Prologue: Su Xingchi's Not-So-Funny Transmigration Story

The morning sunlight filtered through the orange curtains, finally resting upon Su Xingchi’s pale face. He let out a slight yawn, typed the last few lines of code, and clicked save.

“Do you want to understand the meaning of life? Do you truly want to... live?”

Unexpectedly, such a prompt suddenly popped up on his desktop. As a seasoned programmer and homebody, Su Xingchi chuckled dryly, reached out, clicked NO, and then moved his finger toward the shutdown button.

“Not yet, brother,” Su Xingchi muttered to himself, pushing back his chair and preparing to go back to sleep.

Yet, that would be Su Xingchi’s final action.

...

When Su Xingchi awoke, he found himself lying in a bed beneath an unfamiliar yet grand ceiling of pale gold, high and imposing.

It felt as though only a moment had passed—he vividly recalled just pushing back his chair, yet now he was lying in bed. He sighed, and his own breath sounded faint and delicate.

He was stunned for a moment and tried to kick off the heavy quilt covering him, only to find it impossibly heavy, his limbs unable to budge it.

A surge of terror welled up within him. He raised his hand to his face, moving it back and forth, then bitterly smiled as he checked between his legs—only then did he breathe a slight sigh of relief.

“Damn it—I clearly clicked NO, right?”

But the words that escaped were nothing but an unintelligible murmur.

Former programmer Su Xingchi—now an unknown infant named Su Xingchi—truly understood in that instant that his life had irrevocably changed.

In the late summer of the 14th year of the Tianyou era, the seventh prince of the Stern Empire suddenly ceased crying. Within ten days, he could walk; after another ten, he could speak. The Tianyou Emperor, amazed, bestowed upon him the name Che, meaning “clear and transparent.”

Now named Xi Che, Su Xingchi began to methodically learn the written language, history, and culture of this new world. Born into the imperial family, fortunate to be a child, he need not worry about the struggles of precocity or ignorance, for in this world there were countless geniuses far beyond him. Like him, infants knew nothing of this world and required its people to patiently teach them step by step.

The Tianyou Emperor had many children, and Xi Che was unremarkable among them. Walking and speaking at one year old was not extraordinary; what was extraordinary was his rapid progress within just twenty days—an awakening, a gift of heaven. Even more remarkable was that from then on, Xi Che never cried again, earning the deep favor of the Tianyou Emperor.

Yet childhood was always long and dull, so Xi Che often begged his personal eunuch to read classics to him. The eunuch found this odd and reported it to His Majesty. The Tianyou Emperor then assigned a tutor to read to Xi Che regularly.

It was at this time that the infant named Xi Che met Xing Xi, the most unusual princess of the Stern Imperial Palace.

Not only was she one of the only two royal family members to listen to readings alongside him, nor merely the most beloved great-granddaughter of the old ancestor; nor was it because, since she learned to walk, she could roam freely through the entire Stern Palace as if no one was there.

It was simply because of her appearance.

Every member of the Xi Che’s clan that he saw—the ancient ancestors already centuries old with faded hair, his own father with endless majesty and coldness, and even his elder siblings glimpsed now and then—all without exception bore the same striking traits:

Golden hair and golden eyes, known as the Xi Guang tribe.

But this princess had striking silver hair, far more radiant than the usual clan members’ complexion, though her eyes shared the same pure golden hue as Xi Che’s.

How could Xi Che not realize she was a half-blood?

Or, more bluntly, a mongrel.

After a year in the clan, he understood how ancient and proud their people were. A silver-haired infant born into the Xi Guang tribe was like a queen in a past life bearing a child with black skin in England.

Yet strangely, this girl was not only unharmed but held a high status.

More importantly, she taught Xi Che the true meaning of genius.

She was the first to actively request others to read to her, and Xi Che merely took advantage of her enthusiasm.

What frustrated Xi Che most was that this exquisitely featured girl was still half a year younger than him.

Having lived two lives, Xi Che felt ashamed before her.

Yet, contrary to expectations, this girl with unusual bloodline and exceptional talent was not noble or aloof but surprisingly endearing and innocent.

She would sit upright and sneak naps in front of the stern tutor, yet still clearly remember the poems recited. When the maidservants brought snacks and fruit during breaks, she would even flatter Xi Che over a single grape, showing no arrogance despite her overwhelming talent.

Thus, Xi Che, leveraging his half-year seniority, earned the title of “older brother” and used his authority to coax from her the secret to learning by listening in half-sleep.

The secret was simple—yet it cut into Xi Che’s bones.

Nothing else but to be half-asleep, half-awake.

His knowledge from two lifetimes told him that this little girl was likely a monster capable of independently operating both halves of her brain, yet on the surface, he still forced a smile and said, “I see.”

Xing Xi was the first to shatter Xi Che’s pride as a world-traveling genius, yet this theoretical prodigy became his younger sister.

Through inquiries with his eunuch, Xi Che learned that this “cheap sister” was truly his sibling, for her mother was his biological aunt—his father’s sister. As for her father’s identity, the eunuch remained tight-lipped.

After a year and a half of listening to readings, at the age of three, Xi Che was finally ordered by his father to begin martial training.

For the Xi Guang tribe, martial arts was a broad term for cultivation, for their methods were unique in the world.

In this process, Xing Xi utterly crushed Xi Che’s confidence.

At three and a half years old, the ancient ancestor—nearly as old as the empire itself—passed away. At the funeral, Xi Che saw the world almost entirely bathed in gold. He never imagined there were so many clan members. Countless of them knelt before the old woman’s coffin, his noble father standing at the forefront, yet alongside him were several others.

What this meant, a mere three-and-a-half-year-old Xi Che did not know, but the twenty-three-year-old Su Xingchi shuddered.

When the old woman, who was not the emperor but coldly watched every descendant on the throne, finally passed, Xi Che began to sense the changes around him.

The most direct change was that Xing Xi could no longer roam through the palace to visit him as she used to. Without the old ancestor’s favor, her silver hair became the brightest and most jarring color in the golden Stern Palace.

The second change was that the standards for martial instructors grew increasingly harsh. Whereas before nine out of ten were qualified, now only one in ten passed, and beside the tall instructors stood mysterious hooded figures.

Xi Che had to exert all his effort just to make it into that one-tenth, sensing vaguely that this one-tenth might truly alter his fate.

Oddly, Xing Xi never appeared at the training grounds, despite always being the unquestioned top before.

Xi Che could not tell whether she had already been selected or deliberately excluded. That talented yet innocent girl likely did not understand the true meaning of the ancestor standing behind her, but Xi Che did—this palace was no longer her home.

After some effort, Xi Che once again saw the girl beside the tutor. Surprisingly, her expression and complexion were normal, as were the snacks she enjoyed during breaks. Worried, Xi Che mentioned the recent strange changes at the training grounds, hoping to catch her attention.

In his heart, he wanted his extraordinarily gifted sister to astonish everyone once more, but some vague unease held him back from encouraging her.

Instead, Xing Xi looked tired and said simply, “Grandma won’t let me go out,” then widened her eyes and asked, “You’re inside?”

Xi Che disliked her firm doubt. Though both were among the youngest and his talent was far less extraordinary than hers, having lived two lives and possessing this body’s natural gifts, he was on par with others half a year older, and though it required great effort, it was far from impossible.

Xing Xi shrank back under his glare, then smiled sweetly, unfastened a set of jade pendants from her wrist, and offered them to Xi Che.

He took them and saw a pair of verdant jade pieces, connected like yin and yang fish. Though he did not fully understand jade, he knew that jade seen here was never ordinary. Just as he was about to return them, Xing Xi snatched one from his palm and showed it to him—he realized she was gifting him one.

Delighted that Xi Che accepted, she suddenly hugged him and bit his forehead hard, then stepped back, waved her hand, and walked toward her quarters.

Even with two lifetimes, Xi Che’s face flushed from this sudden kiss. He wiped the drool from his forehead and smiled, gazing at the jade in his hand.

He never imagined this would be the last time he saw that girl in this palace.

Not long after, at a grand assembly, the Tianyou Emperor publicly announced a cooperation with the Xing Che tribe. The core of this collaboration was joint training of elite youths. Among the House of Aus, the twelve most gifted would represent the empire and travel to the ancestral land of Xing Che for combined training.

At that assembly, Xi Che listened carefully as his father read out names—and when the final name was read, his own name, the “clear and transparent” Che, was missing.

At that gathering, the mysterious hooded figures finally removed their cloaks—each was silver-haired with golden eyes.

The leader held a small hand in his palm.

The silver-haired, golden-eyed Xing Xi stood beside him, expression indifferent, gaze straightforward. Xi Che watched her profile but she never once looked back.

“Meeting” means to see each other mutually.

From that day forth, Xi Che and Xing Xi never saw one another again.

Time passed. For ordinary boys, no one would remember a gifted companion from when they were three or four. But Xi Che was no ordinary boy.

He treasured the jade pendant Xing Xi had given him before their parting. Though he did not know what role she had played in that strange selection or why his name was struck from the list, he believed that with her talent and disposition, returning to her true people, she would be the strongest and most fearsome among those so-called geniuses.

He was merely waiting for the day he would reunite with that girl, and on that day, proudly tell her that he had always followed behind her, never straying.

From that day on, Xi Che’s cultivation soared rapidly. A once-in-ten-years genius, then once-in-a-century, eventually he was hailed as a prodigy comparable to the First Great Emperor, one in five hundred years.

At that time, he finally gained access to long-sealed archives.

There, he found records from eleven years prior about that selection.

Only then did he learn the name of the plan—

The Weapon Project.

Subsequent records showed that among more than twenty elites, including the twelve from the Xi Guang tribe, the number rapidly dwindled each year. Eleven years later, only seven survived.

Xing Xi was among them, ranking first.

Then, he found the original selection records. Reading them felt like being struck by thunder.

He went straight to his father—the man who had initiated the project.

That stern, cold man still sat high upon the throne of thorns, calmly watching as his son passed several trials, and asked quietly, “You know now?”

Xi Che nodded and sneered, “You are truly an emperor.”

“At that time, you had not yet shown the talent you have now. Twelve sons like you could not compare to half of one Xing Xi’s talent. If I could ascend this throne, I would not abandon several children.”

Xi Che smiled bitterly, “Such is the imperial family—astonishing.”

“But even then, how did such a little girl convince you to replace a son with twelve daughters inferior to her?”

The Tianyou Emperor smiled—a smile like a lion’s roar—and said, “She made me believe that if she went there, she would be a hundred times stronger than you, my unworthy son.”

Xi Che bowed deeply three times to his father, then rose and said, “Thank you for your teaching, Your Majesty.”

The Tianyou Emperor accepted the bows calmly, then chuckled softly, “Are you leaving?”

Xi Che did not answer, instead laughing loudly as he left.

In the 28th year of Tianyou, Xi Che journeyed abroad and did not return for a long time.

At the end of the 28th year, the Tianyou Emperor passed away. His brother ascended the throne with the reign title Qingli and slaughtered all the Tianyou Emperor’s sons.

The sealed archives recorded the events:

“The emperor pitied Xing Xi’s talent, forbidding her from leaving the palace. After several days, she broke the ban, entered the training grounds, and defeated all present. The Xing Che were amazed and said: ‘I know what you seek—are you willing to let me take your place?’”

“Are you willing to let me take your place?”

Only then did Xi Che realize that the innocent, lazy girl had known the truth of the selection from the start and had watched everything coldly.

Having lived two lives, Xi Che was still less clear-headed than the three-year-old girl.

Then, she died in that trial, a human sacrifice to forge weapons.

The world saw no more of Xing Xi—only a weapon remained.

In the second year of Qingli, the Weapon Project was declared ended. The silver-haired, golden-eyed girl calmly emerged from an ice-sealed stone chamber, snowflakes swirling behind her, deep enough to reach her ankles.

Of the twenty-seven participants in the Weapon Project, only one remained.