The first bully rushed at Chen Wuya. He lifted his sword and narrowed his eyes, drawing a breath.

Wen Mengli only taught Lie Zhang the fundamentals, thank goodness. I won’t be able to draw out the full power of my techniques, but neither has my body been warped into learning… whatever technique he knows.

Time seemed to slow. The bully froze, mid-step. Straw floated on the air, golden motes of sunlight dancing on the dust. The sword techniques from his previous life flashed through his mind. His brows furrowed. Chen Wuya stepped forward, turning his sword to the side.

The bully rushed past him and slammed into the back wall of the shed so hard the walls shook. Overhead, the roof jolted on its beams. He bounced off and rounded on Chen Wuya.

Chen Wuya leaped back, jumping out the missing door to the shed and into the dawn.

“Running away? Is that all your ‘master’ taught you?” the bully taunted. He stomped out the door and loomed over Chen Wuya, easily twice his width and a foot taller. A smirk crawled over his lips.

“I wonder if this body can handle the second form,” Chen Wuya murmured. He lowered his sword, tip hovering just above the dirt.

“Ignoring me? We’ll see about that!” The bully slammed his fist down at Chen Wuya.

Chen Wuya swayed gently in place, eyes shut. The fist rushed down at him. Closer. Closer.

He vanished.

“Eh… huh?” The bully stumbled, thrown off-balance as his fist flew through empty air.

“Seven Forms of Autumn, Second Form: Threshing Grain.” Crouched below the bully’s fist, Chen Wuya darted forward, blade held low.

The bully stepped forward, then crumpled. Confused, he looked down at his ankles. Blood spurted from the place where his feet had been. He screamed like a stuck pig, eyes wide.

“Couldn’t even dodge the second form?” Chen Wuya sneered. He shook his head, disappointed.

“Brother, what happened?” The other two bullies rushed out of the shed. At the sight of their fallen brother, one drew a knife, and the other drew an iron club.

Chen Wuya stood, swiping the blood off his sword. His legs burned, hips and knees aching. A scowl flickered across his face. I need practice.

He nodded at the other two, pointing the sword at them.

They charged. The knife-wielder swooped to the left, while the one with the club ran headlong at him. Roaring, he heaved the club high and struck at Chen Wuya’s head.

“First Form: Pass Amidst Leaves.”

Chen Wuya stepped toward the brute. His feet glided over the earth, barely disturbing the grass. The club breezed by his cheek. It smashed into the ground and stuck there, head buried in the earth. Bent in half, the brute heaved, teeth gritted, veins standing out on his forehead.

Standing inside his reach, Chen Wuya smiled.

A flash of steel. The brute’s head flew through the dawn light and rolled across the floor. Blankly, it gazed up at the footless bully, who screamed louder.

Chen Wuya chuckled lightly. The dark aura grew stronger. A faint red light glowed in the depths of his pupils.

Soft footsteps. The keen of steel. His eyes narrowed and he twisted to the side. The knife cut through his ragged robes, scraping his skin. Without turning, Chen Wuya slashed behind him. The third bully screamed and crumpled, grasping his intestines.

The three bullies laid on the ground, moaning and screaming. Chen Wuya stood over them, a vile grin on his face, eyes burning with a vicious light. “At last. At last. At long last, after so many years, I once again—”

No! Not this time. He took a deep breath and circulated it, expelling the dark aura with the breath. The grin faded, and the strange light left his eyes. Exhaustion took its place, mixed with embarrassment.

He glanced down at the bullies and sighed. A million images from a thousand lives poured through his head, all filled with one constant: a white figure, always there at his side, nudging him in the right direction whether he liked it or not. He scanned the skies, apprehensive. “Ah, I’ve really done it. I went wild again. As soon as he senses my demonic aura, that damn Kai Bailong will be on my tail.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

And there’s no one who knows my aura better than that nanny-like pest, Kai Bailong!

Wen Mengli stumbled out of the shed. At the bloody sight before him, he staggered to a halt and stared. “Lie Zhang, you… how?”

The footless bully crawled to Wen Mengli and grabbed his robes. Eyes wide, he stared helplessly up at Wen Mengli. “A demon… he’s a demon!”

Biting his lip, Chen Wuya looked around. I can’t waste time here. That bastard will catch up to me. I want to live my life the way I want, not have some asshole staring over my shoulder the whole time, for once! So many years have passed, and I’ve finally been reborn as human. I refuse to get nagged through this life, too!

Chen Wuya bowed abruptly, cupping his hands. “Master, I have repaid the life-debt. Lie Zhang dies here, forever your student. From this moment forth, Chen Wuya walks the earth.”

“Lie Zhang…?” he repeated, eyes wide.

Clicking his tongue, Chen Wuya sighed. I’m not getting through. He knelt and collected the belt pouches from the bullies. The footless one flinched away from him. Glancing at him, Chen Wuya let out a cold snort.

The bully recoiled, face pale.

Counting the coins, he tossed a pouch at his once-master. “And your ten liang, returned. Wen Mengli… if this child may speak as your student one last time… when you saved me from the river that day, you told me you had once been a noble, but you were expelled from your family. You weren’t much of a poet or scholar and so, you could only count on your sword to survive.”

Wen Mengli fumbled with the pouch and finally caught it, stepping on the footless man’s arm to do so. The footless man whimpered. “Ah… yes?”

Dropping to a full kowtow, Chen Wuya took a deep breath and shouted, “Please go back to your family! You cannot survive with your sword skills! Apologize to your father. I’m sure he’s forgotten all about what you said by now!”

“Eh—eh?” Wen Mengli backed away, startled.

That done, Chen Wuya stood and brushed off his knees. He glanced at the footless bandit. “Shall I finish him off for you?”

“Lie Zhang, you—you’re just a child!” Wen Mengli protested.

“So you’ll do it, then. I left my sword in the shed.” He nodded at Wen Mengli and turned away.

“Lie Zhang! Lie Zhang!” Wen Mengli shouted after him. He ignored him. Back straight and head high, he marched around the corner.

As soon as he turned the corner, Chen Wuya burst into a full sprint. He glanced over his shoulder, but no white creatures leaped out of the bushes to follow him. Breathing hard, he forced himself to speed up. Not today, Kai Bailong! Not today!

A blush spread over his cheeks as the domineering words he’d spoke came back to him. So embarrassing. I’m not a deity anymore! I sound like a delusional kid playing pretend.

As he ran, a little brook came up alongside the path. Wuya paused, then jumped down to the bank of the brook. In a still pool, he caught sight of himself. Face and robe stained with blood, a fierce-eyed, vicious peasant child stared back at him. Sunken cheeks and dark eyes made him look like a savage ghost. Dull black hair hung raggedly to his shoulders, ends jagged as a raven’s wing. He twisted his lips.

The first thing I need to do is clean up. He untied his robe and waded into the river in his trousers, chest bare.

As he washed in the river, he focused inwardly, trying to calm his thoughts. His mind swirled. Not fully locked away, memories resurfaced constantly, churning just under his conscious thoughts. A silver fish darted past, and he shivered slightly, the feel of water against his own scales sliding past. A frog plopped into the brook, and the taste of frog blood burst into his mind, the sensation of dipping his sharp beak down to snatch one up, the slipperiness as it slid down his throat, tipping his crane-head up to swallow.

“Bleugh,” Wuya muttered, sticking his tongue out. He grabbed his robe and plunged it into the water. Scrubbing out the blood, he splashed the memories away. They resisted. Rushing water roared past him in his mind’s eye, and his tiny body smashed into a rock and sunk down. A strand of blood floated on the water’s surface, like the time he dipped a paw in the stream and watched it run away, mixing with black. A whimper welled up from his chest, and he turned his head to see—

“Stop!” Wuya slapped his cheeks, forcing himself back to the present. His breath came short. Tears ran down his cheeks. He snuffled, then rubbed his nose and eyes dry, indignant. They’re just memories. Past lives. They’re nothing to me. He grabbed the robe again and scrubbed harder.

In his hands, the robe tore. Wuya lifted it to find a fresh hole scrubbed into the robe. He sighed, then inspected the rest of it. The worst of the bloodstains finally faded enough to blend in with the rest of the stains on the robe. Wuya hung it over a branch and sat on the bank of the brook, thinking to himself. At last, he sighed and stretched, reaching to feel if his robes had dried. His hand came back damp, so he dragged them down and slung them on.

As he drew it on, years flashed before his eyes. Centuries. A thousand lifetimes, flickering past. His youthful face turned somber, eyelids lowering.

In these thousand reincarnations, I’ve seen what I wrought. I never meant to cause so much harm to mortals. I merely… didn’t think about the side effects of my vengeance.

His eyes flashed with determination. I haven’t given up. I will never give up. This time, I’ll wreak my vengeance without injuring too many mortals in the process. Then even Kai Bailong shouldn’t have a problem with it.

“I don’t need to be babysat, damn nanny-god. Stop sticking your nose in my business,” he grumbled aloud, nose wrinkling.

A thought came to him, and a devious light glimmered in his eyes. “If he can find me. After a thousand reincarnations, my demonic aura is pretty much gone. As long as I don’t use demonic arts, I shouldn’t emit anything.”

“As for the Seven Forms of Autumn, they weren’t originally a demonic art. As long as I don’t get swept up in the moment, I should be fine!” Clenching his fist triumphantly, Wuya grinned at the sky.

You might have thought you taught me a lesson, chasing after me in all those lifetimes, but you taught me nothing. I haven’t given up on my vengeance.

A passing merchant squinted back down at him. “You okay, kid? Sitting there muttering to yourself…”

Wuya scowled. “I’m fine!”