ve only just recovered from your illness. How could I let you catch cold out here? I must be losing my mind.”

“Come on, Ah Yan, let’s head in,” she said, taking Lu Yanci by the hand and leading him toward the villa.

With Lu Yanci’s safe return, the entire Lu family seemed to come alive once more.

It was already half past three in the morning by the time Lu Yanci lay down in bed. He rested his arms beneath his head and lay quietly, his thoughts drifting. Unbidden, his mind wandered to Xie Wannian.

That woman—she had managed to see, with just a glance, that he endured inhuman torment every night. Not even his own family knew about that. For this reason, he found himself half-believing what she had said about the “Death Curse.”

But who could have cast such a wicked spell on him?

He had been asleep for three years, and try as he might, he could not imagine who it could be.

Suddenly, a splitting pain seized his head.

“Damn it! Ugh…!”

He struggled to stifle his cries, clutching his head as if it might burst, his face contorted in agony. It felt as though two unseen forces were tearing at his mind, desperate to rip body and soul apart, to devour him piece by piece.

He had no idea how long the pain lasted before he finally blacked out.

Half-conscious, half-dreaming, he felt as if he had a long dream.

In the dream, he saw the slender, cold figure of a woman. She wore white, but her robes were stained red with blood, and the vermillion brush in her hand had already dried up.

Her spiritual power was exhausted; now, only sheer will kept her upright.

Suddenly, a young man with his hair tied up appeared, stepping in front of her.

“Master!” The young man knelt down heavily before the woman, nearly pleading as he wept, “Master, the brush is dry—if you keep fighting, you’ll die…”

He looked at her bloodied hand still gripping the vermillion brush, and it was as if his own heart was bleeding, his vision blurred by tears. “Master, the ones they want to kill are after me. Please, just give me up!”

The woman in white lowered her eyes to her disciple, then slowly raised her arm and, with bloodied fingertips, wiped the tears from his face. “Don’t be afraid. Your master will carve a bloody path for you. You must escape, don’t disappoint my hopes for you.”

With that, she once again tightened her grip on the vermillion brush.

“Master, no—!”

With a desperate cry, Lu Yanci jolted awake from the nightmare.

He gasped for breath, his eyes wild and unsettled.

The same dream—again.

Since his awakening, he had dreamed the same dream four nights in a row.

It was so vivid, it didn’t feel like a dream at all, but rather a memory carved deep into his very soul.

In the dream, the woman’s figure—her white dress stained with blood, the vermillion brush clutched in her hand—had stood alone against thousands, all to protect him.

That figure was so achingly familiar, evoking both dependence and longing, and a deep, wrenching sorrow.

Master.

Master…

Lu Yanci tried his best to recall what happened next in the dream, but every time he tried, the pain in his head returned.

Suddenly remembering something, he forced himself to sit up.

Feeling the cold sweat soaking his body, he first went to the bathroom for a soak, then changed into clean clothes and left his room.

He headed straight for the villa’s private hospital.

…

To better care for Lu Yanci during his illness, the Lu family had built an annex in the backyard—a villa hospital.

For three years, he had recovered there.

As he stepped inside, a chill seemed to pierce straight into his bones, making his body uncomfortable.

He frowned and stopped.

That cold—so sharp it burrowed into his very marrow.

He saw Uncle Fu in the distance, his head lolling to one side, his back resting on the sofa.

“Uncle Fu,” Lu Yanci called out.

But after a long wait, there was no response.

Uncle Fu remained motionless, his head tilted, a faintly eerie scene.

Lu Yanci pursed his lips and walked over, frowning.

As he got closer, he saw Uncle Fu’s eyes were open, staring at the doors of the operating room, but utterly unfocused.

Lu Yanci reached out and nudged him. “Uncle Fu?”

“Hm…? Young Master.”

Startled by the touch, Uncle Fu jerked awake, scrambling to his feet and backing away. “Forgive me, Young Master, I must have dozed off.”

“It’s all right,” Lu Yanci gestured for him to sit and casually asked, “Uncle Fu, do you often sleep with your eyes open?”

“Huh?”

Uncle Fu was confused, not quite catching what he meant.

“Nothing,” Lu Yanci replied, noting Uncle Fu’s blank look, then shifted his gaze to the tightly shut doors of the operating room. “It’s not over yet?”

Uncle Fu followed his gaze, sighed, and said softly, “The doctors said Miss Xie has multiple stab wounds, each deep to the bone. The injury at the back of her head alone is life-threatening.”

Remembering the doctor’s words, Uncle Fu couldn’t help but feel a surge of sympathy.

“And that’s not all—her body’s been poisoned with a slow-acting toxin. The doctors said it’s a miracle she’s still alive. Even if she wakes up, they’re afraid she might be left… simple-minded.”

Lu Yanci’s gaze sharpened. “What did you say? Simple-minded?”

“Yes, it’s a real pity.”

Thinking of Xie Wannian, whom he’d watched grow up, Uncle Fu’s heart ached with guilt.

“Young Master, it seems Miss Xie was abused for a long time. Judging by her injuries, that husband of hers, Fu Lingzhou, probably wanted her dead. After raising her for eighteen years, how could the Xie family just let her be treated this way?”

When Lu Yanci heard the name “Fu Lingzhou,” an image of the two people hiding in the shadows last night flashed through his mind.

He was silent for a long while.

Uncle Fu looked up, only to see that Lu Yanci’s eyes were utterly indifferent, as if Xie Wannian’s fate had nothing to do with him.

“Young Master, you look rather pale. Why don’t you go back and rest? I can keep watch here.”

“All right,” Lu Yanci replied with a nod.

For some reason, the longer he stayed, the more his head throbbed.

“Uncle Fu, you should rest too.” With that, Lu Yanci strode away.

A day passed.

Xie Wannian slowly awoke in her hospital bed.

Her first instinct was to clench her right hand. Realizing there was nothing there, she finally understood—this was not the cultivation world, but somewhere utterly foreign.

She had come back to life in another’s body.