Chapter Four: The "Death" of Wei Xiaoping

Wei Xiaoping operated the Nine Heavens Divine Shield while simultaneously using psychic perception to catch Yang Shengtian’s thoughts.

In the process, he realized Yang Shengtian had detected the weaknesses of the Nine Heavens Divine Shield and was intent on killing him. He also discovered that within Yang Shengtian’s body, there was a voice that often instructed him how to speak, guided his will, and seemed to control him entirely—whatever this voice commanded, Yang Shengtian would obey. The knowledge of the shield’s flaws had been imparted to Yang Shengtian by this mysterious voice.

Wei Xiaoping thought, so his younger brother, Wei Xiaofan (now Yang Shengtian), had his will seized by someone using some demonic mind-control. No wonder, since their reunion, his brother’s personality and thoughts had changed so much—even failing to recognize his own elder brother! He had forgotten his parents, his own name, and was nothing like the person he had been before vanishing years ago. He called himself Yang Shengtian, likely because the controller had taught him to do so.

All these years of separation, what had his brother endured? Whose hands had he fallen into? Who in this world possessed such magic to command another’s will? How many could wield such power? Was his brother’s disappearance caused by these people, and had he been brainwashed by them? And what method was used to control his brother’s will? What torment had his brother suffered to become like this?

“What should I do?” Wei Xiaoping’s thoughts raced. “Now that my brother knows the weaknesses of my Nine Heavens Divine Shield, if he attacks through its flaw, and intends to kill me, I will either die or be gravely wounded!”

“And I promised him, within three moves, he could attack as he pleased and I would not retaliate. If I now break my word to protect myself, or fight back, I would not only lose my honor but invite ridicule!”

“From what I’ve sensed through psychic perception, my brother’s mind is clouded—controlled by someone determined to have me killed. So he must obey and attempt my murder.”

“But why doesn’t the controller come himself, instead manipulating my brother to do it? What is the purpose?”

Not far from Wei Xiaoping and Yang Shengtian, Da Huang and Xiao Hei, each loyal to their master, growled and fought fiercely.

Da Huang, while battling Xiao Hei and spewing flames, kept glancing back at Wei Xiaoping. Then, seeing Yang Shengtian aiming his golden halberd at Wei Xiaoping’s exposed back, preparing to strike the Nine Heavens Divine Shield, Da Huang roared, unleashed a torrent of fire at Xiao Hei, forcing him back, and charged toward the space between the two brothers.

But before Da Huang could arrive, Yang Shengtian had already thrust his halberd at Wei Xiaoping’s shield. Just as the voice in Yang Shengtian’s mind had said, the way to break the Nine Heavens Divine Shield was with a sharp divine weapon. The tip of the halberd barely touched the shield, and instantly, the shield shattered like tempered glass, its destruction radiating through every part.

A thunderous boom echoed. Lightning-like mystical light flashed around Wei Xiaoping, dazzling both beasts and Yang Shengtian, forcing them to squint. A wave of force swept outward, driving them back several steps.

Wei Xiaoping, whose shield was destroyed by Yang Shengtian, stood in the air, dazed and vacant. The unleashed power of the shield’s destruction affected him somewhat. When he first learned the Nine Heavens Divine Shield, his master had told him its weaknesses and the method to break it, but he had never imagined what would happen when it was actually broken.

Now, witnessing it, he hadn’t expected the destruction to unleash such immense power.

Without the shield’s protection, Wei Xiaoping thought quickly, seeking a way to accept Yang Shengtian’s final attack without injury, so his brother could keep his promise and recognize him. Suddenly, he felt a blow to his back.

He saw a sharp weapon pierce through his chest, followed by bone-deep pain that froze his body. Though he had anticipated Yang Shengtian’s attack, he was still shocked and incredulous at his brother's actions.

He turned, pain and astonishment in his gaze fixed on Yang Shengtian.

Yang Shengtian, after piercing Wei Xiaoping’s chest, felt a moment of satisfaction seeing Wei Xiaoping’s agony, but the feeling swiftly faded, replaced by confusion he couldn’t explain.

Da Huang, seeing his master wounded, rushed over, howling mournfully—a sound that pierced the heart, filled with grief. Da Huang alternated his gaze between Wei Xiaoping and Yang Shengtian, as if pleading with Yang Shengtian on Wei Xiaoping’s behalf.

Wei Xiaoping, clutching his chest in pain, looked weakly at Da Huang, hinting something with his eyes and shaking his head with difficulty. Da Huang, seeing this, howled louder, his cry full of sorrow and helplessness.

Before long, Wei Xiaoping, gravely injured, his strength and divine power ebbing, could not hold himself aloft and began to fall from the sky.

Da Huang, seeing this, spread his broad wings and flew downward faster than Wei Xiaoping was falling, cushioning him gently on his back and carrying him toward the distant Azure Peak Mountain.

Lying on Da Huang’s back, Wei Xiaoping, bleeding heavily and severely wounded, soon lapsed into unconsciousness.

In his coma, he entered a shadowy, gray world.

Within this world were towering ancient trees, lofty mountains, trickling streams, surging rivers, and crowds of people drifting through the air or floating along the ground, their white robes dragging, no footsteps visible, all drifting as he was.

In short, this shadowy world contained all things from the mortal realm—but there was no sun.

Without a sun, there was no sunlight; thus, everything in this world was dim, lifeless, as if painted in black and white. The scenery and all living beings appeared devoid of vitality.

It was eerie, instilling fear and unease.

Wei Xiaoping found his body drifting as light as a feather in this world.

He was astonished by his own weightlessness.

“How can this be?” He stared at his body—suspended in the air, clad in a spotless white robe, the wound from Yang Shengtian’s halberd healed, no blood on chest or back, hair loose over his shoulders, limbs hanging stiffly, expressionless, drifting.

“How is it that my body, so large, has lost all gravity? How can it, without any force, float so lightly, like a feather?”

“What world is this? Why do I have no recollection of it? Why is it devoid of color, filled with deathly stillness? The plants seem about to wither, only swaying when the wind blows, proving they live. Why do the animals and people look sickly and listless?”

Wei Xiaoping’s body drifted aimlessly.

After less than fifteen minutes, he came upon a grand cluster of ancient buildings.

There were two or three dozen small houses, all enclosed by a wall three or four stories high, with a main gate about four stories tall and two stories wide, carved with beast motifs on either side.

Flanking the gate were two massive, three-headed monster dogs, each weighing over three hundred pounds.

The gate stood open, with crowds shuffling in and out hurriedly, as if pressed for time.

Wei Xiaoping looked up at the gate and saw, written across it, the words: “Registry for Transmigration of All Beings.”

He didn’t understand the meaning, so he drifted forward and stopped a person exiting, asking what this place was and what those words meant.

The person replied, “This is where one can consult the records of all beings—their past and future lives. It's managed by the Underworld.”

Wei Xiaoping asked, “All beings? Everything in existence?”

The person said, “Plants, animals, insects, humans—anything alive. Their past and present experiences are all recorded here. That's why it's called the Registry for Transmigration.”

Wei Xiaoping asked, “What does transmigration mean? What’s the purpose of consulting these records?”

The person answered, “Transmigration means your life ends at a certain time, space, or place, for any reason, and then you move onto another time, space, or place for a new life.”

“As for the purpose, I’m not sure. People say this registry is under the jurisdiction of King Yan. He records all beings’ deeds—good and evil—to calculate the proportion of virtue and vice, to determine whether one is good or bad, and decide where to send them in their next transmigration or reincarnation.”

“If someone, or another being, has committed too much evil, King Yan might severely punish them, forbidding rebirth or transmigration forever.”

Wei Xiaoping pondered, beginning to understand, but still unclear on some points. He was about to ask more, but the person had already drifted away and he had to give up.

He continued thinking: if everyone who comes here to consult their past and present lives is already dead, and he himself had drifted here unconsciously, did that mean his life had ended?

Was he, then, a dead man?

Since only the dead can consult their past and present lives here, and he was unsure whether he was dead, why not go in and see if he could check his own records? That would prove whether his life was over.

With that thought, Wei Xiaoping drifted inside...