013 His Nightmare [Part 4]

  "You slut! I show interest in you, and now you insult me?!"

  Nee Chen blankly watched as Xiang Ya recoiled from the forceful slap, her body twisting mid-air before she crashed into the side of a hut. The wooden wall cracked and splintered, and she tumbled through it, rolling until she hit another structure, leaving a streak of blood on the dirt.

  “Time to collect everyone’s bones,” The demon sneered, his eyes filled with perverse delight. “But first, I will hurt you good! Ah, where are my manners? My name is Zha Dong… and this Zha Dong is about to play with you!”

  Demonic qi swirled around his palm, dark and malevolent, as he strode toward Xiang Ya’s crumpled form.

  Nee Chen’s mind snapped.

  "You fucker! If you want to hit someone, hit me!"

  With sheer will, Nee Chen forced his body to move. He ignored the numbing fear, ignored the screaming in his head telling him to run. His heart pounded against his ribs like a war drum, his vision turning red with fury.

  Xiang Ya groaned weakly. She could feel several broken bones shifting inside her body. Blood trickled down the corner of her lips as she grimaced in pain.

  Nee Chen dropped to his knees beside her. His hands hovered over her trembling frame, afraid that touching her would only worsen her injuries. His voice was hoarse with desperation.

  "Xiang Ya, please… d-don’t… don’t lose consciousness… Please!"

  Zha Dong chuckled, his amusement clear.

  "What a bunch of insects."

  Nee Chen shivered. A cold sweat drenched his back as despair etched itself onto his face. His arms and legs felt weak, his body collapsing under the crushing weight of powerlessness.

  Was this the end?

  Was this the miserable fate of a farm boy? The demise of One Well Village?

  No. He refused to believe it. But no matter how much he denied it, the reality in front of him was undeniable.

  This was real.

  All of it.

  Zha Dong smirked as he took slow, taunting steps toward them. His gaze flicked down at Xiang Ya, who lay battered and broken in the dirt.

  "What a pity," he mused. "She was kind of my type. Never mind, she's not even that beautiful."

  Nee Chen's body trembled. His head tilted at an unnatural angle as he glared at Zha Dong, his eyes filled with chilling wrath.

  For the first time that night, Zha Dong flinched.

  What… was that?

  A brief, inexplicable feeling of unease gripped him. But before he could dwell on it, a sudden pressure filled the air.

  A strong presence erupted, shattering the night like a roaring flame.

  "You insolent fool!"

  The voice thundered through the village, carrying the weight of power and fury. The wind howled in response, rustling the bloodstained grass and stirring the embers of fallen homes.

  From the darkness, a figure emerged.

  An old man, his back straight and his steps unwavering, carrying a long curved blade. His robes fluttered in the breeze, his face carved with deep lines of age and experience. But his eyes… his eyes burned with righteous fury.

  Zha Dong frowned.

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  Xiang Fu.

  The retired cultivator of One Well Village.

  "How dare you lay your filthy hands on my granddaughter?" Xiang Fu’s voice was brimming with qi, each word sending ripples through the air.

  Zha Dong let out a snort, the momentary tension vanishing from his face.

  "How dare a 3rd-stage cultivator talk to me like that?" He spat with contempt. "Did you think your Will Reinforcement Realm cultivation is enough to deal with me?"

  Xiang Fu did not react to the insult. He simply raised his blade, his grip steady.

  Zha Dong sneered.

  There were eleven stages of cultivation in this world, each one representing a step closer to true power.

  The first four stages—Martial Tempering, Mind Enlightenment, Will Reinforcement, and Spirit Mystery—were known as the Four Earthly Attributes.

  The gap between the first three stages was negligible in the eyes of a true cultivator. But the fourth stage…

  The Spirit Mystery Realm.

  Zha Dong had long surpassed the limits of a mere mortal. His body was tempered to perfection, his mind honed to a razor’s edge, his will unbreakable, and his spirit as vast as the heavens. He could crush boulders with his bare hands, hear whispers from a hundred li away, and see clearly for a thousand.

  And yet…

  Xiang Fu stood before him, unyielding.

  "You would make me taste despair?" the old man said, his voice firm. He lifted his blade, his stance unshaken. "I have been there. It ain't a fun place."

  Zha Dong’s demonic qi churned with excitement.

  "Then let me send you back!"

  ***

  **

  *

  Xiang Fu was born a farmer’s son. His father had expected him to till the soil, sow the seeds, and tend to the farm. It was his fate, his father had repeatedly reminded him.

  But the farmer’s son wanted none of it.

  He left home, chased the path of cultivation, and joined a sect. For the first time, his life felt fulfilling—challenging the world with only his sword at hand. Every waking moment was spent refining his swordsmanship, pushing his limits, and dueling with experts.

  The Biron Kingdom was too small for him.

  So when he reached the Spirit Mystery Realm, he resolved to leave for a higher place—the Azuon Empire.

  With dreams and ambition burning in his chest, he ventured into the golden sands of the Sandwyrm Desert, preparing for his greatest breakthrough. He had only one goal: to ascend to the Soul Recognition Realm—the next step toward immortality.

  But fate was cruel.

  The heavens struck him down.

  Lightning descended upon him like a divine hammer, scorching his body and soul. A Heavenly Tribulation—a trial reserved for those reaching the pinnacle of cultivation—descended upon him before he was ready. Such trials were common for those breaking into the 8th stage and beyond, but for a mere 5th stage cultivator?

  It was unheard of.

  It was unfair.

  It was bad luck.

  The pain was indescribable. His body burned, his dantian cracked, and his cultivation—his life’s work—shattered.

  He fell.

  His ambitions, his dreams, everything—reduced to delusions in the face of divine judgment.

  When he returned to the Biron Kingdom, he was no longer the rising genius he once was. His cultivation had been permanently crippled, reduced to the Will Reinforcement Realm.

  He had lost everything.

  His dreams of greatness had died.

  His path of cultivation had ended.

  And so, he gave up.

  He returned to One Well Village, only to find the graves of his parents waiting for him.

  They had passed while he was away, chasing an unreachable dream.

  He had left home as a young man of twenty, but when he returned, he was a fifty-year-old cultivator, his body still youthful yet his heart aged beyond measure.

  The villagers feared him at first. A cultivator was an outsider, a dangerous existence. But with time, Xiang Fu's amiable personality won them over.

  He became one of them.

  A farmer.

  The irony was not lost on him.

  The boy who had run from the fields now plowed them with his bare hands. But in that simplicity, he found peace. With the strength of a cultivator, he worked faster than any mortal. He became the most acclaimed person in the village, not for his sword, but for his harvests.

  And in that quiet life, he found something greater than power.

  He found happiness.

  He married the village elder’s youngest daughter, had children, and later… a granddaughter.

  His time as a cultivator had ended.

  He was no longer Xiang Fu, the swordsman.

  He was Elder Fu, the farmer.

  He had lived two lives.

  One as a blade-wielding warrior, surviving by the edge of his sword.

  The other as a humble farmer, living for his family.

  And of the two, he cherished the second life far more.

  But the world was unforgiving.

  Cultivation or not, tragedy would always come.

  His wife died of illness.

  His son was devoured by a demonic beast.

  His daughter-in-law died giving birth.

  Every time, he had prayed to the heavens.

  Every time, he had hoped for mercy.

  And every time, misfortune found him.

  But he never let despair consume him. He chose to live for his granddaughter, Xiang Ya. He chose happiness.

  Now…

  Now, it was happening again.

  Another tragedy.

  Another cruel twist of fate.

  Blood stained the ground.

  His granddaughter lay broken and gasping for breath.

  His hands trembled as he gripped his sword. Not again.

  “You shall perish!”

  Xiang Fu lunged forward, his blade singing through the air like a crashing wave.

  CLANG!

  Steel met steel in a furious exchange of blows. In a single breath, they had already crossed a dozen moves.

  Xiang Fu felt it immediately.

  He was outmatched.

  Zha Dong’s Spirit Mystery Realm cultivation gave him an overwhelming advantage in speed, power, and endurance. But Xiang Fu did not care.

  He would not back down.

  He had lost enough.

  He would not lose again.

  Zha Dong sneered as their weapons clashed once more. His eyes glowed with dark amusement.

  “Not bad.”