Chapter Two: Struck by Lightning

When Qin Cheng awoke, a sharp pain shot through his head. The moment he opened his eyes, his vision was still blurred. He shook his heavy, muddled head and finally, slowly, the world before him came into focus.

Blue sky, white clouds, a few birds flitting by, lush green mountains and forests below, fields of gold stretching over the land, a broad country road winding on into the distance with a few scattered dwellings just visible at its end.

Is this heaven?

Qin Cheng shook his head. Someone like him, if he died, surely belonged in hell.

Looking around, could hell really look like this?

Could it be... he wasn’t dead after all?

Impossible!

The moment that thought arose, Qin Cheng mercilessly dismissed it. He remembered clearly: he’d walked straight into an ambush, betrayed by the woman he loved most, surrounded by the police. He recalled the countless bullets flying toward him—he should have been riddled with holes long ago.

He let out a bitter laugh at the thought. Who would have guessed that the overlord of the underworld in his province, a man who survived endless bloody turf wars and brutal underground fighting rings in his youth, would not die at the hands of his foes, but would ultimately fall to the police.

All of a sudden, his mind thundered with pain, a wave of dizziness surging over him as a torrent of information exploded in his brain, shaking every nerve until they ached. Clutching his head, he pressed his forehead to the ground, gritting his teeth in silence.

Sweat poured down like rain.

It was a long time before the pain finally subsided and he could breathe again. Slowly, he lifted his head, shock and disbelief written on his face.

The torrent that had just erupted in his mind revealed the truth of his current existence.

He was still Qin Cheng, but now, in the era of Emperor Wu of the Western Han, an ordinary infantry conscript stationed at a frontier garrison.

It all seemed absurd—had he not died from those bullets, but instead, at the very moment a bolt of lightning struck a tree under which this other Qin Cheng had been sheltering from the rain, he had somehow merged with this man and been reborn?

So it seemed. This was what people called transmigration.

Qin Cheng felt his head swim all the more.

What kind of damned situation was this?

There was no time to ponder further. Suddenly, he heard the distant thunder of hooves, rapidly approaching. Qin Cheng looked up to see four fierce-looking cavalrymen in dark armor, long sabers hanging at their waists, quickly riding into view.

Qin Cheng stared at them in a daze, as memories from his newly acquired mind surged forth. That one—his name was something like... yes, and that one had a different name... if his memory served him right, these were their names.

Had he truly arrived in another era? Were these before him genuine, flesh-and-blood men of ancient times?

“Qin Cheng! Damn it, I finally found you!” The first to dismount was a burly young man, powerfully built. He strode up to Qin Cheng in three long steps, grabbed him by the collar, and hoisted him off the ground with a glare full of rage. The anger that had been simmering in him now erupted like a volcano at the sight of the culprit before him.

“Dong Chu?” Qin Cheng blurted out, both to test whether the information in his mind was accurate and to gauge his current predicament, paying no heed for the moment to being manhandled. He spoke tentatively, before the young squad leader could do anything more.

“You dare call me by name, you little bastard?” Dong Chu’s anger burned even hotter.

Smack! Dong Chu slapped Qin Cheng hard across the face, the crisp sound echoing for dozens of yards.

Qin Cheng’s eyes narrowed. Only now did he realize he’d made a mistake; when someone’s got you dangling in the air, glaring daggers at you, confirming their identity should not be your first priority. There were more urgent matters to attend to.

He resolved to correct this mistake. Qin Cheng had always been quick to admit and fix his errors—a habit honed by years in the underworld.

But then he noticed something awkward: he’d just woken from what must have been a long faint, his body still stiff and weak. In this state, he couldn’t count on being able to take down the man who was holding him up with one hand as if it cost him no effort at all. And behind Dong Chu stood three other soldiers.

If the information in his head was correct, these three were Dong Chu’s men, and his own squad mates. One against four—all soldiers—and in his current feeble state, there was little chance of coming out on top.

This was a real predicament.

Qin Cheng felt a twinge of embarrassment. He was not a rash man—years in the underworld had taught him to keep his cool—but when it came to a matter of dignity, it was sometimes hard to choose between impulse and restraint.

Fortunately, Dong Chu, still in a towering rage, did not intend to prolong Qin Cheng’s embarrassment. After landing another ringing slap, he flung Qin Cheng aside with a sweep of his arm. As Qin Cheng was still airborne, Dong Chu’s right foot shot out like lightning, striking him hard in the stomach.

Qin Cheng made no sound as his body flew nearly three meters before crashing to the ground. The sharp pain in his gut told him this brute had real strength. Yet curiously, that kick seemed to have jump-started his blood flow, or perhaps it was Qin Cheng’s own mounting anger making his heart beat faster, but he felt his body rapidly recovering—he might soon regain half his strength.

“You worthless bastard, you made me lose face before General Li, ruined my prospects! You cowardly deserter, today I’ll cripple you!” Dong Chu cursed, rushing over and raising his foot to stomp on Qin Cheng.

Qin Cheng’s gaze grew cold as Dong Chu approached. He subtly adjusted his posture—just a slight shift, but enough to give him the upper hand if Dong Chu, careless and overconfident, left himself wide open.

Qin Cheng was ready. Dong Chu’s earlier insult—calling him a bastard—had pushed him past the point of caring about consequences. He was prepared to fight with everything he had.

In his previous life, the most important person to Qin Cheng had been his mother, who had raised him single-handedly since he was a child. Anyone who insulted her, even in words, would pay a heavy price.

Just then, a figure darted forward and grabbed Dong Chu from behind—it was Wu Daliang!

“Squad leader, stop! Qin Cheng is weak—looks like he’s sick again. If you hit him any harder, you’ll cripple him for real!” Wu Daliang clung to Dong Chu desperately, shouting anxiously. As a veteran, he knew better than anyone the destructive power Dong Chu’s blows could inflict on the scrawny Qin Cheng. He himself wasn’t sure he could withstand a full-force strike from Dong Chu, let alone Qin Cheng, who’d always been the squad’s weakest member.

Wu Daliang signaled to the other two conscripts for help, but they, long cowed by Dong Chu’s tyranny, only pretended to look elsewhere, ignoring his plea.

“Let go!” Dong Chu roared, struggling to break free. After two failed attempts, he realized that Wu Daliang, as a seasoned soldier, had some skill in wrestling. “Wu Daliang, get off me! Are you tired of living, meddling in my affairs?”

“Squad leader, Qin Cheng was wrong, but General Li has already ordered us to take him back for military justice. Don’t make things worse! He can’t take your beating. Look, the tree trunk is scorched, and Qin Cheng’s face is blackened—he must’ve been struck by lightning. It wasn’t intentional—ah—!”

Wu Daliang’s words were cut short by a sharp elbow to the right side, then another to the head as Dong Chu twisted and swung his left arm. Wu Daliang managed only a cry before being sent flying, crashing to the ground unconscious.

“Damn you for meddling in my business! I don’t care if he was struck by lightning. All I know is he ruined my future!” Dong Chu bellowed, too enraged to recall that if things had really happened as Wu Daliang said, his own future would be unaffected, since Qin Cheng would no longer count as a deserter.

Having dealt with Wu Daliang, Dong Chu turned, face still contorted with rage, to deal with Qin Cheng, only to find him already standing before him, apparently unharmed.

Huh?

Dong Chu was puzzled. He knew full well the force of that earlier kick—any soldier of decent build would have been down for the count, let alone the usually frail Qin Cheng. Yet here he was, back on his feet.

But Dong Chu didn’t dwell on it. He charged straight at Qin Cheng—if you can stand up, I’ll just knock you down again! That was all he thought.

“You worthless bastard, we are mortal enemies now. Today, I’m going to cripple you!” Dong Chu roared, as if only such words could vent the hatred in his heart.

Qin Cheng stood still, looking at Dong Chu with icy eyes, contempt written in his brow. As Dong Chu drew near, the corner of Qin Cheng’s mouth curled into a cruel smile.

Cripple me?

You?

You’re courting death.