[Hetu] [Heavenly Demon] [Episode 1] Chapter 1

Chapter One: Entering the World In

the misty, rainy July, the Jiangnan region was gripped by the plum rain season. A light drizzle could

fall a torrential downpour could startle passersby.

The South is always damp and rainy, especially during the rainy season when it becomes unbearably wet. Large raindrops can nourish

the earth , but sometimes they can ruin a day's livelihood. Rain nourishes all things, but it also brings an unpleasant dampness.

Especially when the sun is high in the sky and rain suddenly comes, it is always an unavoidable nuisance.

The Jiangnan region is perpetually shrouded in a light mist, especially near the water. By West Lake, the incessant

drizzle nourishes everything. The willows along the shore are glistening, the lake is shrouded in mist, and the distant mountains appear and disappear,

like a fairyland. If it weren't for the chill that clashes with summer and the uncomfortable humidity, who wouldn't be captivated by this

picturesque scene of mist-shrouded mountains?

A winding path, a low pavilion, and swaying willows; a light rain and gentle breeze rippling the water—everything seems utterly delightful. Beside a lakeside path,

a red-roofed, white-pillared pavilion, nourished by the rain and nestled amidst the West Lake landscape, exudes a captivating charm! Perhaps it is

the beauty of nature that creates this picturesque scene, or perhaps it is the poetic and idyllic atmosphere that imbues it with a unique flavor, a masterpiece of nature. Everything

complements each other, appearing so noble and elegant, yet full of delightful surprises!

The ancient pavilion, its base covered with blue glazed tiles, appears

exceptionally verdant under the fine mist. Dewdrops glisten on the brightly colored stone pillars, creating a breathtakingly beautiful scene. Many poems seem to be inscribed on the pavilion's pillars,

but none truly capture the ethereal beauty of this place. The poetic imagery is slightly incomplete, leaving one with a sense of

regret.

A light drizzle fell outside the pavilion, pattering onto West Lake and creating ripples. The water droplets blurred the surface, adding to the harmonious beauty of

the landscape Inside, on a stone table, a pot of fragrant wine and a plate of seasonal

fruit sat, simple yet exuding a unique charm. The wine pot was a fine cloisonné gold pot, and the cups were exquisitely carved ivory

cups, displaying extreme luxury, yet they were anything but vulgar against the backdrop of the scene.

Sitting with his back to West Lake, an elderly man in brocade robes smiled broadly,

a blush spreading across his face. He looked at the fair-skinned young man before him and said with a hint of excitement, "Young master, I didn't expect you

to return so quickly."

A young man dressed in a white silk robe and a purple-trimmed gown silently savored his drink, relishing

the long-awaited rich flavor. Seeing the old man's eyes redden with emotion, the young man quickly waved his hand and smiled, saying,

"Uncle Dong, I'm back now, why are you so excited?"

"Young Master, you...you..." The old man, addressed as Uncle Dong, felt a lump in his throat, and two streams of tears

flowed uncontrollably. Despite the wrinkles on his face, his flushed cheeks spoke of

his joy.

"Uncle Dong, don't cry, take care of yourself!" The young man quickly stepped forward and gently patted the old man

's back. When he saw the elderly man, now in his seventies, weeping, a hint of sadness flashed in his eyes, and

he sighed silently.

This world, perhaps this absurd world, was beyond his imagination. It not only overturned all

his thoughts but also left him with a heavy heart, unsure how to adapt.

The young man's name was Yang Cun, courtesy name Wenjing, a name that was utterly unfamiliar to him. Perhaps it held great significance

for others, but to him, it was merely a nickname he couldn't understand

.

The old man burst into tears, tears of emotion mixed with joy. Yang Cun gently comforted him, his thoughts drifting far away.

In those days, he had computers, cell phones, and inexplicable high technology.

His understanding of history consisted mainly of those maddeningly bad TV dramas. His view of the ancients was simple:

idiotic, mentally challenged fools who would readily commit suicide. Yet, their incomprehensible survival strategies

sometimes brought a shock that was both laughable and heartbreaking.

Yang Cun remembered that in his previous life, his name was also Yang Cun, but he had no idea where he came from. From

the day he could remember, he had never had a concept of a home. His small mountain village was destroyed in

a landslide. Even though everyone boasted that they were descendants of the Yang family generals,

all the simple villagers were buried under the rocks and mud.

At that time, few people survived. He didn't know whether his survival was a blessing or a curse. All he remembered

was his time in the orphanage; he had few memories of his relatives. Special circumstances often lead to

precocious maturity , sometimes even erasing all traces of childhood trials. Growing up, the constant performance at every event,

a desperate attempt to gain adoption, is a pathetic display, a shameful expression of deep-seated inferiority.

How did one come to be? Forgotten, seemingly completely forgotten. Dropping out of middle school, he wandered the streets, doing everything

to survive, committing all sorts of despicable acts. Those years of living alone

were filled with hunger, contemptuous glances, and deep depression—a truly dark period. His last

memory seems to be of finally buying a house, having his own home,

and having a sweet dream on his new bed, before inexplicably arriving in this era.

Yang Cun remains deeply troubled; sometimes things simply defy normal explanation. Like

Xiao Zhao in *The Heaven Sword and Dragon Saber*, there's a perpetually perplexing question:

how does this girl change her underwear after wearing those anklets for so long? Who the hell knows the answer!

"Young Master, you're back! The Yang family finally has a successor..." Uncle Dong continued to cry, tears

streaming down his face, his flushed cheeks showing his intense emotion. He muttered incoherently

.

"I'm back..." Yang Cun comforted him, a bitter smile playing on his lips. The thought of this

completely unfamiliar world filled him with a sharp pain, for this dynasty didn't exist in any history

.

The Three Sovereigns and Five Emperors, the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods, even the era of prefectures and counties—everything was almost identical to the history he knew

. The infamous fox spirit Daji did exist. The Qin dynasty's conquest of the six states during the Warring States period was exactly

the same did

exist. But everything changed after the Qin dynasty. This era was a turning point; the wheels of history had

begun to turn in a different direction.

The battle between Liu Bang and Xiang Yu did not end with Xiang Yu's suicide at the Wujiang River, nor did the once-powerful Han Dynasty

emerge. The biggest difference lies in the fact that Fan Zeng was not distrusted by Xiang Yu. This "advisor" remained diligent and dedicated,

assisting Xiang Yu in defeating Liu Bang despite his advanced age, ultimately leading to Xiang Yu's ascension to the

throne and the establishment of the century-long golden age of Western Chu. The most significant difference, however, is the appearance of Yu Ji, a woman of unparalleled beauty. Her appearance completely altered the course of history, making everything in

this world entirely different from what Yang Cun had imagined.

For a century, Western Chu was ruled by tyrannical rulers, followed by widespread warfare. Under the oppression of various forms of tyranny, refugees from all directions rose in rebellion, resulting in

numerous changes of dynasty and countless dynastic tragedies.

After repeated dynastic changes, a century ago, an emperor surnamed Zhao founded the Great Hua Dynasty, quelling

internal and external rebellions and bringing a century of stability to the dynasty. The Zhao family emperors—passing the throne generation after generation—though some seized power by killing their

own brothers, all were diligent and conscientious rulers. The Great Hua Dynasty remained incredibly powerful,

a celestial empire to which all barbarian tribes paid tribute.

"Uncle Dong, please don't get so excited." Yang Cun, his mind reeling, quickly comforted the sobbing

old man before him.

"Young Master, you're back! If the old general knew this in the afterlife, he could rest in peace." Wang Dong, unable to contain

his excitement, gripped Yang Cun's arm tightly with his wrinkled old hand. Looking at the tall, handsome young man before him,

his face flushed with excitement, yet he wept with joy.

The Yang family of Great Hua was arguably the foremost family of military generals for centuries. Although Yang Cun had only a superficial understanding of this world, he

couldn't ignore his lineage.

A hundred years ago, when the ancestral emperor campaigned in the south and north, the most valiant force under his command was the invincible Yang family army,

said to be descendants of the Yang family generals of the Song Dynasty, though this was impossible to verify. During the bloody battles that marked the beginning of the dynasty, the Yang family

's contributions were countless. A family that had existed for centuries, producing one king and three dukes, a feat unmatched by

many .

The Yang family ancestor, Yang Dingkun, fought for over twenty years, his army invincible, slaying countless enemies.

He was later granted the title of Prince of Zhen, becoming the first non-royal prince of the Great Hua, his fame known even to three-year-old children.

In the following century, countless members of the Yang family, from the legitimate branch to illegitimate children and those skilled in martial arts, produced outstanding individuals, including

three dukes. The last of these was Yang Cun's father, Yang Mingcheng, who died in battle and was posthumously honored as Duke Jing

.

"Young Master, my humble abode is in the county town." Wang Dong was sobbing uncontrollably. Seeing that it was getting late, he quickly

grabbed Yang Cun's hand and said excitedly, "Please, just bear with it and rest at my place for the night!"

"Uncle Dong, look at what you're saying. We're all family, what's there to argue about?" Yang Cun

couldn't bear his tears and quickly nodded in agreement.

"Yes, yes, Young Master..." Wang Dong cried uncontrollably and immediately pulled Yang Cun's hand into the carriage, heading towards the county town under

the cover of night .

Sitting in the carriage, looking at the twinkling stars outside, the bumpy ride didn't disturb Yang Cun's troubled

thoughts . This world, this ancient world, still felt somewhat unfamiliar even now.

When he first arrived in this world, he was just an eight-year-old boy, weak and sickly, seemingly on the

verge of death.

In my memory, it was in a Taoist temple deep in the mountains, with no mountain paths leading out. It was surrounded by dense

forests, and there wasn't a trace of human habitation. My only companions were a large black dog guarding the gate and an

old Taoist priest with white hair and a youthful face. My life consisted of chanting scriptures, meditating, and drinking incredibly bitter medicinal drinks.

Although I didn't have to do any hard labor, the daily life was so monotonous it almost drove me mad.

The old Taoist priest, besides knowing my name was "I Don't Know," hardly spoke to me, only supervising

my daily medicine and prayers. Those days were worse than imprisonment.

The carriage slowly entered a small county town called Shihe. The lights were just coming on, and the town was bustling with activity

. The streets were filled with people out enjoying the night. Vendors hawking their wares, street performers—it was a

small but complete place. This made Yang Cun, who had been cultivating in the mountains for ten years, stare wide-eyed at

every living person around him. This feeling was far more interesting than visiting a zoo.

The carriage bypassed the bustling area and entered a relatively quiet alley in the city. The wheels slowly came to a stop, and an

ordinary little courtyard appeared before them. A large red-lacquered gate, double-columned pillars, red walls and green tiles—while not

the extravagance of a wealthy family, it had its own unique charm, indicating that the Wang family was quite well-off.

Before the carriage even entered, a group of servants and maids crowded around the entrance, warmly welcoming the two into the mansion.

The inner courtyard was the residence of the women, and the east wing was the main house. At Wang Dong's insistence, Yang Cun was arranged to live

here . Yang Mingcheng was considered a direct descendant of the Yang family; although not the eldest son, he wielded

considerable influence within the clan. Wang Dong had been a servant in the Yang family in his early years, later gaining the favor of Master Yang. He and Yang Mingcheng had studied literature and martial arts together

since childhood. As he grew older, he went from being a young Wang to an old Wang, loyally serving the Yang family for over forty years.

Although they didn't share the same surname, they were like family.

After a hearty meal and a relaxing bath, Yang Cun finally had time to

rest . Wang Dong's feelings for Yang Cun were almost like those of a master and son; even though he was already sleepy,

he wanted to talk to Yang Cun all night long. This enthusiasm made Yang Cun a little afraid,

so he quickly excused himself by saying he wasn't feeling well, thus sending Wang Dong away.

The Yang family was renowned for its loyalty and valor, boasting three high-ranking officials—a reputation unmatched even a century later. Given

such a distinguished family background, Yang Cun was baffled as to why he was being raised in the deep mountains. After much questioning,

the old Taoist priest reluctantly revealed the reason. It turned out that by this generation, the Yang family had dwindled in number. Of Yang Mingcheng's four

brothers , two had died young, one had died in battle, and the only surviving uncle, Yang Mingyu, was plagued by injuries and illnesses after numerous battles.

His two sons had also died young, leaving him with only a young daughter, making him virtually childless.

Yang Mingcheng fared no better. Although he died in battle and was posthumously granted the title of Duke, he was still young when he passed away. His first

wife, Yang Yaoshi, also committed suicide out of love and was posthumously granted the title of Second-Rank Lady. Therefore, he left behind very few heirs. He had several

wives and concubines, but the fate of the youngest sons in the Yang family seemed to be mostly tragic. Yang Cun had two older sisters and one older brother, but

they all died shortly after birth. It wasn't until two years before Yang Mingcheng and his wife passed away that Yang Cun, their only heir, was born.

Despite bearing the title of eldest son, Yang Cun was actually the fourth son, born with a silver

spoon , inheriting Yang Mingcheng's title of Duke of Jing.

As for the Yang family descendants, they were sent to the deep mountains and forests from a young age. It was only through the occasional mutterings of an old Taoist priest that Yang Cun

learned that this sickly child, who had been frail and ill since birth, was now on the verge of death.

Having lost , Yang Cun, his wife, and their patriarch could no longer bear the shock and immediately

sought medical help everywhere, but ultimately found no cure.

Coincidentally, an old Taoist priest, a close friend of the patriarch, was traveling in the capital at that time and happened to meet Yang Mingcheng, who was also

searching for a renowned doctor. Although the old priest was unconventional and unrestrained, he was highly skilled in medicine and

a specialist in treating difficult and complicated diseases. Under these circumstances, Old Master Yang immediately arranged for his six-month-old son, Yang Cun, to become the disciple

of an old Taoist priest. Left with no other choice, the priest took the infant back to an old

temple , where he remained for eighteen years.

Thinking of the Taoist priest, Yang Cun felt a surge of anger! He wondered if the old man truly possessed such

great abilities, wandering around with a wine bottle hanging from his head. In those desolate, dense forests teeming with

dangerous beasts, the old man dared to leave his young son in the care of a large dog, sometimes disappearing for ten days

or half a month without a trace. Now, thinking about it, the old priest really did seem like a fraud.

His mind a jumble of thoughts, Yang Cun drifted off to sleep, seemingly catching a faint scent.

Memories, jumbled and fragmented, began to dissolve, and he drifted into a dream under the soft comfort of his quilt.

"Little one!" The quiet room filled with the scent of incense. The door opened silently, and

a slightly gaunt figure appeared in the darkness. He gazed intently at Yang Cun, who slept peacefully on the bed, and chuckled softly,

"The world is about to descend into chaos, indeed a good opportunity to go down the mountain. However, I wonder if

your extra soul and spirit, in this chaotic state of Yin and Yang, will bring you any extraordinary encounters. It all depends on your fate."

The speaker was an elderly man with white hair and a long beard. His wrinkled face was kind, yet his old eyes held

a quiet but authoritative light. His faded Taoist robe was covered with various patched pieces of cloth, and even

his gray undershirt and shoes were worn and tattered. Despite this, the old man merely smiled, giving off an air of

profound mystery and an indescribable transcendence.

"It's a pity you're destined to remain in this mortal world." The old man sighed, turning back to say helplessly, "The eldest son

of the Yang family is destined to be forever barred from the Great Dao. If it weren't for my good karma with the Yang family, perhaps you wouldn't have come into this

world. Since you are a prince, I won't force you. I only hope you can revitalize the Yang family, so that Brother Yang can

rest in peace in the afterlife."

As soon as he finished speaking, a gentle breeze blew by, and the old man was no longer in the room. Only the slowly rising

incense still lingered with its faint fragrance, as if nothing had happened.

In ancient times, people started their day early. Yang Cun was woken up just as dawn was breaking. Wang Dong had

already packed his luggage and travel expenses and was waiting anxiously at the gate. As soon as he saw Yang Cun coming over yawning after finishing breakfast

, he quickly came up to him and said with a pained expression, "Young Master, are you really going to travel alone?"

"Yes, is everything ready?" Yang Cun yawned, looking like he hadn't woken up yet. His

blue scholar's robe with red trim looked somewhat flamboyant, but unfortunately, he was lazy and lacked energy, which made him look

less than presentable.

"Young Master, please be careful on your journey. Although it's a peaceful world, there are still many petty scoundrels." Wang Dong

said with a worried expression, earnestly advising, "It's still several days' journey to the capital! I'm really worried

about you ! How about I find a few guards to accompany you?"

"No need." Yang Cun waved his hand, took the reins of the big black horse, and after receiving

the travel expenses said with a smile, "Alright, Uncle Dong, you should enjoy your retirement in peace. I

feel bad for disturbing you so suddenly, so please don't make things so troublesome. I'm not the weak and sickly child I used to be; it's good enough if I don't

rob others. Don't worry about me."

"Young Master, please be careful on your journey!" Wang Dong's old eyes filled with tears, and he couldn't help but choke up.

Last night, having already retired to his hometown, he wanted to go back to the capital with Yang Cun when he saw his young master return,

but Yang Cun refused. This old steward, who had worked diligently for the Yang family for forty years, was finally ready to enjoy his retirement

.

The tall, strong black horse was robust and, while fast, ran steadily. Such a tall, magnificent

horse was rarely seen among commoners; an expert could immediately tell it was a military horse. After all, in the Great Hua, where warhorses were scarce,

even such large warhorses were a rare sight among the common people.

"That old bastard, what does he want me to do in Tianjin?" Riding his horse along the wide official road,

looking at the dark box in his hand, Yang Cun muttered unhappily.

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[Hetu] [Heavenly Demon] [Episode 1] Chapter 1

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