"This... really doesn't make sense," Yang Huo muttered under his breath.
For over an hour, he had been poring over the story given by that still-missing owl. The narrative supposedly chronicled the interactions between the original Yang Huo and Su Meiying. But while their contact had dwindled in their later years, there should still be plenty of material for him to use.
'But the more I read this, the less sense it makes,' Yang Huo frowned at the screen in front of him.
Nothing, truly nothing, could explain the Su Meiying he had just encountered.
In the story, Su Meiying was exactly as he had expected. A lonely girl unjustly persecuted by her own family. There were moments that showcased her resilience and quiet perseverance, but they fell far short of explaining the massive shift in personality he had witnessed tonight.
Even if she had changed over the long years since the original Yang Huo last saw her…
"Why doesn't she hate me?"
Even Yang Huo had to admit that the original owner of this body was a bastard through and through. He wasn't one to sling crude insults, but the man's sharp tongue was like pouring salt and pepper into an open wound.
He might not have inflicted the wound, but he always made damn sure it stung.
And even if Su Meiying was a living saint who had forgiven him, it still made little sense for her to act so… positively toward him.
"No way... it's not because of the face, right?"
The words came out half-joking, half-disbelieving as Yang Huo turned toward the bronze mirror hanging on the wall.
He stepped closer and studied his reflection.
Long, dark purple hair flowed down his back, held neatly in place by an ornate crown that lent him a regal touch to his appearance. His eyes, a striking gold, glimmered with an intense, almost otherworldly brilliance—a stark contrast to the cold, untouchable aura he exuded.
His skin was flawless, smooth, and.... and.... dammit! Wasn't this body a little too handsome?!!?
'Tsk, this face looks even better than my actual face..... but only slightly though.'
...Yeah, you wished.
With a weary sigh, Yang Huo collapsed onto the soft bed with a dull thud. When he opened his eyes, his gaze drifted back to the screen hovering in front of him, settling on a single name written within the text.
[Yang Huo]
Foreign.
Every time he was called by the unfamiliar name of this original body, it felt like he was being coerced into playing a role in some grand theater.
But after seeing his reflection in the bronze mirror, he could no longer deny it.
From now on, this was his body.
His name.
His reputation.
His backstory.
And whether he liked it or not—his true identity.
He was Yang Huo.
"Oi, System, come out," he called to the screen.
"Oi, System, come out," Yang Huo called to the screen in front of him.
But just like before, there was no response. Only the cold, emotionless interface stared back at him.
Yet Yang Huo didn't look away. As though ensnared by the abyss, he kept his gaze fixed on the unmoving screen. It was unclear what occupied his thoughts—but after a long silence, he spoke again, his voice low.
"System, open the inventory."
Instantly, a new screen materialized before him.
An empty inventory.
Yang Huo let out a long breath.
It seemed his hunch was right... or maybe not? Well, it didn't matter either way. He would test it sooner or later. For now, there were more important things to focus on.
Staring up at the ceiling, Yang Huo retrieved a crystal necklace from his storage ring. A small, eight-sided gem sat at its center, emitting a dark glow reminiscent of the bottomless depths of a vast blue ocean.
Su Meiying's necklace… there has to be something special about it.
Turning it between his fingers, Yang Huo examined the gem carefully, searching for anything noteworthy.
One question kept resurfacing. Why would the System deliberately give him a book documenting the story of the original Yang Huo and his fiancée?
The System didn't strike him as someone that appreciated romance. So who was this so-called fiancée to be so important that the System deemed it necessary to record?
And now that he had met Su Meiying in person, Yang Huo was even more convinced of his conjecture.
'That girl is special. She has to be.'
If that was the case, then whatever she considered important…
…it wasn't unreasonable to think there was genuine value hidden within this necklace.
Unfortunately, the excitement was short-lived. No matter what he tried—different intensities, purer Qi, slower circulation—there was no further response.
'Hmm... since it at least reacts with Qi at all, does it help with cultivation?'
Coincidentally, he had been meaning to try this so-called cultivation anyway.
In his original world, there was no such thing as magical energy permeating the air. Everything he had done so far relied purely on the body's memory. Using the storage ring. Identifying medicinal pills. Activating the spider puppet. Even sensing another's presence.
All because the original Yang Huo had done all of those things countless times.
Which, admittedly, felt a little strange—like his hands, or even his internal energies, responded a fraction of a second before his intent fully formed.
Sitting upright, Yang Huo closed his eyes and settled into a comfortable lotus position, the necklace resting in his palm. Slowly, he began circulating the Qi within his body.
From his stomach to his chest.From chest to head.From head to limbs.From limbs to fingertips——and finally, into the necklace.
…But nothing.
No matter how much energy he poured in, no matter its purity or intensity, most of it dispersed harmlessly around the gem, while the rest was repelled outright.
'This is a complete failure…'
Stucked in his progress, Yang Huo halted his cultivation and opened his ey—
Darkness.
Not dimness. Not shadow.
Pure, absolute darkness stretched in every direction.
Yang Huo had somehow been transported to an unknown realm.
No sky.No ground.No distance or horizon.
Just an endless void.
'Is this the necklace doing?'
He glanced down instinctively. The necklace was gone.
In this very bizarre situation, Yang Huo kept himself calm and tried to stand—
A sharp, explosive pain erupted in his chest.
*Sqwelp!*
The sensation was so sudden, so excruciating, that his mind couldn't immediately process it. His body froze mid-motion as a warm wetness spread across his robes.
Instinctively, Yang Huo reached for his chest.
His fingers met something sharp.
Something embedded in him.
A sword.
It had pierced straight through his heart.
"W-who...?!"
Slowly, he turned his head—and saw a dark silhouette watching him.
Strength drained from Yang Huo's body, and he collapsed to the ground. From below, his eyes remained locked onto the figure looming above him.
Struggling to remain conscious, he felt disbelief twist through his fading thoughts.
It was a familiar face. One he had seen very recently.
One he could not, would not, and should not forget.
But… this man wasn't supposed to be here.
That man… was supposed to be dead.
"Y.... Yang Huo...?" he muttered.
The silhouette spoke, its voice uncannily identical. "And hello to you, Yang Huo…"
"…or should I call you a fraud instead?"
The figure crouched before him, a sinister smile curling on its lips, eyes brimming with malice.
"How's my body?" the figure asked softly. "Do you enjoy using it?"
The voice echoed in his ears as his consciousness began to scatter.
His vision blurred.
His body went still.
He...
...had died.