1: Defy The Heavens, Boy!

A tired sigh echoed through a dimly lit room.

A small table lamp that seemed to be malfunctioning flickered a couple of times, threatening to go out at any moment.

A young-looking boy stared at the flickering light for what seemed like years, his lifeless eyes failing to gain even a glimmer of brightness despite staring fixedly at the lamp.

How did this happen?

That question kept pounding in his mind.

He looked at his hands, thin, almost bony, filled with calluses and small scars.

For a brief second, a pair of different hands seemed to superimpose over them, larger and more robust though not too much, with slightly longer fingers and well-kept nails.

That illusion disappeared in the next instant.

He shook his head; it wasn't the time to get lost in his own illusions; he had bigger problems to deal with.

"Where the hell am I?"

This question didn't come without reason; just a few minutes ago, he had been on the train going from home to work. While sitting with nothing better to do, he started reading a web novel he had found by chance a few weeks ago, which had hooked him for a while.

As he looked at the latest chapter the author had uploaded, he couldn't help but curse under his breath.

"What a shitty novel." In reality, the novel wasn't bad; it presented some interesting ideas, though its plot was clichéd in some ways. It wasn't the eighth wonder of the world, but it wasn't complete garbage either.

You could simply say it was another average novel, one among many. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions; after all, it only had 145 episodes and was still ongoing.

So, it could improve a lot in the future... the problem was that he no longer felt like continuing to read.

The reason was quite simple, actually.

"Why would you do that to a character with so much potential?"

His anger and annoyance had to do with the protagonist's rival.

Or rather, the protagonist herself; this was a novel with a female main character after all. In fact, if you looked closely, you could see that most of the main cast were women.

Normally, this kind of setup would make many male readers run away with their tails between their legs, avoiding reading further. It couldn't be helped; readers needed a character they could identify with. If they couldn't do that, their interest would visibly wane, and they would abandon the work.

He had almost been one of them, but a while ago, he had started giving this type of novel a chance, and thanks to that, he had found one or two interesting ones. That's why he kept reading.

Then entered the protagonist's rival, Tian Lang. At first, he seemed like just another filler character. In a novel mostly featuring female characters, a character like him had no relevance and tended to disappear quickly.

But somehow, he stayed. Although he seemed unimportant at first, the author seemed to want to change that with each chapter.

The protagonist tended to have several rivals; Tian Lang just seemed like another one who would probably be forgotten after a few chapters. But somehow, he grew in strength and influence. He wasn't an extraordinary character or the strongest, but he was consistent. Unlike others, he never fell behind and kept moving forward.

Soon, all those who read the novel realized that Tian Lang had gone from being one of the rivals to being The Rival. It was surprising how it happened—slowly but surely, he earned a place in the story. Not only that, he began to gain importance within the supporting cast.

Those supporting characters who had taken the protagonist as their goal and rival also saw him in the same way when his worth was demonstrated in the story.

He was in every important event and seemed to contribute in each arc in one way or another. His rivalry with the protagonist was healthy, not malicious or overly dramatic; they were just two people seeing each other as equals and wanting to surpass each other.

The readers loved him because even if he seemed out of place at first, he adapted naturally and wonderfully to the environment and the story, not causing too much conflict with the premise of having several female main characters.

Even though he was a man, it didn't seem important since the story didn't present any romance, whether towards the boys or the girls.

He was a good character; he had personality, unique skills, an interesting background, and contributed in every arc of the story.

So why? Why did the author give him such a pathetic and rushed ending...

Why did he die without achieving any of his goals or dreams? Without having his entire story developed? Without all the mysteries about him being resolved?

And at the hands of whom? A fourth-rate villain who had only appeared in three episodes, the same villain who was killed off just half a chapter later...

Even though he had told himself that he couldn't complain since it was a free novel, he couldn't help but start writing a comment.

"What kind of absurd crap is this, author? Did your parents drop you on your head when you were a baby? Did your mother run out of milk and give you powdered milk instead? Did that damage your brain? Or were you just born stupid?" His comment went on and on, and maybe it's best to spare the rest of the 500 words of insults...

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

When he finished, he sent it and sighed. His frustration was still there but to a lesser extent.

"Wow! I haven't seen that many insults since I had a drink with a seaman!"

The voice snapped him out of his thoughts, making him turn to see an elderly man with dark skin and white hair. He was dressed in simple clothes and carried a cane that rested on his knees.

The old man was leaning slightly in his direction, and since he was sitting next to him, it was obvious he had read everything he wrote. He blushed a little, not expecting to be caught showing his worst side on the internet.

Seeing his embarrassment, the old man chuckled a bit.

"Don't worry, we all get frustrated when things don't go the way we want. It's natural, as natural as drinking water or breathing."

The old man stroked his white beard while contemplating what seemed to be distant memories.

He sighed and nodded in agreement with his words and couldn't help but vent a little.

"I just expected more. There was so much potential here, and it was just... just suddenly ruined."

He still couldn't believe it. Maybe the author would later pull something out of the hat, a plot twist or some way to bring Tian Lang back, but even if he did, it wouldn't change the fact that he had killed off the main rival in such a pathetic and absurd way.

The old man nodded as he listened, as if he understood how he felt.

"That's what happens when the wrong people take charge, kid. They waste the potential, juggle senselessly, losing direction and forgetting the clear path ahead of them."

The old man's comment made him nod quickly; that was exactly how he felt about this novel, as if someone had taken something that could have been good and just played with it until it twisted and broke, and once bored, simply threw it away and forgot about it.

He felt that would be the fate of the novel, that the author would just keep playing until he no longer knew what to do and then abandon it.

"Damn, I wish things were different. It's sad; I really liked it, but now I don't know if I can continue with it."

The old man looked at him sideways and spoke in a somewhat strange tone.

"That's pessimistic, and that doesn't do any good, kid. Do you know what happens to pessimistic people? They rot. They rot in their pessimism without achieving anything or changing anything. If you really like it, then just do something about it. Take the reins! Don't rot away waiting for someone else to do the work!"

He blinked and looked at the old man as if he were crazy. It was a good motivational speech, but what the hell was he supposed to do? Go to the author's house, punch him, steal his account, and rewrite the novel himself?

He laughed and shook his head.

"That's impossible, old man. I'm just an office worker. I don't even know how to write decently, and the author will probably block me once he reads the comment I left. It's not like he'll actually listen to me. It's just cruel fate."

The old man made a strange face when he heard the word "fate." He scoffed, clearly less cheerful than before, and said,

"Fate is stupid. Only fools are led by something like that. As men, we must go against fate!"

He looked at him and smiled, patting his back. With a broad grin, he asked,

"What do you say, kid? Do you want to go against fate?"

For some reason, his words struck a chord. They weren't eloquent, but somehow, something inside him stirred. It was silly, stupid, absurd, but fantasizing never hurt, right?

He smiled broadly.

"Of course, old man!" Even if they were just words he'd forget once he got to work, he couldn't help but want to say them once, even if it was ridiculous. But in this train car, it was just this crazy old man and him, so what did it matter if he let himself get carried away a little?

"Let's defy the heavens!" As the words left his mouth, he couldn't help but regret them a little. They sounded even more foolish out loud than in his head.

"HAHAHAHAHA!!!, Well said! Well said! Neither gods nor Buddha, the devil or demons, monsters or immortals, defy everything to achieve what you desire. That's the true path of a man!"

The old man laughed uncontrollably, and he couldn't help but feel a drop of sweat fall from his forehead. Maybe it wasn't too late to change seats?

He was already regretting this conversation.

The old man stopped laughing when the air seemed to escape his lungs completely. He coughed a bit and composed himself, with a serious and serene look, as if the previous spectacle had never happened. He looked him in the eyes, eyes as black as the void meeting dark brown ones, and the world seemed to stand still for a moment.

The old man smiled and pointed a finger at him.

"It's time to take the reins, kid. I hope you won't disappoint me."

With those words, everything suddenly went dark. He almost thought they had entered a tunnel, if not for the flash of crimson light that pierced his chest before he lost consciousness.

Then he woke up in a small room with a flickering lamp.

Just... what the hell?

A dream? A hallucination? Madness?

He had ruled out all of them. He had pinched himself a bit; the pain was too real. He had licked the floor; the taste was too real. He smelled his sweat; it was real. He heard his voice, different but real. He even took his pulse, feeling the beats of his heart.

Everything was real.

So, unable to do anything or change anything, he sat on an old, uncomfortable bed, watching the lamp flicker, contemplating the fact that a crazy old man he met on the train had taken him out of his body and put him in a different one. Because it was different; it was easy to notice: the lighter and somewhat sickly skin tone, the small differences in size, the scars, the height, the hair, the voice.

If he couldn't piece together all that evidence, he might as well throw away his diplomas and call himself an idiot.

Though he probably didn't have his diplomas anymore.

He sighed and stood up. Using the flickering light, he made his way to what seemed to be the switch for the main light and pressed it... nothing happened. The light didn't come on. He looked up at the ceiling, seeing that the bulb that should have illuminated the place was missing.

He let out an even longer sigh and dragged himself to what seemed to be a window and, without thinking too much, yanked the curtains open. He instantly regretted it.

"Damn, my eyes!" He fell to the floor, covering his eyes, which now burned from the sunlight.

It took a few moments before he could blink and see the blue sky with white clouds. Modern buildings in a somewhat deplorable state greeted him.

It was easy to identify a poor neighborhood when he saw one.

"Where the hell am I?"

With some doubts and now with a decent amount of light, he began to search the room.

It was indeed a small apartment, with a bathroom, a small kitchen, and a closet. There was an old and small desk, and what seemed to be a broken trash can.

He rummaged through the belongings and found a worn wallet, an old school backpack, and a school uniform that had seen better days.

Without much thought, he opened the wallet and pulled out a school ID. There didn't seem to be anything else, no bills or coins, just the ID and a bus pass he didn't recognize.

"High School Number 12? Senior student Tian Lang?"

He stared at the photo on the ID like a deer caught in headlights.

He read the name three times to verify it and a fourth time just to make sure.

"Well, Shit...!"

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Note:

Well, this is an attempt at an original story that I started some time ago. What do you think? The tags would be slice of life, Harem, Fantasy, Action, Adventure, and Mystery. As well as xianxia, but not your typical xianxia, rather xianxia set in the modern/futuristic era.

originally I was thinking of posting this only when I have at least 10 chapters on patreon but I thought, why wait so long? I'll probably just post it here for now and when I have those ten chapters I'll start posting it on other sites.

This is the first time I try to write something original, so, your suggestions, critiques and advice are all welcome.