After all, having grown up in a modern, law-abiding society, Feng Zhaoyun had never killed anyone. Even if this person were to die, he wouldn't have cared much, but Feng Zhaoyun didn't think he was so strong that a single kick could kill someone. So he stepped forward to check the man's breathing.
Alright, weak breathing—but still alive.
Feng Zhaoyun thought casually, then took the opportunity to observe the person.
The young man had long black hair tied halfway up, the rest cascading down his back. His face was still youthful, probably only fifteen or sixteen years old, yet already carried signs of striking handsomeness. His features were sharp and cold. Feng Zhaoyun couldn't help but recall the look this person had given him earlier—icy, emotionless, filled with wariness, as though he could carve Zhaoyun up at any moment—and he really had done just that. No different from a wild wolf.
Thinking about this, Feng Zhaoyun couldn't help but remember the sharp pain that had pierced through his chest earlier. Goosebumps instantly broke out all over his body, and he gave the young man a few more kicks for good measure.
"Hmph looks younger… and better-looking."
Feng Zhaoyun looked into the large mirror he had just conjured. In it, he wore a long red robe, his hair reached down to his back, and his face looked youthful as if he were sixteen again—energetic but immature.
"Looks like I have transmigrated into ancient times. I wonder what era this is…" Feng Zhaoyun muttered. Then he suddenly closed his eyes and repeatedly tried to recall that strange voice he'd heard, hoping it would respond again.
"You have only one chance to make contact. Are you sure you want to use it now?"
A cold voice echoed in Feng Zhaoyun's mind. He couldn't help but frown, silently gritting his teeth. Stingy! So damn stingy! Limiting the number of times they could talk, and it was just one time?! What kind of logic was that?!
However, faced with his current situation, Feng Zhaoyun had no choice but to accept.
"What are your questions?" the voice asked in his head.
Feng Zhaoyun immediately launched a barrage of complaints: "My character's supposed to be a villain! And what kind of era is this, anyway? The script didn't say anything about me getting attacked the moment I arrived—stabbed right through the chest! I'd be dead already if I hadn't been clever and resourceful!"
"If you were clever and resourceful, you wouldn't have needed me," the strange voice replied flatly.
Feng Zhaoyun: "…" This damn thing needs to die.
"You are not in any historical era. This is the Cultivation World. If you'd ever read a novel, you should have figured it out when you saw the script," the voice said slowly.
"I never read novels," Feng Zhaoyun replied dismissively.
"Then you're in for more surprises."
That line from the strange voice gave Feng Zhaoyun a bad feeling. He hesitated, asked, "Then… what does Heart Demon mean?"
He felt the answer would be something he didn't want to hear. And sure enough, the answer came:
"That's right. In the script, you are the Heart Demon—Feng Minghan's Heart Demon. He's the youth currently lying on the ground. You manifested because Feng Minghan was disappointed with the world full of malice. You led him down the path of cultivation, only to stab him in the back the moment he broke through his realm. But in the end, you were the one who died. Feng Minghan rose on the path of cultivation, and his future was bright. The sooner you complete your mission, the sooner you'll gain a physical identity to exist in this world."
"Wait… then right now…" Feng Zhaoyun didn't want to say what he was thinking.
"That's right. Right now, you are in Feng Minghan's Sea of Consciousness. As his Heart Demon, you can only exist within his subconscious," the voice explained directly.
Feng Zhaoyun: "…"
"Why didn't you say so earlier? You are a fraud. Seriously, with how the world is these days, you can't trust anyone you meet on the street!" Feng Zhaoyun was full of dissatisfaction.
But that voice showed no concern for his complaints: "If you have no further questions, I will take my leave."
"Hey, hey, wait a minute!" Feng Zhaoyun called out, but it was already too late. The voice had vanished entirely. The opportunity to speak was now gone, and within Feng Zhaoyun's mind appeared detailed records of this world and Feng Minghan's past—so meticulous that it even included the exact age Feng Minghan stopped wetting the bed.
However, Feng Zhaoyun was not interested in browsing through someone else's dark history at the time. A vein on his forehead throbbed. Thinking about the fact that he had to share a body with someone who stabbed him through the heart upon first meeting, his gaze toward the unconscious Feng Minghan lying to the side grew noticeably less friendly. Considering he had been beaten the moment he arrived, those people likely had been beating up Feng Minghan. However, Feng Minghan was too weak and passed out, so he took the hit instead.
Feng Zhaoyun: "..."
The future looks grim. The more he thought about it, the more annoying Feng Minghan seemed.
Still, Feng Zhaoyun realized Feng Minghan, who was about to share his body with him, couldn't possibly be too happy about it either if he wasn't happy, then good. That thought made Feng Zhaoyun feel much better.
Ignoring Feng Minghan lying there, he began observing his surroundings.
Feng Minghan's Sea of Consciousness was truly dark and empty.
The sky looked like it was about to break into a heavy storm—the kind of weather Feng Zhaoyun hated the most. The ground was dull gray, with no sign of green vegetation. Only a few twisted black plants poked out here and there. In the distance, the horizon was visible. At a glance, it looked no different from a giant graveyard.
As Feng Zhaoyun wandered through the Sea of Consciousness, he discovered it wasn't infinite. An invisible barrier formed a massive circle, like a wall that couldn't be broken through—he would never be able to reach the actual horizon.
After estimating its size, Feng Zhaoyun casually created a long stretch of grass to divide the Sea of Consciousness in half. He kicked Feng Minghan over to his side, then conjured a fog barrier between the two halves so that guy couldn't see what was happening on his side.
No matter how displeased Feng Minghan might be, Feng Zhaoyun was already here. He wasn't about to let himself get pushed around. Besides, wasn't he supposed to die at Feng Minghan's hands in the future to pave the way for his bright future?
Feng Zhaoyun thought this through with complete reason and righteousness, waved his hand, created a bed, and promptly lay down to sleep.
Too much had happened today. It was the most eventful day in his entire twenty years of life. He was slightly worn out—he needed rest. And he was sure that once he woke up, even more exciting things would await him.