Chapter 1: The Wastrel Young Master

On the continent of Wenxiu, in the nation of Tingxiang, within Yun City — the Tang Clan estate.

In the rear courtyard pavilion, an elderly man in a long robe stood before a stone table, brush in hand, sweeping strokes across a sheet of paper with fluid, dragon-like grace. Looking closely, one would notice that his hand never actually touched the brush — he was controlling it entirely through his True Qi.

From a distance, he cut a figure of refined leisure and scholarly elegance.

But barely a few strokes in, Old Master Tang's True Qi suddenly wavered. The brush trembled, the tip veered off course, and an ugly, crooked stroke marred the paper. The steward brewing tea nearby felt his cheek twitch — he knew all too well that the old master's mood was anything but pleasant right now.

Slam! Sure enough, the old man who had hoped to soothe his anger through the refined art of calligraphy hurled the brush down onto the table with a thunderous crack and bellowed, "Someone go check if that little brat has woken up yet — and if he has, tell him to drag himself over here!"

"The Heaven and Earth Creation Cauldron… the true method of use is to refine the cauldron's soul and use one's own body as the cauldron! I started cultivating the wrong way from the very beginning, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never advance further on the path of Alchemy…"

Tang Yan muttered these words in a daze, then his eyes snapped open and he jolted upright with a start. "Wait — didn't the Heaven and Earth Creation Cauldron explode and blow my body apart? How am I still conscious?"

Snapping fully awake, Tang Yan found himself lying on a soft couch, surrounded by furnishings of extraordinary opulence.

Then, a torrent of information suddenly surged through his mind. Two sets of memories collided and began to merge, and Tang Yan's head felt like it was splitting apart.

After a long while, Tang Yan finally let out a slow breath and eased himself out of the pain. He quickly sorted through the memories, and his expression turned decidedly strange.

He had come from Earth — the most mysterious Alchemist of the inner jianghu.

The cultivation lineage had existed in China since ancient times. But as the ages progressed, all cultivators went into hiding, scattering themselves among mountains and rivers, in cities and markets, forming what was known as the inner jianghu.

The explosion of the Heaven and Earth Creation Cauldron had somehow allowed his soul to seize a new body, transmigrating into a young man who shared his exact name — Tang Yan — and who happened to be the eldest young master of the Tang Clan.

Learning that he now held such an esteemed identity, Tang Yan felt a small measure of comfort. At least he was a young master — this rebirth wasn't entirely for nothing.

But very quickly, Tang Yan's expression fell…

This world revered martial might above all else. The cultivation system was divided into five realms — Heaven, Earth, Profound, Yellow, and Origin — each realm further split into nine grades.

The previous owner of this body had only reached the second grade of the Primary Realm!

Pathetic!

Digging further through this guy's past deeds, Tang Yan felt the urge to transmigrate right back.

If someone were to write a book about this fellow's sixteen years of life, the title "How a Piece of Trash Was Forged" would fit perfectly.

Tang Yan himself had begun studying music, chess, calligraphy, and painting at the age of five, while also delving into martial arts and alchemy texts. He entered the path of Alchemy at seven, was known throughout the inner jianghu as the Little Pill King by twenty-four, and at thirty-eight became an Alchemy Grandmaster capable of refining ninth-grade Pills!

Across the entire world, those who could stand as his equals were few and far between. Countless people of the inner jianghu had benefited from his Pills and owed him no end of favors.

Even the most powerful cultivators at the peak of their strength would still respectfully address him as Pill Saint upon meeting him.

Compared to himself, the previous Tang Yan truly deserved to find a block of tofu and bash his head against it!

And the reason he had been able to transmigrate here in the first place was because the previous owner had harassed Lin Dongxue, the City Lord's daughter, and attempted to assault her — only to be intercepted by Liu Zhi, the eldest young master of the Liu Clan, who had shattered his cultivation core and left him gravely wounded.

This body, already hollowed out by years of wine and debauchery, had been pitifully frail to begin with. After taking those injuries, it simply gave out — and Tang Yan's soul had collided with this ruined shell in a twist of fate.

As for the failed assault, something about it felt off to him — but he had only just arrived, and his mind was still in disarray.

He was just about to think it through when a clear, urgent voice rang out.

"Young Master, this is bad — the Old Master, the Old Master is calling for you!" A maidservant came rushing in, flustered and breathless.

"I know," Tang Yan replied unhurriedly, straightening his clothes at a leisurely pace.

"Young Master, the Old Master said… he told you to hurry up and get over there…" Seeing that the young master was still dawdling, Little Cui grew anxious and whispered a quiet reminder.

Hearing Little Cui's words, Tang Yan paused, then reached over and ruffled her head with a grin. "Sounds like it's urgent."

The Tang Clan's young master was no longer the wastrel he used to be. He knew perfectly well why his grandfather was summoning him — it was nothing more than a lecture and a scolding. Why would he rush over just to get an earful?

Besides, his head still wasn't fully clear. If he said the wrong thing and the old man brought his palm down, he might lose half his life on the spot.

That said, knowing the old master's temperament, if he didn't show up, the man would certainly come storming over here — and then there'd be no avoiding a beating.

"All right, I'll head over now. Get me a robe."

"Your robe, Young Master." Little Cui acknowledged and quickly retrieved a long robe.

Tang Yan took the robe — and his face immediately darkened.

The silk robe was riddled with holes from top to bottom, and dangling from the edges of every single hole were strings of golden ornaments.

Even with all his experience from his previous life, Tang Yan had never seen anything so bizarre in all his years.

"This is mine?"

"Young Master, isn't this your favorite robe? You had Old Wang alter it seven times before you were satisfied." Little Cui said softly, though her eyes were full of curiosity — the young master today seemed so different from usual.

"Strip off all the gold ornaments and put them away. Throw out the robe and bring me something normal to wear." Tang Yan nearly spat out a mouthful of blood, once again marveling at the eccentricity of his predecessor. If only that creative energy had been channeled into cultivation, his cultivation core would never have been shattered by someone else.

Once he had changed into a plain robe, Little Cui looked at the young master — stripped of his usual arrogance — and a thought suddenly crossed her mind, one that even she found hard to believe: had the young master turned over a new leaf?

Drawing on his memories, Tang Yan made his way toward the rear courtyard.

From a distance, he spotted a broad-shouldered, powerfully built elder, brush in hand, painting with an air of leisurely calm.

Yet with his keen perception, Tang Yan could still sense the faint but unmistakable undercurrent of fury radiating from the old man — fury directed squarely at himself, just as he had expected.

"Greetings, Grandfather." Tang Yan steeled himself and stepped forward to pay his respects.

Old steward Uncle Mo said nothing. The servants nearby didn't dare make a sound either. Though the old master's face showed no outward sign of anger, the frozen stillness that hung over him was suffocating.

That stillness was finally broken by Tang Yan's arrival.

Slam!

Crack!

Old Master Tang hurled the brush down onto the stone table a second time — and the brush handle snapped clean in two.

"You little brat, you've got some nerve! I could overlook your usual idleness and troublemaking, but now you've gone and tried to assault the City Lord's own daughter — and you couldn't even manage that! You've dragged the Tang Clan's name through the mud completely!"

Old Master Tang was truly ferocious — the very first thing out of his mouth was scandalous. Attempting to assault the City Lord's daughter and failing — that was what shamed him?

"When you were six years old, I personally tested your martial aptitude. You inherited the finest bloodline of our Tang Clan — upper-realm talent. If you had cultivated properly, would your cultivation core have been shattered? You were the one in the wrong first, so you deserved to be beaten. Where am I supposed to go to argue otherwise?"

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Edited by Fat Goose