1-3 This Hedonistic Young Master [Cultivation|Progression|Comedy]

Chapter 1: Heaven's Bargain Mart: Where Dreams Go to Die (and Get Cosmic Neutrino'd)

The fluorescent lights of Heaven's Bargain Mart (天堂便宜市) flickered like dying stars—fitting, considering the tragic comedy that was his life. Yu Cheng, Master of Scanning Groceries, Champion of Price Checks, and future Conqueror of Absolutely Nothing, sighed as he glanced at his faded uniform. At least the badge was crooked—a small rebellion against the absurdity of it all. He plastered a smile on his face, a brittle mask barely concealing the exhaustion beneath, as he scanned groceries for a customer more absorbed in a shouting match on their phone than in acknowledging his existence.

Beep, Beep, Beep.

The scanner's monotonous rhythm marked the seconds of his mundane existence, echoing in the sterile silence.

Customers surged and receded like a relentless tide, each interaction a fleeting ripple of annoyance in the stagnant pool of his shift.

A teenager, eyes like chips of glacial ice, approached the counter, her expression a blend of irritation and impatience. She tapped her foot, her gaze locked onto Yu Cheng with a judgmental stare. "Can you go any slower?" she muttered, her voice dripping with disdain.

Yu Cheng flashed her a smile that didn't reach his eyes. 'Oh, I could try,' he replied, his tone pleasant enough to be mistaken for genuine. 'But I don't want to ruin the magic of anticipation.'

The teenager rolled her eyes dramatically, letting out an exaggerated sigh. "Yeah, whatever," she grumbled, snatching the bag from the counter once Yu Cheng finished. She spun on her heel, her dyed hair flipping as she walked away, muttering something about "useless workers." Yu Cheng watched her go, the bitter retort on his tongue swallowed down with practiced ease.

Next in line was an elderly man, his face creased with lines that spoke of years of hardship and discontent. He placed a cabbage on the counter, his brow furrowed as he pointed at the price displayed on the register. "Two yuan more than it said on the sign!" he barked, his voice gravelly and indignant.

Yu Cheng nodded, his expression one of practiced calm. "I apologize, sir. Let me check the price for you." He picked up the store intercom and called for a price check, his voice steady despite the man's glare. The elderly man crossed his arms, his foot tapping impatiently. "This place is always trying to cheat people," he muttered loudly, making sure everyone in earshot could hear. "Back in my day, shopkeepers had some integrity."

Yu Cheng offered a small nod, knowing better than to argue. "I'll make sure the correct price is applied, sir," he said once the price was confirmed, adjusting the total. The old man huffed, finally handing over the money with a begrudging scowl. "About time," he grumbled before shuffling away, still muttering about the injustices of the modern world.

Just as Yu Cheng allowed himself a moment to breathe, a group of boisterous youths barreled into the checkout area, their laughter echoing across the store. They jostled each other, one of them grabbing a pack of instant noodles from the nearby shelf and tossing it to his friend, who let it drop to the floor with a careless shrug. "Hey, watch this!" one of them shouted, nudging another towards a display stand. The boy stumbled theatrically, knocking over several stacks of goods, the packages scattering across the aisle.

Yu Cheng's jaw tightened as he watched the chaos unfold, the mess growing by the second. He stepped out from behind the counter, his voice raised but still restrained. "Excuse me, could you please be careful with the merchandise?" he called out, his tone carrying an edge of authority.

One of the youths, a lanky boy with a smirk plastered across his face, looked at Yu Cheng, clearly amused. "Chill out, man, it's just some noodles," he said, waving a dismissive hand. The others laughed, their mirth like nails scraping against Yu Cheng's nerves. He took a deep breath, stepping closer. "If you could kindly pick those up, it would be appreciated," he said, his eyes meeting the boy's in a silent challenge.

The boy hesitated, the smirk faltering for just a moment under Yu Cheng's steady gaze. Finally, he shrugged and bent down, picking up a few of the fallen packages. "Fine, fine," he muttered, tossing them haphazardly back onto the shelf. His friends, seeing the lack of enthusiasm, joined in, their laughter fading to grumbles as they helped clean up the mess.

"Thank you," Yu Cheng said, his voice even. The boys gave him a final glance, one of them muttering, "Buzzkill," before they wandered off, their energy subdued. Yu Cheng returned to his counter, the bitterness of the encounter lingering in his throat. This, he mused, is indeed training worthy of a Buddhist monk—the ceaseless practice of 忍 (rěn), endurance, in the face of idiocy. Experience, a harsh but effective teacher, had long instilled the wisdom of silence: speaking his mind only invited trouble, a luxury he couldn't afford.

As the hours bled into each other, the ache in his back deepened, a constant reminder of his physical servitude. His feet throbbed in silent protest, and the coffee in his styrofoam cup underwent a slow, agonizing transformation from lukewarm comfort to a rancid brew. Finally, a reprieve. He slipped into the breakroom, a cramped sanctuary redolent with the stale aroma of disinfectant and overused microwaves, and collapsed onto a plastic chair, the flimsy material groaning under his weight.

His phone, a portal to a world beyond the confines of his reality, flickered to life, a kaleidoscope of fleeting images and empty promises. Social media posts showcased his old high school friends, bathed in the warm glow of laughter and camaraderie. Their smiles, vibrant and carefree, mocked his own weariness, their joy a painful reminder of everything he lacked.

There was a photo of a house party—warm lights spilling out from the windows, bodies in motion, the air electric with music and excitement. People holding red cups, their laughter caught mid-action, carefree expressions frozen in time. He could almost hear the bass reverberating, the infectious energy , a far cry from the silence of his own life. "Damn, how did I end up here?" he thought

He scrolled down, another post—a group of friends in fashionable outfits, their clothes immaculate, curated for the perfect shot. The caption spoke of a night out at a trendy bar, the kind of place Yu Cheng had never stepped foot in. Their smiles, vibrant and effortless, were a stark contrast to the hollow exhaustion that clung to him. He could picture them leaning close, sharing secrets over clinking glasses, the carefree abandon of intoxication—an experience he had never known.

"Must be nice," he muttered, scrolling past a post of yet another engagement, the ring sparkling in a way that made him sick. What he wouldn't give to trade this uniform for a silk robe, a beachside villa, and a world without consequences. Parties, women, travel—now that was living.

A vacation photo was next. His friends on a sunny beach, the sky an endless blue above them, the ocean a sparkling expanse. Their skin glowed with health, their faces carefree, the essence of freedom captured in a single frame. They posed with cocktails in hand, waves lapping at their feet, the golden sun warming their skin. There was a couple—two of his classmates, now engaged—leaning into each other, her ring catching the sunlight, their smiles filled with promise and love. Yu Cheng felt a pang, a deep ache that settled in his chest, a reminder of everything he had never had, every opportunity that had slipped through his fingers.

Another image, a large group of friends at a wedding, arms wrapped around each other, the bride and groom beaming at the center. They were dressed in suits and gowns, the elegance of the event a stark contrast to his rumpled uniform. They looked so happy, so complete, surrounded by friends who celebrated their union. Yu Cheng had never been part of a moment like that, never been someone's first choice to call, never been surrounded by people who truly cared for him.

Parties, drinks, travel, marriage, large groups of friends—the very essence of pleasure seemed to exist solely within the confines of that tiny, illuminated screen. "身在福中不知福 (Shēn zài fú zhōng bù zhī fú)," he muttered, tossing the phone aside with feigned nonchalance, the ancient proverb, "One doesn't know the blessings they have," a bitter irony in his current predicament. The hollow ache in his chest, a persistent void in his soul, betrayed the lie. They were living, savoring the sweet nectar of youth and freedom. He was merely existing, trapped in the amber of his monotonous routine.

He hadn't partied, hadn't experienced the intoxicating blush of romance, hadn't even forged a close friendship since being cast out of his family home at eighteen. His life, a relentless cycle of work, instant ramen, and the constant struggle for survival, felt like an unending winter, devoid of the warmth of human connection.

The minutes stretched into hours as Yu Cheng reluctantly left the break room, forcing himself back into the rhythm of his shift. The beeps of the scanner, the endless procession of indifferent faces, and the persistent ache in his body all blurred together, a monotonous haze that dulled his senses. He moved mechanically, scanning items, responding to complaints, and smiling on cue, each action draining more of his already depleted energy.

As the evening wore on, the crowds thinned, and the store began to empty. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered, casting uneven shadows on the dull linoleum floor. Eventually, the final customers trickled out, and Yu Cheng completed his closing tasks—organizing the shelves, sweeping the aisles, and shutting down his register. With everything in its place, he finally approached the time clock, punching out with a weary sigh, the small act feeling like the end of a battle.

Stepping out of Heaven's Bargain Mart, the cool night air, a stark contrast to the stale, artificial atmosphere within, kissed his face, a fleeting reminder of the world beyond fluorescent lights and demanding customers. He shuffled towards the small park near his apartment, his feet heavy with the weight of his burdens, his mind a fog of exhaustion, his thoughts like fallen leaves swirling in the eddies of a sluggish stream. The city, draped in the murky haze of light pollution, a celestial tapestry obscured by human folly, seemed indifferent to his existence, a vast, uncaring entity oblivious to the struggles of a single, insignificant soul.

The park offered a semblance of tranquility, a small oasis of stillness in the urban jungle. He sank onto a worn wooden bench, the familiar texture a small comfort, his gaze lost in the dimness above, searching for a glimpse of something beyond his reach. The stars, obscured by the city's shroud, were mere whispers of light, their celestial brilliance dimmed by the haze of human activity.

For a moment, he allowed himself to dream, to imagine a life free from the shackles of his current reality. A dream of freedom, a life unbound by the relentless grind of survival, a life where pleasure wasn't a stolen moment but a constant companion. He yearned for the untrammeled freedom of the 逍遥 (xiāoyáo), the carefree wanderers of legend, unbound by worldly concerns.

Then, the veil of the ordinary shattered.

A subtle hum, barely perceptible, vibrated through the air, a discordant note in the symphony of the night. The leaves rustled, stirred by an unseen breeze in the otherwise still air, their gentle whispers carrying an undercurrent of unease. Yu Cheng sat up straighter, his senses sharpening. The air, once cool, seemed to shimmer with an unnatural warmth, a static charge raising the fine hairs along his arms. His heart quickened, a primal instinct warning him that something was amiss.

The sky, a canvas of hazy light, began to ripple, as though disturbed by an invisible hand, the familiar constellations twisting and writhing in a celestial dance of chaos. The distorted stars pulsed and throbbed, their faint glow intensifying until a blinding flash erupted, brighter than any earthly sun, momentarily erasing the familiar landscape from his vision. Yu Cheng raised an arm to shield his eyes, squinting against the brightness, his breath caught in his throat. Fear and awe gripped him in equal measure as the world seemed to unravel around him.

Millions of years ago, in the unfathomable depths of space, two black holes, celestial leviathans, had collided in a cataclysmic embrace. This cosmic dance of titans, a ballet of destruction and creation, had torn a rift in the fabric of spacetime, unleashing a torrent of raw energy across the universe, its echoes reverberating across the eons. By a cruel twist of fate, or perhaps by some unseen design, a wave of high-energy neutrinos reached Earth; one neutrino—a single particle of cosmic energy—reached Yu Cheng, a celestial messenger carrying the whispers of creation, traversing the vast expanse of the cosmos, a journey across unimaginable distances, to find this small, unremarkable park where Yu Cheng sat, lost in his dreams of freedom.

Yu Cheng blinked, momentarily stunned by the rippling sky and the afterglow of the celestial flash. His pulse thundered in his ears, a frantic rhythm that matched the chaos above. He stumbled to his feet, the wooden bench scraping against the ground as he pushed himself upright. "This is really strange (Hái zhēn shì xīqí; 还真是稀奇)," he thought, a wry smile touching his lips. A vast understatement in the face of the cosmic anomaly unfolding before him. He glanced around the park, half-expecting others to emerge from the shadows, drawn by the disturbance.

The world around him seemed frozen in time, a stillness that was at once comforting and disconcerting. The hum grew louder, vibrating through the air, making the very ground beneath him feel alive. Yu Cheng's pulse quickened—this wasn't just any celestial event. This was something… something different.

"Is this it?" he whispered, the excitement bubbling in his chest. "The moment when everything changes?" His grin widened. If this was fate's grand finale, his curtain call on the stage of existence, at least it had a touch of theatrical flair, a dramatic flourish befitting his unconventional life.

The sky twisted above him, constellations warping in ways that made his head spin. The neutrino, a phantom of cosmic energy, a wisp of creation itself, bypassed his physical form, interacting instead with something deeper, something more fundamental—his soul, the very essence of his being. The world around him dissolved into a kaleidoscope of swirling colors, a vibrant tapestry woven from the threads of reality itself.

He felt a strange, disembodied sensation—a pulling, a stretching, a twisting, not of his flesh and bone, but of his very essence, as if his spirit were being unraveled thread by thread, the fabric of his being deconstructed and reformed in the crucible of cosmic energy. The sensation, though terrifying, also held a hint of liberation, a promise of transformation.

Yu Cheng gasped, his vision fracturing into fragments of light and shadow, his senses overwhelmed. He tried to hold on to something—anything—but his hands grasped at empty air, his body weightless, untethered from the earth. He could feel his soul, a shimmering thread, being drawn into the maelstrom, the energy surging through him, filling him with an intensity he had never known. Memories flashed before his eyes—his childhood home, the faces of his estranged family, the sterile aisles of Heaven's Bargain Mart, the moments of quiet despair and fleeting hope—all of it seemed to be slipping away, dissolving into the radiant void.

The last image imprinted upon his awareness was the worn wooden bench, unchanged, steadfast in its ordinariness, a symbol of the mundane life he was leaving behind. He watched, a detached observer, as his physical body slumped back onto the familiar wood, seemingly untouched, a discarded shell emptied of its essence. The park remained silent, the city indifferent to the cosmic drama that had just unfolded, the universe continuing its relentless march forward, oblivious to the fate of a single, insignificant soul. Then, darkness consumed him.

Chapter 2: PINA Coladas and Rebirth

The afterlife, as Yu Cheng discovered, wasn't the serene gardens of the Immortal Realms, nor the tranquil halls where ancestors watched over the living. There were no Ten Kings of Hell reigning over the underworld, no pearly gates or celestial choirs, and no wheel of samsara to carry him to his next incarnation. Instead, it was as if the cosmos had become a calligrapher's ink, spreading in wild, untamed strokes across the void—a swirling canvas of nebulae, pulsating with iridescent light and shifting hues beyond mortal comprehension. Time, a construct of the physical realm, had dissolved into a timeless now. He simply was, suspended in a sea of vibrant nothingness.

Then, a presence. Not a physical form, but a knowing, a vastness that enveloped him, pressing against his awareness with the weight of a thousand suns, yet gentle as a feather's caress. This, he somehow knew, was the Universal Entity—the cosmic janitor, the multiversal maintenance man, the…thing that kept everything from collapsing into itself.

"Well, this is new," Yu Cheng thought, attempting a nonchalant tone despite the awe that threatened to engulf him. "So, am I supposed to bow or something?"

The Entity, seemingly amused by his irreverence, responded not first with words, but with a subtle vibration that rippled through the void. Yu Cheng sensed a hint of…guilt? Regret? It was hard to decipher the emotions of a being beyond human understanding.

"Greetings, Yu Cheng," the Entity's voice resonated within him, not through ears he no longer possessed, but directly into his consciousness. It sounded…amused. "Your…demise…was…unexpected." The word "unexpected" hung in the void, dripping with a cosmic sheepishness. Information about the cause of his death began to flow into his consciousness, each detail settling into his awareness with a surreal clarity.

A ridiculous death, even by his standards. A cosmic hiccup, a stray neutrino dispatched by a black hole collision millions of years in the past, had snuffed out his mundane existence in a flash of celestial brilliance.

Yu Cheng, still processing the sheer absurdity of his death, chuckled, the sound hollow in the vast emptiness. "Unexpected is an understatement. Of course, my luck is so bad I get taken out by a stray particle from two black holes having a lovers' quarrel millions of years ago. Not a car crash, not a terminal illness, but a cosmic fender bender. How does that even happen?"

A cosmic cough reverberated through the void, the Entity studiously avoiding any mention of its own meddling with those very black holes millennia ago. Yu Cheng, sensing the shift, pressed on.

"Look, I'm not gonna lie," Yu Cheng continued, his disembodied voice carrying a hint of defiance. "This whole 'dying because of a black hole sneeze' thing is pretty messed up. Couldn't you have, like, reversed it? Sent the neutrino back to its sender?"

The Entity's response was vague, a cosmic shrug that spoke of limitations even it couldn't overcome. Rules, perhaps, or just a cosmic "oops" moment with no easy fix.

"Well, no use crying over spilled milk—or in this case, getting steamed like a dead pig in boiling water (死猪不怕开水烫)," he thought dryly, echoing a saying his grandfather used to repeat when faced with hopeless situations. "At least I get a do-over."

"So," he continued, ever the pragmatist, "what are my options? Ten thousand years of cosmic napping? A VIP ticket to Heaven's Bargain Mart, Cosmic Edition? Look, if reincarnation is on the table, I want a good deal. My last life was a cosmic blue light special, and not in a good way."

The Entity's amusement intensified, a cosmic chuckle rippling through the void. "Reincarnation is standard procedure. However, given the…unique…circumstances…"

"Unique being the operative word," Yu Cheng muttered, a hint of bitterness lacing his spectral tone.

"…We can offer…adjustments." The Entity's voice held a sliver of guilt. "Though reversing the…incident…is beyond our current capabilities. Let's focus on the opportunity you've been given." The explanation reeked of cosmic red tape and interdimensional insurance policies.

Yu Cheng skipped the finer points of multiversal bureaucracy. "If I get a do-over," he said, a wistful longing echoing in the void, "I want pure, unadulterated fun. No worries, no responsibilities, just pleasure and excitement. Think of it as early retirement, my last life was a bit of a dud."

A pause, then the Entity's voice, laced with intrigue, resonated, "An interesting request. Since you seem inclined towards… fun, we shall grant you a path to power through pleasure. Just remember, Yu Cheng, nothing in life is without balance. Indulgence without discipline is like a river without banks – eventually, it floods and destroys everything in its path."

Yu Cheng's incorporeal eyebrow arched. "Cultivation through pleasure?" He couldn't help the grin that spread across his spectral face. "Now this is interesting… but let's be real here, pleasure and power? Sounds like a good time, but you owe me more than just a vague promise. How about throwing in a personal chef, an unlimited supply of wine, and maybe even a few luxuries I haven't thought of yet? If I'm going back, I want the whole package."

"Indeed," the Entity responded, a hint of exasperation evident in its tone. "Yu Cheng, your audacity is noted, but do not mistake generosity for servitude. You will have guidance on this path, but the luxuries you ask for must be earned. To assist you on this…unique…path, you will be assigned a guide."

The void shifted, coalescing into a figure of breathtaking beauty. Ethereal and regal, she was bathed in radiant light that shimmered like starlight. Flowing robes, woven from moonlight, draped around her, and her eyes held the wisdom of countless eons. Yet, her smile held a warmth, almost…welcoming.

"Yu Cheng," the Entity's voice echoed, "this is the Celestial Guidance Overseer, your…mentor, shall we say. She will instruct you in the ways of the Pleasure-Induced Nirvana Ascension—PINA, for short. We find mortals appreciate brevity."

"Greetings, Yu Cheng," she said, her voice like the music of the spheres. "I am your Celestial Guidance Overseer, and I shall guide you on your path."

Yu Cheng couldn't help but grin, his gaze fixed on the radiant figure before him. "I've always imagined being guided by a beautiful goddess. Can't say I'm disappointed!"

The Celestial Guidance Overseer raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint, amused smile. "Flattery, while charming, will not make your path any easier, Yu Cheng. Though, I must admit, you're not the first mortal to try. Focus, and perhaps you will find the results you seek."

Yu Cheng, his disembodied consciousness focused on the radiant figure "*PINA, huh?*" he repeated. "*I like it already.*" It sounded like a cocktail, refreshing and potent. Perhaps with a little umbrella. He was already planning the garnish.

The Celestial Guidance Overseer raised a graceful brow, her lips curving into a faint smile. "I see your humor remains intact, Yu Cheng. Good. You will need it. This journey you have requested is not without its challenges. The Dao of Hedonism, as you might call it, requires balance and finesse. True pleasure is not mere indulgence; it is the art of fulfillment, the mastery of desires without losing oneself."

Yu Cheng frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "I didn't think I actually said that," he muttered, half to himself.

The Celestial Guidance Overseer gave him an understanding smile. "In this space, Yu Cheng, your thoughts and your being are one and the same. Here, there is no distinction between what you think and what you express."

"Ah... I see," Yu Cheng said, nodding thoughtfully. Despite his words, his thoughts kept drifting back to the possibilities offered by the PINA method, a mix of curiosity and excitement bubbling up inside him. "Wuwei (无为) in action, right? You ride the flow of the universe, no sweat, no struggle. Sounds like my kind of art. So, what's first? Do I start meditating on a beach somewhere, sipping cocktails while I contemplate the nature of pleasure? Or is there something a little more hands-on?"

She shook her head, her gaze both amused and indulgent. "Yes, and don't forget the tiny umbrella. I hear that's essential for cultivating your way to enlightenment."

Yu Cheng laughed, his disembodied form vibrating with mirth. The Overseer's humor had caught him off guard, and for a moment, he allowed himself to imagine it—lounging on a beach, sipping cocktails, with cultivation being as easy as that. But her expression shifted slightly, and he sensed the gravity behind her next words.

"No, your journey will require practice—immersive practice, in fact. The world you will enter is one steeped in tradition, where pleasure and indulgence are seen as obstructions to the paths of enlightenment for those who understand the true nature of restraint. You must learn to balance your desires, to turn pleasure into power, without succumbing to excess."

Yu Cheng blinked—or at least, the essence of blinking resonated in his disembodied state. "Balance? Sure, sure, I'll think about that later. So you're telling me that I can *actually* cultivate by enjoying myself... but I need to do it wisely? Like some kind of cosmic self-help guru?"

She let out a soft laugh, the sound like wind chimes echoing through the void. "If that analogy pleases you, Yu Cheng, then yes. Do not take this lightly. The path ahead will test your resolve and discipline. It is easy to be consumed by desire, but far more challenging to command it."

Yu Cheng paused, considering her words. "You know, this is actually sounding better and better. I'm tired of the old routine—the endless grind, the empty goals. If there's a chance for me to cultivate by seeking joy, real joy, I'll take it." He hesitated before adding, "I suppose there's something poetic about mastering my own indulgence, given the way my old life went."

The Celestial Guidance Overseer nodded, her expression softening. "Very well. There will be rules, of course, and challenges that you must overcome. Pleasure will be your tool, but wisdom must be your guide. Now, are you ready to begin this journey, Yu Cheng?"

Yu Cheng's spirit surged with newfound excitement. "Hell yes, I'm ready. Let's get this pleasure cultivation started!"

The Overseer's form shimmered, her hands weaving symbols in the air that glowed with ethereal light. "Then let us waste no more time. The first lesson is one of patience and awareness. Before indulgence, there must be understanding."

Yu Cheng watched, enraptured, as a circle of shimmering symbols encircled him. The energy that spread through him was unlike anything he had felt—warm, electric, and filled with promise. The Overseer's voice, though soft, held an authority that resonated deep within him.

"You will be placed into a young master's body, one born into privilege but bound by expectations. Your challenge, Yu Cheng, will be to take the expectations of this new life and forge your own path—a path filled with joy, indulgence, and enlightenment. Be wary, though—your indulgences will be tested. Others will not understand your pursuit, and many will seek to challenge you. Stand firm, but be wise. True power is not found in brute strength, but in mastering the essence of your desires."

"So, reincarnation is basically like quitting a job you hate, only to find out your next gig still has paperwork, huh? I thought this was going to be all sunshine and booze," Yu Cheng said, a wry grin spreading across his spectral face. 

For a moment, he remembered the monotony of his old life—the exhaustion, the endless loop of boredom—and shuddered. No, this time he was going to live. Really live. His tone shifted, filled with newfound enthusiasm. "Don't get myself killed, have fun, and prove everyone wrong. Sounds like a blast."

The Overseer's smile widened. "We shall see, Yu Cheng. Now, let your journey begin."

A warmth spread through Yu Cheng, a tingling energy that felt like reality itself weaving a new tapestry around his soul. Faint cosmic whispers echoed—ethereal farewells from a realm beyond comprehension. The void spun, faster and faster, propelling him forward into blinding light.

Chapter 3: Young Master Wastrel: The Art of Spilling Wine and Squandering Potential

Yu Cheng awoke cocooned in a silken embrace, the remnants of a forgotten dream clinging to the edges of his awareness. Warmth seeped into his limbs, a sensation foreign and yet strangely familiar. The bed beneath him was far too soft, an opulent comfort that starkly contrasted with the rough cot of his previous existence. His senses stirred reluctantly, drawn into this new world of rich textures and muted light.

He opened his eyes. A golden haze bathed the chamber, sunlight filtering through intricately woven curtains. His gaze traveled across the room—every surface seemed to shimmer with wealth. Silks, crimson like fresh blood, draped across the bed, and the walls bore ornate carvings of mythical beasts and celestial figures, the gold and jade intricacies blurring into one another. The air was thick with the cloying sweetness of incense, layered with the sharper tang of spilled wine.

A jolt of confusion rippled through him. Yu Cheng moved to sit up, but his limbs resisted, sluggish and uncoordinated. His muscles ached, as if they hadn't been used properly in years. Slowly, he raised his hands—slender, pale, adorned with jade and gold rings that caught the dim light. He flexed his fingers experimentally, the jade rings clinking together, their weight foreign against his skin. These hands weren't his. 

Panic flared, tightening like ice around his heart. Where was he? Who was he?

The answer came with a sudden, overwhelming flood of memories—visions of excess and indulgence crashing over him in vivid, chaotic waves. He saw himself—or rather, the body he now inhabited, Tian Hao—laughing amid lavish banquets, surrounded by fawning admirers and swirling cups of wine. The scent of perfume, the sound of raucous laughter, the weight of a life lived in the lap of luxury.

The Skyward Lotus Sect—those words surfaced in his mind, accompanied by images of the sprawling sect grounds, majestic pavilions nestled among the peaks, and disciples clad in azure robes practicing their arts in courtyards. He saw the imposing main hall, carved from mountain stone and adorned with symbols of the lotus flower. 

His memories shifted to his father, Tian Shou—an intimidating figure, clad in robes of deep blue embroidered with silver, his presence commanding and his eyes often narrowed in disapproval. Tian Shou, the Sect Master, whose ambitions for the Skyward Lotus Sect ran deep, had always seen Tian Hao as a potential successor—though one plagued with squandered potential.

The sect's power was not just in wealth, but in the art of cultivation. His memories brought flashes of disciples seated cross-legged in meditation, absorbing the very essence of the heavens and earth into their cores. Cultivation wasn't just about power—it was about transcending mortal limits. Yet, in his past life, such ideas would have been laughable, confined to the fantasy novels he barely glanced at during breaks.

More scenes flashed through his mind—training sessions in which he, Tian Hao, stood reluctantly before a stern instructor, his stance lazy and his attention often wandering. Flashes of the judgmental stares of fellow disciples, those who had worked tirelessly to earn their place, watching with barely concealed disdain as Tian Hao treated his privileged status like a game. Tian Hao had been eating his laurels—chi laoben(吃老本), his father might say—with an insatiable appetite. While others broke their backs for a sliver of respect, he had drifted through life on the strength of his lineage, squandering every opportunity that came with it. He remembered the hushed conversations, the whispers behind his back, those who spoke of him as a disgrace to the Tian Clan and a burden to his father.

In this world, power wasn't measured by money or status symbols—it was measured by the strength of one's Qi, the level of one's cultivation, and the ability to defy death itself. Yu Cheng, now Tian Hao struggled to wrap his mind around it, but the memories pressing into him painted a clear picture.

He remembered the time Tian Shou had caught him sneaking out of a training session. 'What will you do when I'm no longer here to cover your mistakes, Tian Hao?' his father had said, his voice a mixture of exhaustion and anger. "This sect cannot afford a weak leader, especially not one who prioritizes pleasure over power." In his father's eyes, he had become mud that could never hold up a wall (làn ní fú bù shàng qiáng; 烂泥扶不上墙), no matter how many times someone tried to shape it. It wasn't just disappointment, it was hopelessness.

Tian Hao remembered the cold weight of his father's hand on his shoulder, the only physical connection between them. 'You are my son,' Tian Shou had said, his voice like stone. 'But I won't let you be my weakness.' The words had been as cutting as a blade, but even now, in this haze of new memories, a part of Tian Hao yearned for his father's approval.

Despite this, there were moments—brief, fleeting glimpses—when he saw Tian Shou looking at him, not with anger, but with something like hope, as if waiting for his son to finally rise to the expectations placed upon him.

As memories of his father's stern gaze resurfaced, Yu Cheng now Tian Hao's shoulders tightened, his grip on the robe turning his knuckles white. Yet, as the scent of incense and wine filled his nostrils, he let out a sigh and allowed himself to sink back onto the silken cushions.

Then there were the banquets—the elaborate gatherings that Tian Hao seemed to excel in. He could see himself reclining lazily on silk cushions, surrounded by sycophants who laughed at his jokes and filled his cup without question. He remembered their faces—some familiar, others nameless, all eager to remain in the young master's favor. He saw flashes of opulent dining halls, with lanterns glowing softly, the air thick with incense, wine flowing freely as music played. These were the moments where Tian Hao had embraced his role fully, drowning in pleasure to escape the weight of his father's ambitions and the sect's expectations.

There was also a memory of a confrontation—Tian Shou's voice ringing through his mind, harsh and cold. "When will you understand what it means to bear the name Tian? Our lineage is not one of indulgence, but of strength and responsibility." The disappointment in his father's eyes had cut deeper than Tian Hao had let on. The words, sharp as a blade, echoed within him even now, mixed with a sense of guilt and defiance.

The flood of memories ebbed, leaving Tian Hao standing amidst the remnants of his past self's excesses. The weight of Tian Shou's expectations, the disdain of his fellow disciples, and the fleeting moments of genuine connection all swirled together, a complex tapestry of a life that was both his and not his. He was Tian Hao now.

Tian Hao.

The name pulsed through his mind, like the tolling of a distant bell. He was Tian Hao. Not the poor, humble, nameless man he'd once been, but the sole heir to the prestigious Tian Clan. A man known for squandering wealth as easily as others might breathe. A notorious silkpants—a young master who chased pleasure with the same recklessness others reserved for life and death. 

He remembered the disastrous duel where he drunkenly faced a rival from another clan, embarrassing not just himself but the entire Tian Clan. Or the time he squandered precious sect resources on a frivolous festival that left many shaking their heads in disgust.

Tian Hao, the wastrel. Tian Hao, the disappointment.

He sat up, the silken sheets sliding from his bare chest as the full scope of his new reality settled over him. The chamber around him was not just a monument to wealth—it was a shrine to the decadence Tian Hao had reveled in. Empty wine cups lay strewn across the floor, their contents staining the polished wood. Robes, discarded in haste, lay crumpled like fallen petals. Everything bore the mark of unrestrained indulgence.

His head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing in rhythm with the memory of too much wine, the cloying scent of incense still clinging to his senses, and the roaring laughter of sycophants urging him deeper into the excesses of the night. He pressed a hand to his forehead, willing the room to stop spinning. Somewhere, deep in his consciousness, the Celestial Guidance Overseer's words echoed.

'Your challenge, Tian Hao, will be to take the expectations of this new life and forge your own path—a path filled with joy, indulgence, and enlightenment.'

A bitter smile curled his lips. Enlightenment

He had once dealt with impatient customers and minimum-wage monotony; now he was expected to balance the delicate energies of the universe in the palm of his hand.

Tian Hao 2.0 forced himself to stand, his legs shaky beneath him as he stumbled toward a large mirror mounted on the wall. The figure reflected there was striking—a young man with high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and dark, intelligent eyes that even the haze of last night's revelry couldn't dull. His disheveled hair framed his face in wild, unruly strands, and his luxurious blue robe, embroidered with silver thread, hung crookedly from his broad shoulders, stained with the remnants of spilled wine.

He looked every inch the spoiled young master he'd now become.

His mind wandered back to the scene in the park, that flash of cosmic brilliance, the inexplicable voice that had promised him a new journey. The transition had been anything but smooth, and yet the world he found himself in now seemed to promise more than just survival—it promised indulgence, freedom, and a chance at something more vibrant than the mundane life he'd left behind.

"Well," he muttered, running a hand through the tangles of his hair, "this isn't so bad."

He turned away from the mirror, his eyes swept the room, the scent of incense and wine still clinging to his senses. He paced, each step deliberate, as if testing his body, testing his new reality. This wasn't a life he had chosen, but it was the one he had now. Despite the weight of expectations pressing down on him, there was something tantalizing about it all. The Dao of Hedonism, the Overseer had called it.

Indulgence, freedom, and power. Could he really forge a path from such chaos?

His lips twisted into a smirk. Why not? His old life had been mundane—gray and cold. This world, for all its decadence and deceit, thrummed with a vibrancy he could almost taste. Here, there was power in the air, an energy that hummed beneath his skin, a world ripe with possibilities.

This body, this life—he could push boundaries here, take risks, and no one would stop him. Who in this world could deny the son of a sect master his indulgences? He would have to be careful though—too much recklessness and he might squander his newfound opportunity before even beginning to understand it.

With renewed resolve, he clenched his fists, the silk of his robes bunched in his grasp. "Alright, Tian Hao," he said aloud, his voice ringing through the empty chamber. "Let's see what kind of fun we can have."

The thought immediately soured. A sudden tightness seized his chest, as if the weight of the room itself had settled on him. He reached up, pressing a hand to his sternum, fingers curling into the fabric of his robe. His breath hitched, his mind scrambling to hold on to the faint traces of his past—his old name, his old life—but they slipped away, leaving him with only the hollow echoes of who he used to be. He couldn't even remember his own name. It was as if the man he once was had been erased, his past life reduced to a vague blur. Now, there was only Tian Hao.