Well… it's been a week since I woke up.
Lî Wéi's cloth was a thin fabric with only an oversized short trouser. In broad daylight, he worked pushups under the dazzling sunlight.
His sweat dropped like heavy rain as he struggled, barely pushing past his limits. He was muttering about the current situation.
As someone who didn't finish reading the novel, he was heavily dependent on outcomes around him, and more especially his past life profession—'politician.'
"So-o… now results are going to escalate to my plan. Not to mention that I'm now able to enter the palace."
I had officially become a demonic cultivator and at the same time a crystal cultivator. The thing is, I'm a human born in the royal family of the Fourth Kingdom—the kingdom whose palace lay right beneath the Central Crystal, the core from which all living beings drew their life force.
At the same time, there is the devil inside of me. A mystery even to those who read the novel.
He is a devil, but not our typical devil. A real devil. I know for a fact that he was just an unfortunate human who became one. That's why the prologue had my cozy ass backing me up with information about the novel.
The author himself claimed:
"I know for the fact that the devil inside of Aric is a human, though not many of you will believe me until you understand his past."
Not that it matters to me. I dropped the novel anyway. Now I regret it. I was just a kid… my elementary self was still a kid, whatever.
Anyway, it's almost certain that the devil wasn't even a pure devil or anything else suspicious. The devil himself once told me:
"I only want to live with my mother…"
Pathetic words. But enough for me to believe he hadn't even been born evil.
And am I wrong for saying all I want is to live peacefully with my pregnant wife in my own world? Maybe I can relate to that.
---
Lî Wéi stared at the ground. His face looked ready to explode. His hands shook like a jackhammer. He had reached his limit and collapsed on the grass.
"Sixty… huh? I—I'm t-too we–ak…"
Inhaling deeply through his nose, he stared up at the mountain. His gaze fixed on the middle of the mountain where the infamous castle of the Fourth Kingdom stood.
His skin rippled like a cat bristling at danger. His hair rose, dancing with the wind. It was beautiful blond hair—originally. After the contract, he had perfect control over his body, more agile than before. His dim blond hair had turned lighter, with red-tinted ends.
His eyes turned dim red whenever he sensed demonic cultivation.
The reason his body reacted just from gazing at the mountain was because someone unwelcome—someone with **demonic energy—**had entered the castle.
Lî Wéi smiled and closed his eyes. Suddenly, his soul left his body, flashing toward the demonic energy sealed beneath a talisman.
A piercing sound echoed—wandering souls screaming, murmuring. His spiritual soul pierced through walls, leaving unimaginable pain and a pounding headache.
Dizzily, he tried to see the face of the man who held the core of the demonic energy. He saw a strange power flowing around him. It was red, almost black.
It was the Crimson Soul.
The Crimson Soul was more like mana, for those who only read about it in the novel. But now he knew—it was like a snake coiling tightly around the man.
Lî Wéi struggled. Then, in an instant, everything snapped back. A dark rope tied around his body and pulled him violently back. His soul slammed into his flesh like a giant hand had thrown him across time and space.
The man had a black beard and mustache streaked with red. Dressed in a flashy coat and suit, his smile was one that could scare a lion from its slumber. Though he appeared normal, there was nothing natural about him. He was completely abnormal.
The Crimson Soul floated above him like a caged serpent, bound beneath a talisman covering his body.
Crystal Armor.
Hundreds of years ago, a genius from the Third Kingdom—Crimson Viel—created it. Demonic cultivators could not directly contact the Central Crystal, or they would die. Instead, they cultivated through their own fake crystal. From this, Crimson Viel created the special talisman known as Anvilium.
The demonic cultivators were citizens of the Crimson Veil. Their difference lay in whether they cultivated the Central Crystal directly or indirectly. With their false crystal, they reverted crystal energy into demonic energy. Crimson Viel's Anvilium not only held the Crimson Veil's power but compressed it into the skin, allowing its reflection to flow outside the talisman. The more demonic energy it had, the more Crystal Soul it released.
Lî Wéi had seen it all. He let out an evil smile as he woke in pain.
"Hm… I've seen enough. No need to stress. I'll say hello when it matters most."
Of course, he would never help for free. Not even his father, whom he only saw as the owner of this body.
This manipulative tactic is often referred to as 'orchestrated heroism' or a 'calculated rescue.' It is a psychological strategy, often employed by those with Machiavellian traits: they stay silent, allowing danger to grow, only to step in at the last moment and "save" the day. By fabricating the crisis, they maximize their perceived heroism, gratitude, and social credit—without ever offering genuine help.
Smiling faintly, he walked back to his mansion. Once there, he searched for a pair of needles and thread.
Among his clothes, he found a bathrobe that could serve as a model to recreate a Shenyi. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would honor his past—and sharpen his focus on one goal: returning to his world.
At night, while trying on his crude, hand-made Shenyi, his heart surged with blood.
It felt like his chest exploded.
The reason
was simple:
An old man stood before the king, a sword pointed at the king's throat.