Chapter Two: Enlightenment Against the Flow of Five Hundred Years
Legend has it that a River of Time exists in this world, sustaining the flow of all existence. With the power of the Spring-Autumn Cicada, one can swim upstream and return to the past.
Opinions on this legend are divided. Many do not believe it, while others are skeptical.
Almost no one is truly convinced.
Because every use of the Spring-Autumn Cicada demands a life—one's entire body and all cultivation must be sacrificed as fuel for the journey.
The price is exorbitant. Worse still, even after paying with one's life, the outcome remains unknown.
Even if someone obtained the Spring-Autumn Cicada, they would not dare to use it carelessly.
What if the legend were merely a hoax?
Had Fang Yuan not been cornered, he would not have used it so quickly.
But now, Fang Yuan believed with absolute certainty.
Because the ironclad fact was undeniable—he had truly been reborn!
"A pity about losing such a fine Gu. Back then, I exhausted every effort, slaughtered hundreds of thousands, incurred the wrath of heaven and earth, and endured endless hardships to refine it..." Fang Yuan sighed inwardly. Though reborn, the Spring-Autumn Cicada had not come with him.
Humans are the spirits of all creation, while Gu are the essence of heaven and earth.
Gu are myriad and strange. Some disperse after one or two uses, while others can be reused if not overexploited.
Perhaps the Spring-Autumn Cicada was a single-use, consumable type of Gu.
"But even if it's gone, I can refine another. I succeeded in my past life—why not in this one?" After the initial regret, a surge of ambition stirred within Fang Yuan.
To be reborn, the loss of the Spring-Autumn Cicada was entirely acceptable.
Moreover, he still possessed a treasure beyond measure.
This treasure was his five hundred years of memories and experience.
His memories held countless undiscovered secrets, events that would allow him to grasp the flow of history, countless figures—some hidden cultivators, some prodigies, some yet to be born. And the weight of five hundred years of arduous cultivation, rich combat experience.
With these, he held the advantage of foresight and initiative. With careful maneuvering, dominating the world and reasserting the might of a legendary demon lord was not only possible—he could ascend even higher.
"So how should I proceed..." Fang Yuan, ever rational, swiftly gathered his thoughts and gazed into the rainy night beyond the window.
Upon reflection, the threads of fate were countless.
After pondering for a moment, his brow furrowed deeper.
Five hundred years was a long time. Even forgetting the hazy memories, the remembered treasures, hidden realms, and opportunities of immortal masters were mostly scattered far and wide or required specific timing to access.
"The key is cultivation. My primeval sea is not yet opened. I haven't even stepped onto the path of a Gu Master—I'm merely a mortal. I must cultivate quickly, advance before history unfolds, seize every advantage."
Many hidden treasures required sufficient cultivation to be claimed and utilized. Without it, they would only bring calamity.
The first challenge before Fang Yuan was his cultivation.
He needed to advance swiftly. If he moved as slowly as in his past life, it would all be for naught.
"To advance quickly, I must leverage the clan's resources. In my current state, I cannot even navigate the perilous mountains—an ordinary boar could end my life. If I can reach the third stage of a Gu Master, I'll have basic self-protection and be able to traverse this world."
From the perspective of a demon lord tempered over five hundred years, Green Thatch Mountain was truly small, and the Ancient Moon stronghold felt like a cage.
Yet a cage confines freedom while also offering a measure of safety.
"For now, I'll bide my time within this cage. Once I reach the third stage, I'll leave this remote backwater. Fortunately, the Awakening Ceremony is tomorrow. Soon after, I can officially begin my cultivation as a Gu Master."
At the thought of the Awakening Ceremony, long-buried memories surfaced.
"Qualifications, huh..." He let out three cold laughs, staring into the night.
Just then, the door creaked open, and a young boy stepped in.
"Brother, why are you standing by the window in the rain?"
The boy was slender, slightly shorter than Fang Yuan, with features strikingly similar to his.
Fang Yuan turned, a flicker of complexity crossing his face.
"It's you, my twin brother." His brow arched slightly, his expression returning to its habitual aloofness.
Fang Zheng lowered his head, staring at his toes—his signature gesture: "I saw your window was open and wanted to close it quietly. The Awakening Ceremony is tomorrow. If Uncle and Aunt learn you're still up, they'll worry."
He was not surprised by Fang Yuan's coldness; his brother had always been this way.
Sometimes he thought, perhaps geniuses were simply different. Though they shared nearly identical faces, he himself was as ordinary as an ant.
Born from the same womb, why was heaven so unfair? It granted his brother a diamond-like brilliance while leaving him as dull as a pebble.
Everyone around them would say, "This is Fang Yuan's brother."
Even Uncle and Aunt constantly urged him to learn from his brother.
Sometimes, when he looked in the mirror at his own face, he even felt a surge of disgust.
These thoughts had lingered for years, piling up in his heart like a crushing stone. Over time, Fang Zheng's head bowed lower, and he grew ever more silent.
"Worry..." Fang Yuan thought of his uncle and aunt, suppressing a silent scoff.
He remembered clearly: the parents of this body had perished together during a clan mission. At three years old, he and his brother became orphans.
His uncle and aunt, under the guise of guardianship, openly seized their parents' estate and treated the brothers harshly.
Originally, as a transmigrator, Fang Yuan had planned to keep a low profile. But the hardships of life forced him to reveal his extraordinary "talents."
So-called genius was merely the rationality of a mature soul, plus a few timeless Tang and Song poems from Earth.
Even this small display earned him astonishment and widespread attention. External pressure compelled the young Fang Yuan to adopt a cold demeanor—a mask to protect himself and reduce the chance of exposure.
Over time, coldness became his habitual expression.
Thus, his uncle and aunt could no longer mistreat the brothers. As he grew older and his future looked brighter, their treatment improved.
But this was not love—it was investment.
Foolishly, his brother failed to see this truth, blinded by their uncle and aunt, harboring resentment toward him. Though he now appeared obedient and honest, the memories revealed that after being diagnosed with a Grade-A talent, when the clan invested heavily in his cultivation, that hidden jealousy and hatred would explode—targeting, tormenting, and suppressing his own brother.
As for Fang Yuan's own qualification...
The highest was only a Grade C.
Fate loved its jokes.
Twin brothers: the elder with only Grade C talent, yet revered as a genius for over a decade. The younger, overlooked, actually possessed Grade-A talent.
The Awakening results shocked the clan. The brothers' positions and treatment utterly reversed.
The younger brother soared like a dragon taking flight; the elder fell like a phoenix losing its wings.
What followed were repeated provocations from the younger brother, cold stares from his uncle and aunt, and disdain from the clan.
Did he hate?
In his past life, Fang Yuan hated—his insufficient talent, the clan's ruthlessness, fate's injustice.
But now, with five hundred years of life experience, he reviewed this history with a calm heart, devoid of hatred.
What was there to resent?
Put himself in their shoes: he understood his brother, his uncle and aunt, and even the righteous enemies who besieged him five centuries later.
The strong preyed on the weak; the fittest survived. That was the world's fundamental nature.
Moreover, each pursued their own destiny, vying for that sliver of heavenly opportunity. Was mutual suppression and slaughter so hard to comprehend?
Five hundred years had long since stripped away such illusions, leaving only the grand Dao of eternal life in his heart.
Should anyone obstruct that pursuit, regardless of who, it would simply be a matter of kill or be killed.
His ambition was vast. Upon this path, he was destined to stand alone, to face enmity from the world, and to wade through rivers of blood.
This was the epiphany forged from five hundred years of existence.
"Revenge is not my aim, and the demonic path never knows compromise." At this thought, Fang Yuan couldn't help but smile. He turned back to his brother, casting a detached glance. "You may go."
Fang Zheng's heart trembled. His brother's gaze felt like icy blades, piercing straight to his depths.
Under such scrutiny, he felt stripped bare in a snowfield, without a secret to hide.
"Then... until tomorrow, Brother." He dared say no more, slowly closing the door as he retreated.
*(Thanks to friends Aigml, Baoluchigua, and Mingxiao Yanyu0525 for their support. Thanks to Wangshangfeidezhu and Mengli Jinghong Zhaoying Lai for their perfect rating tickets. Your ongoing support is my greatest motivation. Thank you for believing in me, supporting me, and voting for me.)*
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