Chapter One: Even in Death, the Demonic Heart Shows No Remorse
"Hand over the Spring Autumn Cicada obediently, Fang Yuan, and I'll grant you a swift end!"
"Fang Yuan, you fiend! Cease your futile resistance! Today, the righteous sects have united to crush your demon's lair. A dragnet has been laid here—your fate is sealed, and you will die!"
"You vile devil, Fang Yuan! To refine the Spring Autumn Cicada, you have slaughtered millions. Your sins are monstrous—unforgivable, beyond redemption!"
"Demon! Three hundred years ago, you violated me, stole my innocence, and butchered my entire family, erasing my clan! From that moment, I have longed to tear your flesh and drink your blood! Today, I will make you wish for death rather than live!"
...
Fang Yuan stood in a tattered emerald robe, his hair disheveled and body drenched in blood, surveying his surroundings.
The mountain wind made his bloodied robe flutter, snapping like a battle flag.
Crimson blood gushed from hundreds of wounds across his body. In the brief time he had been standing, a large pool of blood had already formed at his feet.
Enemies encircled him, leaving no escape.
The situation was settled—death was certain today.
Fang Yuan saw the truth clearly, yet even as death loomed, his expression remained unchanged, his gaze calm.
His eyes were deep, like an ancient well or a profound abyss, as unfathomable as ever.
The righteous heroes encircling him included venerable sect leaders and renowned young talents. They surrounded Fang Yuan tightly—some roaring, some sneering with cold smiles, some squinting with wary glints, and others clutching wounds while staring in fear.
None attacked, all wary of Fang Yuan's final, desperate counter.
The tense standoff lasted three hours. As the sun set, the remaining light ignited the evening clouds along the mountain's edge, blazing brilliantly for a moment.
Fang Yuan, who had been still as a statue, slowly turned.
The heroes stirred, each stepping back a pace.
By now, the gray-white rocks beneath Fang Yuan's feet were stained dark red with blood. His face, pallid from blood loss, was suddenly tinged with a rosy glow by the sunset.
Gazing at the green mountains and setting sun, Fang Yuan chuckled softly. "Green mountains, setting sun, autumn moon, spring breeze. Indeed, black hair at dawn turns to snow by dusk; triumphs and failures vanish in an instant."
As he spoke, memories from his past life on Earth suddenly surfaced.
He had been a student in China, who by chance transmigrated into this world. After three hundred years of wandering and over two hundred years of dominance, more than five hundred years had flown by in a blink.
Memories buried deep in his heart now sprang to life, vividly replaying before his eyes.
"In the end, it was a failure." Fang Yuan sighed inwardly, feeling some emotion but no regret.
He had long foreseen this outcome. When he made his choice, he had been prepared.
The so-called demonic path meant rejecting goodness, embracing slaughter and arson. Rejected by heaven and earth, faced with enmity from all, yet he had reveled in his dominance.
"If the newly refined Spring Autumn Cicada works, in the next life, I shall still tread the evil path!" With this thought, Fang Yuan couldn't help but burst into loud laughter.
"Fiend, what are you laughing at?"
"Everyone, be careful! The demon is about to make a final strike!"
"Hand over the Spring Autumn Cicada now!"
The heroes pressed closer, and just then—*boom*—Fang Yuan self-destructed.
...
Spring rain fell softly, silently nourishing Green Thatch Mountain.
Night had deepened, with a cool breeze drifting through the drizzle.
Yet Green Thatch Mountain was not dark. From the mountainside to the base, countless faint glimmers shone, as if draped in a radiant belt of light.
These lights came from numerous stilted bamboo houses. Though not a myriad households, they numbered in the thousands.
This was the Ancient Moon Mountain Village, nestled on Green Thatch Mountain, lending a touch of human warmth to the vast, serene peaks.
At the heart of the village stood a grand, magnificent pavilion. A sacrificial ceremony was underway, so it blazed with lights, splendid and radiant.
"Ancestors, bless us! May the Opening Aperture Ceremony yield many talented youths, bringing new blood and hope to our clan!" The Ancient Moon Clan Patriarch, middle-aged with frost at his temples and clad in solemn white ceremonial robes, knelt on the tawny wooden floor. He sat upright, hands clasped, eyes closed in fervent prayer.
Before him stood a tall, black-lacquered altar with three tiers holding ancestral tablets. Bronze incense burners flanked the tablets, their smoke curling upward.
Behind him, over a dozen others knelt as well. They wore loose white ritual garments—family elders and leaders who held power in various domains.
After praying, the Patriarch bent forward first, laying his palms flat against the floor and kowtowing. His forehead tapped the brown wood, producing soft thuds.
The elders behind him, all solemn-faced, silently followed suit.
For a moment, the ancestral hall was filled with the quiet sounds of foreheads meeting the floor.
When the ceremony ended, the group slowly rose and silently exited the solemn hall.
In the corridor, the elders exhaled softly, the atmosphere easing.
Murmurs gradually arose.
"Time flies so fast. In a blink, another year has passed."
"The last Opening Aperture Ceremony feels like it was just yesterday—it's still so vivid."
"Tomorrow is the annual Opening Aperture Ceremony. I wonder what new talents will emerge this year."
"Alas, I hope to see youths with Grade A aptitude. It's been three years since our Ancient Moon clan had such a genius."
"Indeed. The White Family Village and the Bear Family Village have both produced geniuses in recent years. Especially White Ningbing from the White family—her talent is truly terrifying."
Someone mentioned White Ningbing, and the elders' faces darkened with worry.
That child's aptitude was exceptional. In just two years, she had advanced to a Third Turn Gu Master. Among the younger generation, she was unrivaled. Even the older generation felt the pressure from this rising star.
Given time, she would undoubtedly become a pillar of the White Family Village—a force to reckon with. No one doubted that.
"But among the youths participating in this year's Opening Aperture Ceremony, there is still hope."
"True. A genius has appeared in the Fang lineage. He could speak at three months and walk at four. By age five, he could compose poems and recite verses—exceptionally intelligent and talented. Sadly, his parents died early, and he's now raised by his uncle and aunt."
"Ah, that's precocious, and with great ambition. I've heard of his recent works: 'Toasting Song,' 'Ode to Plum Blossoms,' and 'River Town Ballads'—a true genius!"
The Patriarch was the last to leave the ancestral hall. As he slowly closed the door, he heard the elders' discussions in the corridor.
He knew at once they were talking about a youth named Ancient Moon Fang Yuan.
As the clan leader, he naturally paid attention to outstanding and exceptional members. Ancient Moon Fang Yuan was the most brilliant among the younger generation.
Experience showed that those with innate gifts—like perfect memory or strength rivaling adults—often possessed excellent cultivation potential.
"If this child is tested to have Grade A aptitude and is nurtured well, he might even rival White Ningbing. Even if it's Grade B, he will surely become a pillar and a banner of our clan. But with his precociousness, Grade B is unlikely—it's highly probable to be Grade A." This thought brought a faint smile to the Patriarch's lips.
He then coughed lightly and addressed the elders, "Everyone, it's late. To prepare for tomorrow's Opening Aperture Ceremony, please rest well tonight and conserve your energy."
The elders heard this and paused, exchanging glances laced with hidden vigilance.
The Patriarch's words were subtle, but all understood their meaning.
Every year, the elders fought fiercely—sometimes to the point of flushed faces and bloodshed—over these talented youths.
They needed to rest and gather strength for tomorrow's competition.
Especially for Ancient Moon Fang Yuan—his chances of having Grade A aptitude were high. Moreover, his parents were gone, and he was one of the last two orphans of the Fang lineage. If he could be absorbed into their own lineage and well nurtured, it could ensure their branch's prosperity for a century!
"However, let me be clear: compete fairly. No underhanded tactics that harm the clan's unity. Remember this well, elders!" the Patriarch warned solemnly.
"We wouldn't dare."
"We will remember."
"I'll take my leave now, Patriarch."
The elders, each lost in thought, gradually dispersed.
Soon, the long corridor fell silent. Spring rain and breeze drifted through the window, and the Patriarch stepped lightly to the windowsill.
Instantly, the fresh, moist mountain air filled his senses, refreshing his spirit.
This was the third floor of the pavilion. The Patriarch gazed out, taking in most of Ancient Moon Mountain Village.
It was deep into the night, yet most households still had lights burning—unusually so.
Tomorrow was the Opening Aperture Ceremony, vital to everyone's interests. An air of excitement and tension gripped the clan, so it was natural that many couldn't sleep soundly.
"This is the hope of our clan's future." Reflecting the scattered lights in his eyes, the Patriarch sighed softly.
Meanwhile, another pair of bright eyes quietly watched the glimmering lights in the deep night, filled with complex emotions.
"Ancient Moon Mountain Village... is this five hundred years ago? The Spring Autumn Cicada truly worked..." Fang Yuan murmured, his gaze deep, standing by the window, letting the wind and rain buffet him.
The power of the Spring Autumn Cicada was to reverse time. Ranked seventh among the Ten Great Legendary Gu, it was no ordinary entity.
In essence, it meant rebirth.
"Using the Spring Autumn Cicada to be reborn, back five hundred years!" Fang Yuan extended his hand, staring intently at his young, slightly pale palm, then slowly clenched it, feeling the reality.
The soft patter of rain on the windowpane filled his ears. He closed his eyes slowly and opened them after a moment, letting out a sigh. "Five hundred years of memories... they feel like a dream."
But he knew clearly—this was no dream.
(P.S.: At last, the new book meets you all. As mentioned in the ending of "Supreme Beast Tamer," the protagonist is evil, and this book will be controversial. I hope readers will check the prologue to understand what kind of book this is. I've said what needs to be said there. If you enjoy it, let's embark on this wonderful adventure together. At the start of the new book, your collections, recommendations, and comments are the best encouragement.)