Transmigration

Zǔ Zhòu woke up with a jerk, breathing heavily, drenched in sweat. His heart pounded in his chest as he frantically touched himself all over, checking for anything wrong.

'Wasn't I judged? How am I still alive?' he thought to himself. Confused about how he was still breathing.

Before Zǔ Zhòu could question anything else, a flood of memories—memories that weren't his—overwhelmed his mind.

Visions played, revealing a 16-year-old Second Young Master of a powerful family, who was a cowardly trash, always using common phrases like:

"Roll!" — "You are courting death!" — "Ancestor, save me!"

Despite saying all that to others, he was simply playing the role of a chicken posing as a dragon in public, unfortunately everyone knew how useless he was.

Hell, his own family ignored him, viewing him as a lost cause. Even the servants treated him with no respect.

Feeling alone, he had isolated himself in his room, hiding away from the world, and refused to come out.

Nobody checked on him, nobody cared.

So, he had starved himself to death.

This coward was named Feng Shen.

Before the vision ended, a torrent of additional memories flooded Zǔ Zhòu's mind. With that, the vision finally stopped.

"So, it seems I've transmigrated," he muttered, reaching up to touch his face, feeling the warmth and flesh beneath his fingers, something he hadn't felt in a long time.

Even his voice, once distorted, now flowed soothingly and calmly, though it was still very weak.

Having lived for millions of years, Zǔ Zhòu was no stranger to concepts like transmigration and reincarnation; they were a commonplace phenomenon. Therefore, he felt no surprise at that.

What truly baffled him was how he had escaped the judgment of the Heavenly Dao, the most powerful being in all of existence. He had been certain that his soul would be destroyed, yet here he was, in a new body.

However, Zǔ Zhòu knew that pondering the reasons behind his soul surviving would lead him nowhere.

More pressing matters occupied his mind, such as reclaiming his original power, achieving immortality, and continuing the path he had forged in his previous life.

Though that would be more challenging in this new life, as Zǔ Zhòu noticed that inside his body, his spiritual roots were Grade E, showing that his cultivation progress would be painfully slow.

His meridians were blocked, but that was manageable; he could easily unblock them. His dantians remained intact, which was a small comfort.

Either way, Zǔ Zhòu was accustomed to the struggle for power. He had fought tooth and nail for even the slightest bit of strength in his other life, willing to do anything, no matter how immoral.

He had risen from being a mere mortal to becoming the strongest, most feared cultivator in the Nine Heavens.

This minor setback was nothing for Zǔ Zhòu.

Glancing around the spacious, luxurious bedroom, his gaze settled on a grand mirror.

In the reflection was a young man, precisely as the memories had depicted: long golden hair cascading down his back, glowing golden eyes.

At the moment, he lay in bed; the blanket covering only his waist and below, exposing his chest and revealing a skinny frame so bony that the outline of his ribcage was starkly visible.

Zǔ Zhòu sighed deeply. He knew he would have to fully assume this new identity. Reluctantly, he discarded his original name and resolved to replace this coward.

"Feng Shen... My name is Feng Shen…" he muttered, as if trying to make the name fit. He repeated, allowing the words to sink in, wanting to get used to this new identity.

He wanted to complain some more, but held back; Feng Shen wasn't so ungrateful as to dismiss this second chance at life. He would have accepted any vessel, as long as it meant living another day.

The most reassuring aspect for Feng Shen was that he still felt the connection to his forbidden bloodline, bound to his soul.

Although it appeared to have been reset to its lowest level, he was satisfied with it for the time being.

Ggrrgl!

"Fuck, I'm hungry and thirsty…" Feng Shen clicked his tongue in annoyance, as he heard his stomach remind him of the untreated state of this body.

Starvation and dehydration, two sensations he hadn't experienced in a long time. Such needs were annoying.

At his previous level of cultivation, Feng Shen no longer required the mundane necessities that mortals or lower-level cultivators depended on—food, water, sleep, even the need to relieve himself.

He knew it would take some time to get used to this new body, and he understood he needed to eat to regain some-sort of strength before he could begin unblocking his meridians.

"Baby steps…" Feng Shen told himself. He wasn't in any rush; there was no timer pressing upon him. Patience, despite not being his strong suit, was what he needed right now.

He glanced to his right and spotted a small golden bell made to summon a maidservant to his bedroom for any reason.

Feng Shen pressed the bell, wanting to demand some food and water. 

However, as seconds turned into minutes, agitation bubbled within him. Nobody had answered his summons.

It had been ages since Feng Shen felt such disrespect, a sensation he loathed deeply.

Clenching his frail hands together until they drew blood, he began hammering on the bell, not stopping until someone would respond.

"What do you want?" a flat voice called from outside the door, and the maidservant entered. She crossed her arms beneath her medium-sized chest, her expression deadpan. "This better be important."

Recalling from the memories, Feng Shen recognized this young lady as Xiǎo Bāo, a girl adopted by his family and assigned to care for him.

She was his personal maid. 

Xiǎo Bāo had long, black hair tied in a ponytail and striking, light gray eyes. Her attire consisted of a simple white Hanfu made of soft cotton, lacking any intricate designs.

Xiǎo Bāo patiently awaited the Second Young Master's response, though her reluctance was clear.

She wanted to be assigned to someone far superior, like the First Young Master, who was truly a dragon among men.

Yet, she was stuck with this piece of trash. Though Xiǎo Bāo was kinda surprised he had actually called for her and spoken instead of relying on his usual method of writing.

Grinding his teeth, Feng Shen wanted so badly to place her teeth against a rock and stomp on her head. Yet he held himself back, forcing a smile.

"I demand you, um... I mean, I need your—uh, assistance with something," he stammered, trying to find the right words to be polite. "I... Um… Need food. I need something to eat and drink."

Xiǎo Bāo rolled her eyes, barely offering a curt bow. "At once, Second Young Master."

Despite her usual emotionless demeanor toward everyone, Xiǎo Bāo held a special disdain for him. However, she couldn't bear the thought of watching him starve to death on her watch; she wasn't that cold-hearted.

The moment the door shut behind Xiǎo Bāo, Feng Shen's forced smile vanished. His golden eyes darkened. Madness flickered within them as his expression twisted slightly.

"Uh~ I can't wait to see you in pain~."