Chapter Two: Transmigrated Once Again

The sky was as dark as ink, the moonlight dim and shrouded. In a sprawling, verdant forest, the cries of nightingales echoed everywhere, their voices piercing and mournful, like the wails of tormented ghosts.

At the heart of the woods lay a man dressed in splendid attire, sprawled on the ground, his limbs forming a great "X." Around him, a few men clad in black chuckled coldly before vanishing into the night, leaving only the pale moonlight to drape over his body like a white shroud.

“Damn it, who hit my head? It hurts like hell. Why does my whole body ache so much? Wasn’t I already dead?” Hu Mo groaned in pain. The slightest movement sent waves of agony through his nerves, making him feel that death would have been preferable.

After catching his breath, he surveyed his surroundings. Suddenly, his expression froze. Towering trees stretched in every direction—a remote, wild mountain forest. The howling of wolves mingled with the shrill cries of birds, amplifying the sense of dread.

“Have I reached the Underworld? No, if I were a ghost, I shouldn’t still feel pain. Damn, what happened here? Why am I so badly hurt?”

Hu Mo could distinctly sense that several of his bones were shattered, and even his internal organs seemed displaced. Anyone else would likely have been dead, so why was he still alive, only wracked with pain?

His mind whirled with thoughts, and suddenly, fragments of memory flickered through his brain, slowly piecing together under his scrutiny.

“I am Hu Mo, grandson of Hu Yihu, Duke of Dingguo and Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army of the Heavenly Fire Empire, and son of General Wei Long, Hu Meng. Is this a joke? Since when did I have such a background?” Hu Mo slapped his forehead, forgetting his injuries, and let out another howl of pain.

“Could it be… I’ve transmigrated again?” The pain brought clarity, and he muttered to himself. Glancing at his fine clothes—clearly the garb of a wealthy young lord—he became certain of his current status.

“Haha! Wonderful! I’ve borrowed a corpse to return to life, transmigrated yet again, and my name hasn’t even changed! Heaven must be in a good mood for once, finally doing me a favor! And what a family I’ve landed in—Duke of Dingguo, General Wei Long—just their titles sound impressive!” Hu Mo shouted with excitement, though he dared not move too much for fear of the pain.

“But why am I here? The owner of this body must be dead, and in a place like this…” Hu Mo fell into deep thought. To awaken to transmigration with such a heavy burden was, to say the least, uncomfortable.

“Young master! Young master, where are you?”

Suddenly, a chorus of shouts echoed from not far away, interrupting his thoughts. As the footsteps grew closer, Hu Mo made a snap decision: “No time to think. These people must be searching for me. Best to play unconscious and avoid trouble.”

With that, he turned his head and “passed out.”

Moments later, dozens of guards bearing torches gathered around him. The instant they arrived, a sharp pain shot through his left arm, making Hu Mo cry out in agony.

“Damn you, watch where you’re stepping!” Tears sprang to his eyes from the pain. These guards were all burly men, and one misplaced foot shattered his already broken arm into several pieces. The excruciating pain made him convulse, and with more cracking sounds, several more bones broke. Hu Mo’s vision went black, and he finally lost consciousness for real.

“Damn, I really passed out from pain…” Hu Mo sank into oblivion, full of bitterness.

“Young master, young master! I didn’t mean to…” wailed the guard who had stepped on him, but Hu Mo heard nothing. He even wondered if that single step had sent him transmigrating again, as he felt himself drifting further and further away…

“Outrageous!” A thunderous roar shook the vast hall. A zitan wood table shattered into pieces, splinters flying everywhere. An elderly man with graying hair stood, his rage explosive. With his shout, a wave of scorching heat swept the hall, turning the wooden debris to smoke that stung the nose.

The guards stood in rigid rows, not daring to move as the smoke swirled around them, none daring to utter a sound.

“Who can tell me why Mo’er was beaten so severely? How were you protecting him? What exactly happened? Speak! I want every detail!” The old man’s furious voice was like a thunderclap, shaking dust from the rafters.

The lead guard stepped forward, dropped to one knee, and said, “Marshal, if you must punish someone, let it be me. Don’t—”

“Lin Xiong, is that what I asked? Answer my question, now!” The old man’s eyes flashed with fury, as if he would devour those before him.

Lin Xiong shuddered, cold sweat breaking out. He quickly replied, “Marshal, here’s how it happened. Yesterday afternoon, the young master went out as usual. I was leading a ten-man team to protect him. We arrived at… at…”

“At where? Speak! Don’t test my patience!” The old man’s tone was low and dangerous.

“Yes, yes, we arrived at Fragrant Pavilion, and the young master went inside…”

“Scoundrel! He went to that place again! Lin Xiong, how many times have I told you, if that rascal goes to such places, break his legs if you must, but don’t let him in! Have you forgotten?” The old man was shaking with rage, eyes blazing.

Lin Xiong could only smile bitterly to himself, thinking, “Would I dare? If I laid a hand on him, my whole family wouldn’t be enough to pay for it! A servant striking his master—such a thing has never happened.”

“Enough, enough, I know you wouldn’t dare touch him. What you mean is, he sent you all away, then never came out, and you found him badly injured miles away on Mount Luoyun? Those two places are quite far apart.” The old man gradually calmed, his eyes narrowing, a dangerous aura emanating from him.

“Yes, Marshal, that’s exactly it. We can’t make sense of it, but that’s what happened. We waited outside Fragrant Pavilion for about three hours. Normally, no matter what the young master was up to, he’d have come out by then. We started to worry and were about to go in when a stone flew out and struck one of my men, splitting his head open. We found the stone—it was actually a wad of paper. I opened it and learned the young master was on Mount Luoyun.” Lin Xiong spoke honestly, producing a crumpled piece of white paper.

The old man took it. On the paper, five bold characters were scrawled: “Collect the corpse, Mount Luoyun.” The calligraphy was vigorous, brimming with martial energy. For a paper ball to crack open a helmeted guard’s skull, the strength behind it was formidable indeed.

The old man’s expression grew even more grave. After a long pause, he said coldly, “Lin Xiong, spread the word: the manor is under a gag order. This matter is not to be divulged outside. Any violation—death!”

“Yes, sir!”

“And investigate Fragrant Pavilion thoroughly, by any means necessary. Find the mastermind behind this incident. Whoever dared lay hands on my grandson will pay a thousandfold price!”

“Yes, Marshal! I’ll see to it immediately!”

“And one last thing—find out who left you that clue. I will not be kept in the dark—I detest that feeling! Go, and report back the moment you have any information!” Hu Yihu’s voice was heavy, his face dark as thunder.

Lin Xiong and the others, as if granted amnesty, hurried away. The few minutes they had spent there had felt like decades, and the sweat soaking their bodies could have filled a bath.

“Marshal, this matter is anything but simple,” a one-armed elder materialized beside Hu Yihu, his tone full of concern.

“Hmph! It seems some people are stirring up trouble. Ah Fu, you go help as well. Lin Xiong is still too green for this—I can’t rest easy.” Hu Yihu’s expression remained severe, unease evident in his voice.

“Yes, Marshal. Leave this matter to me.” The one-armed man replied solemnly, striding toward the door. At the threshold, he paused and said quietly, “Rest assured, Marshal, the young master’s injuries are no longer serious.” With that, his thin figure vanished beyond the doorway.

Hu Yihu gave a wry smile and shook his head, murmuring to himself, “Nothing escapes that old fox… Mo’er, when will you ever let me rest easy? I truly don’t know what to do with you.”

The room was quiet, fragrant with incense, and heavy with the scent of medicine. Young Master Hu slept for an unknown length of time, feeling as though he had dreamt a long, long dream. In it, he lounged in an internet café, a cigarette dangling from his lips, playing games—until one day he collapsed at his desk, only to find himself in the world of Heavenly Dragon, spending eight years as a servant. Once again, he relived those eight bitter years; every moment replayed in his mind, and in his sleep he broke out in a cold sweat, tossing and turning in distress.

“Damn you, Old Freak Ding, may you all die—every last one of you!”

Hu Mo sat bolt upright, his quilt soaked in sweat. He stared ahead, dazed, as if his soul had left his body.

“Wait… Old Freak Ding? Who is that?”

A stern voice sounded at his ear, and before Hu Mo could react, an old face loomed into view. Strong hands pressed against his head, and a warm energy surged from his crown, flowing into every inch of his body. The soothing sensation made him almost moan aloud.

“Not bad, not bad—the recovery is proceeding well. Most of the bones have healed, and the internal injuries are mostly mended. With another round of tempering with the power of fire, he should be as good as new,” Hu Yihu murmured. His hand grew redder and redder, until it seemed wreathed in flames, burning atop Hu Mo’s head.

The soothing warmth vanished, replaced by a searing pain that shot through Hu Mo’s bones, like boiling oil poured over his flesh. He leapt from the bed, roaring, “Damn it! Are you trying to burn me alive?!”