Chapter One: Rebirth or Foresight

"Zhang Xiao, you’ve been acting all mysterious lately—what’s going on with you?" Xia Cheng slapped his own shoulder as he asked. Staring at Xia Cheng’s honest, broad face, Zhang Xiao found himself at a loss for words. Xia Cheng was his childhood friend since elementary school—the only one who stuck with him after his family’s fatal car accident.

But what could he possibly tell him? Or, more importantly, what was he allowed to say? That in just three months, the world would shift, plunging all of existence into chaos and ushering in a new era where gods and demons danced freely in a mythic age reborn? He didn’t dare utter such things. Even if he did, no one would believe him—they’d think he was insane. With a helpless sigh, Zhang Xiao merely patted Xia Cheng on the shoulder and forced a laugh. “Nothing’s wrong. Just been in a funk lately. I want some time alone. I’m heading off now.”

After parting with Xia Cheng, Zhang Xiao didn’t go home. Instead, he wandered into a quiet park, lost in thought. The Shift—December 31, 2012. Just as the Mayan calendar predicted the world’s end, so too would the Shift arrive. But it wasn’t the apocalypse; it was an upheaval that would shake the world to its core. By then, money and power would mean nothing.

Only strength would matter; it would be the sole capital for survival. Heaven and earth would be transformed. Gods and demons would roam. Ancient sects once thought to exist only in myth or martial arts legends—Kunlun, Mount Shu, Dragon-Tiger Mountain, Mount Mao, Shaolin, the Demon Cult, the Five Venoms Sect, the Nine Calamities Palace, the Heavenly Demon Pavilion—would all emerge, overturning everything people thought they knew. But how did Zhang Xiao know all this?

Truth be told, Zhang Xiao himself couldn’t explain it. Ever since he woke up that day, his mind had been flooded with memories—memories that told him he’d already lived through the Shift once, struggling as a nobody at the bottom of the new world. Even after the Shift, without strength, he’d have no right to any pleasure or dignity.

He didn’t know if he had been reborn or if he could see the future, but one thing was certain: the Shift would come. And with the memories in his mind, the Shift would be his greatest chance. Calming himself, Zhang Xiao returned to his old home and began preparing for the coming cataclysm.

He would face this upheaval in the best way he could.

With a heavy hammer, Zhang Xiao pounded away at the alloy he’d bought, shaping it into a crude machete. Anyone who saw it might have called him crazy, but Zhang Xiao didn’t care. Time was running out. In just three months, if he remained as weak as he was—even in a simple fight, he would lose to anyone remotely strong—he’d have no chance of changing his fate when the Shift arrived. His only option was relentless training.

Once the alloy had been battered into rough shape, he picked it up and grumbled, “Damn, this thing’s ugly, but my future depends on you.” He put the blade aside, tidied his clothes, and stepped outside. It was already past five in the afternoon.

“For my life, I’ll give it everything.” With a yell, Zhang Xiao dashed towards the park. Don’t misunderstand—he wasn’t meeting anyone there. This was his self-imposed regimen: run for an hour every morning, another hour every evening, and spend the rest of his time doing push-ups, frog jumps, and helping the butcher next door slaughter pigs.

The rest of his time was spent tinkering with odd things—like that barely knife-shaped alloy, or sturdy wooden sticks. Stranger still, he even bought a stack of simple picture books—so childish that only three-year-olds would read them. Nobody could guess why Zhang Xiao was gathering these things.

After an hour of relentless running, Zhang Xiao felt as if his intestines were about to burst, his feet sinking into the earth with each step, begging him to stop. But when he thought of his future—of being trampled underfoot even after the Shift—adrenaline surged through him, and he forced himself to keep running.

He finally staggered back from the park, only to hear a sharp voice call out, “Zhang Xiao, stop right there!” His heart sank. That voice was both achingly familiar and painfully distant. A pretty girl in a stylish short-sleeved dress ran out from behind a doorway—clearly she’d been waiting for him. Seeing her, Zhang Xiao’s face darkened.

Lan Fang—his childhood sweetheart—grew up with him, and he’d always been willing to give her anything. But after the Shift, she’d abandoned him to save her parents. That time, Zhang Xiao had been beaten terribly. Because of Lan Fang’s parents, she had betrayed him, revealing his whereabouts to his enemies. Nearly twenty men had almost killed him.

If not for sheer luck—hiding in a filthy ditch—he’d have been hunted down to zero level by those men. He survived, but his brothers were not so fortunate; one by one, they were reduced to zero, some even dying for good.

Later, he sought out Lan Fang, intending to avenge his brothers with her blood, only to be told by her parents that she’d committed suicide—so utterly that even resurrection was impossible.

This had haunted Zhang Xiao ever since—a thorn lodged deep in his heart. Now, seeing Lan Fang again, he didn’t know how to face her. Did he still love her? Yes, he did. But memories of his past life’s pain and betrayal churned inside him, so all he wanted was to escape from her—far, far away.

“Say something! Why are you silent? Give me an explanation, and I’ll go—I’ll never bother you again.” Lan Fang’s face was twisted with anger, but her eyes brimmed with tears. Zhang Xiao’s heart wrenched; he almost reached out to wipe her tears away.

But halfway there, the image of his brother Xia Cheng’s tragic death flashed through his mind. His hand froze. His face turned cold. “Go. I hate you. Just seeing you annoys me.”

With that, he walked into his house and slammed the door behind him—a heavy bang, as if the door had crashed down on Lan Fang’s heart, crushing it with pain.

Lan Fang sat outside his door, sobbing uncontrollably. Hearing her tears, Zhang Xiao’s heart was in turmoil. In the end, he couldn’t help but open the door, pull her up, and say, “I’m sorry. My mind is a mess. Let me be. I’ll find you in a few days and explain everything.”

It was the only excuse he could offer to comfort her—and himself. Hearing this, Lan Fang glared at him fiercely. “I’ll wait for you. Promise me you’ll come, no matter what.”

Watching her walk away, Zhang Xiao’s heart was a maelstrom. Would he really go to her? And if he did, how could he face her?

Time passed—two months later, with only one month and eighteen days until the Shift.

In the remote mountain outskirts, far from the city, lay a rural village surrounded by wild forests and empty valleys. Apart from a handful of elderly and children, all the young adults had left—either to study or work in the city.

A young man like Zhang Xiao was warmly welcomed by the villagers. With so many empty houses, he’d rented a large courtyard for just a hundred yuan. After four months of grueling training, Zhang Xiao was visibly stronger—no longer the frail youth he once was. No one knew his true purpose; to the villagers, he claimed he was here to sketch landscapes. He was a decent artist, and often sketched portraits for the villagers, so they soon got used to his presence.

Zhang Xiao spent each day training his body and collecting short wooden sticks. The villagers had no idea why he bothered with them, and they didn’t care enough to ask.

Time flew by—over a month passed in the blink of an eye. It was now December 30. Tomorrow at noon, the Shift would occur.

The world would soon change in ways no one could imagine. Zhang Xiao had chosen to leave the city for this very reason—cities would be the most chaotic places of all.

The Shift—just the thought of it made Zhang Xiao’s heart race. He remembered his past life, how powerless he’d been amid the chaos. But now, armed with experience, he was confident he could thrive in the new world. No one would ever trample him underfoot again.

“Come, Shift—let it happen!”

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