The next day, the Heavenly Demon Venerable delivered the jade slip containing Zhou Moran's memory fragments as promised.
Chen Chang'an's divine sense sank into the memory fragments obtained from the Heavenly Demon Venerable. The scenes before his eyes flowed like a revolving lantern.
He frowned slightly. An indescribable sense of absurdity welled up in his heart—the way these memories were presented actually reminded him inexplicably of those melodramatic short dramas he had watched in his previous life.
But what shocked him even more than the short dramas was...
Short dramas were at least meant to make the audience feel good. Even if the protagonist suffered endless humiliation in the early stages, there would inevitably be a comeback and face-slapping in the later stages. This would give the frustrated audience a twisted sense of satisfaction.
But Zhou Moran's memories were completely different.
In the initial scenes, the young Zhou Moran had outstanding talent. He was the legitimate son of a cultivation family in the Upper Realm. His future should have been limitless. However, his fiancée and childhood sweetheart were both unusually close to his adopted younger brother. They showed favoritism everywhere.
In the memories, Zhou Moran stood in the rainy night. He watched with his own eyes as his fiancée dug out his spirit root to heal the adopted son. Blood mixed with rainwater and wound into rivers on the ground. Yet he only asked blankly, "Why?"
—Seeing this, Chen Chang'an could still understand.
Taking a million steps back...
After all, he was young and ignorant. First love had just bloomed. The Upper Realm was that kind of environment. Being blinded by emotions was normal.
But the following scenes made his frown deepen.
He had clearly returned as a great saint. He clearly already possessed the strength to crush everything...
In the memories, Zhou Moran sat high on his throne. His cultivation was unfathomable.
His adopted younger brother knelt outside the hall trembling. Those who had once humiliated him were all ashen-faced.
—According to normal development, this should have been the moment of gratifying revenge.
However...
His fiancée just walked in with red-rimmed eyes. She raised her hand and gave him a slap!
"Slap!"
The crisp sound echoed through the great hall.
Zhou Moran's face was knocked to the side. Yet he didn't even use spiritual power to protect himself. He forcibly endured this slap.
What was even more outrageous was that he actually explained in a submissive tone, "Listen to me. Things are not what you think..."
Chen Chang'an: "...?"
Chen Chang'an withdrew his divine sense. A trace of mockery flashed in his eyes.
"For a simp dog to reach this level..." he murmured to himself. "It is truly unprecedented throughout history."
...
Chen Chang'an's divine sense sank into the Spirit Realm once more. He stood on an open field. His gaze swept across the surroundings.
The terrain here was seventy to eighty percent similar to the location of that city in Zhou Moran's memories—surrounded by continuous mountain ranges. A wide river wound from west to east. In the distance, there was also a dense ancient forest.
"This place will do. Though it's still somewhat lacking, it can be refined."
He raised his hand. Spiritual light flowed at his fingertips. With a light stroke—
"Boom—!"
The earth trembled. A majestic city rose from the ground!
The blue-gray city walls soared into the clouds. The towers had upturned eaves and carved beams and painted pillars. Inside the city, streets crisscrossed. Houses were neatly arranged. Shops, taverns, and teahouses were all available. Even the old locust tree at the street corner was lifelike.
Above the city gate, a huge plaque hung high. Three gilt characters were engraved on it in a flamboyant style—
Jade Script City.
It was exactly the same name as in Zhou Moran's memories.
Chen Chang'an nodded in satisfaction. Then with a wave of his sleeve, all the families who had made deals with him yesterday were teleported into the city.
Thousands of people suddenly appeared in an unfamiliar city. For a moment, they looked around blankly. They didn't know what to do.
"Everyone." Chen Chang'an's voice came from the sky. It was calm yet majestic. "This place will be your residence from now on. Within three hundred years, you may thrive and multiply here, but you may not leave."
The cultivators and mortals in the city heard this. They all knelt down and kowtowed, overwhelmed with gratitude.
"Thank you, Immortal, for saving our lives!"
"We will certainly obey the Immortal's decree!"
They had no idea that the moment they stepped into this city, restrictions had already been quietly planted in everyone's minds. For the next three hundred years, they would live generation after generation according to the "script" carefully written by Chen Chang'an.
Especially one Zhou surname family—their appearances, temperaments, even their ways of speaking, all began to subtly change. They gradually moved closer to the appearance in Zhou Moran's memories.
Chen Chang'an stood on the clouds. He looked down at this city he had built with his own hands. A cold glint flashed in his eyes.
He wanted to make everything here "real" to the extreme—real families, real grudges, real joys and sorrows.
Three hundred years later, when Zhou Moran stepped into this city, he would discover...
Everything here was exactly the same as the past in his memories.
And the ending of this play would be written by Chen Chang'an's own hand.
"Perform well."
Chen Chang'an's figure gradually faded away. Only his final words drifted away in the wind—
...
Several more days passed.
Inside an ordinary room—
The old man suddenly woke up from his dream. Cold sweat had soaked through his clothes.
He gasped violently. His turbid eyes widened. In his pupils were reflected the residual images from his dream—that was another person's life. It was a memory that had been sealed away for a long time.
"I... remembered..."
His withered fingers trembled as they grasped the bedding. His voice was hoarse beyond recognition.
"So it turns out... I am Zhou Moran..."
"Traitor." The Heavenly Demon Venerable spoke coldly. "Give me your life."
Sword light flashed—
"Pfft!"
The cold sword blade pierced through his chest. Blood spurted out.
Zhou Moran lowered his head to look at the sword in his chest. Then he slowly raised his head to look at the Heavenly Demon Venerable. A bitter smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "So it was... you..."
He could feel life rapidly draining away. His body temperature dropped bit by bit. Darkness spread from the edges of his vision.
"This way... dying is fine too..."
In the final moment before his consciousness completely dissipated, he actually felt a trace of relief—
At least... the secrets that Xinyao and Yunyao told me to keep... I kept them...
The next second, darkness completely engulfed all his consciousness.
...
...
...
don't know how much time passed.
In his daze, he heard an extremely familiar voice buried deep in his memory ringing beside his ear—
"Young Master... Young Master..."
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