Volume One: Turbulence in a Small Town Chapter Five: Murong Qingxue

"Xiaohong, you go out first. Without my permission, no one is allowed to come in," Zhang Heng hurriedly instructed.

"Yes, young master." Seeing the serious look on his face, Xiaohong immediately left, closing the door behind her.

Two lifetimes, and the exact same pendant.

That's right. Zhang Heng had owned a pendant just like this in his past life. According to Old Zhang, the pendant had been with Zhang Heng when he was found—it was likely left by his parents. As a result, Zhang Heng had worn it all his life, right up until the moment he was struck by lightning.

Why would his parents in both lives leave him the same pendant?

Were there two identical pendants, or was it actually the very same one?

Could it be that his parents in both lives were the same people? Were they transmigrators as well?

No, that couldn’t be. He’d grown up in the modern world since childhood—there was no mistake about that. If he really were the same person across two lives, the timeline just wouldn’t add up.

Forget it. If he couldn’t figure it out, he might as well stop thinking about it.

Right now, what mattered most was studying the pendant.

Judging by the plot of so many novels, this thing was definitely a peerless treasure.

Perhaps, inside it, there was an ancient, wise old man who would help him unlock his meridians, guide his cultivation, take him to find all kinds of opportunities, and then he’d level up madly, beat up the chosen sons of heaven, marry a saintess, and reach the pinnacle of life.

Or maybe, it contained treasures or secret techniques left by an unrivaled powerhouse—after cultivating, his physique and perception would be transformed. Then his combat strength would defy the heavens, he’d trample the chosen sons, marry a saintess, and stand at the summit of the world.

Or perhaps, the pendant itself was a supreme forbidden artifact, capable of absorbing others’ cultivation or the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, enabling him to upgrade at lightning speed, beat up the chosen sons, marry a saintess, and ascend to greatness.

Ha!

He was truly about to strike it rich. Calming his excitement, Zhang Heng set about examining the pendant before him.

Yet, half an hour later, he was dumbfounded. Aside from being unusually hard, the damn pendant had no other special qualities.

Whether he tried burning it, soaking it in water, or smashing it with a hammer, the pendant remained utterly unresponsive.

No matter the method, he couldn’t so much as scratch it.

Maybe he wasn’t using the correct method to activate it—perhaps it required a spell? Zhang Heng pondered for a moment.

After a while, he cupped the pendant in his left hand, held it to his chest, extended his right hand with the index and middle fingers together, pointing at the pendant, and chanted:

"Mammy Mammy Hushabye—"

No reaction? The spell must be wrong. Try another one.

"Open Sesame."

"Prajnaparamita."

"By the order of the Supreme Lord Laozi."

"When the Heavenly Dao ends, the three and five are formed, and sun and moon unite."

"Bright and glorious, the sun rises in the east, severing evil dreams and dispelling ill omens."

"I love you."

...

Why is nothing working? Are you kidding me? Zhang Heng recited all sorts of incantations like a fool, but the pendant still didn’t react in the slightest.

If none of these methods worked, only one remained. Zhang Heng muttered to himself.

Recognition by blood.

That’s right. He recalled from novels that supreme treasures of heaven and earth would develop a spirit within, and the more precious they were, the harder their materials—impervious to external harm—yet, upon absorbing a person’s blood, they’d recognize their master and serve him.

Judging by its hardness, this pendant did seem like a treasure.

However, before long, Zhang Heng was dumbstruck again. His blood stained the originally dark green pendant a vivid red, but the damn thing still showed no reaction.

Damn it, Zhang Heng couldn’t help but curse aloud. It really was just a useless piece of junk.

One of these days, I’ll sell you off.

Just as Zhang Heng was sinking into frustration, Xiaohong’s urgent voice called from outside: "Young master, young master! Miss Murong Qingxue is here. You’d better get ready!"

Murong Qingxue? Isn’t that—wait, isn’t that my fiancée? She’s come to see me. Could it be...

A genius in both beauty and talent, paired with an utterly useless good-for-nothing, and they’re engaged. Isn’t this the classic setup for a “break-off-the-engagement” novel?

Zhang Heng finally understood.

"Well, at least I’m a transmigrator—there’s no way my life could be so dull. Turns out the plot just hadn’t begun yet."

After the engagement is broken, I’ll be filled with rage and grief, then, spurred by the intense shock, I’ll awaken my hidden talent and finally begin cultivating.

Come on then, let’s get this breakup over with.

Zhang Heng rested his chin on his hand, grinning roguishly.

His body was already weak, and he’d lost quite a bit of blood earlier, making him appear frail. With that expression, anyone who didn’t know better might think he was up to some mischief.

Just then, the doors were kicked open, and a cold, stunningly beautiful woman appeared in the doorway.

With icy indifference, she spoke:

"You’re Zhang Heng, my useless fiancé? As expected—so feeble you can’t even stand. What right do you have to marry me? I’m here today to break off our engagement."

Zhang Heng pretended to look furious, but inside he was roaring with laughter.

Yes, just like that. For once, things were going according to the script. The days of defeating the chosen sons, marrying the saintess, and standing atop the world were not far off.

He raised his head to look at the woman before him, extending a finger to point at her.

(This pose isn’t bad. So this is what it feels like to be dumped—rather exhilarating.)

The lines he’d rehearsed in his mind for so long erupted from his lips:

"For thirty years, the river flows east; for thirty years, it flows west. Never look down on a young man for being poor. Murong Qingxue, you may have every reason to be proud, but are you so sure I’ll always be ordinary? One day, I’ll trample your arrogance beneath my feet." Ahahahahaha!

Ahahahaha!

"Young master, young master, why are you laughing like an idiot? Miss Qingxue is here to see you, hurry and prepare." Xiaohong pushed open the door and walked in, her urging voice snapping Zhang Heng back to reality.

After composing himself, Zhang Heng said to Xiaohong, "Murong Qingxue, is it? Let her in."

"Yes, young master." With that, Xiaohong turned to welcome Murong Qingxue.

Zhang Heng straightened his hair and clothes, his back to the door. He planned to seize the initiative—after all, he had lived two lifetimes, surely he could handle a mere girl.

When he heard someone enter, Zhang Heng slowly turned around.

But upon seeing his visitor, all the words he’d prepared dissolved into a single phrase:

"As expected, your reputation is well deserved."

Not far away, clad in a white dress, Murong Qingxue stood quietly.

Delicate, sculpted features, a flawless figure, skin as smooth as porcelain—truly, “Of all the beauties in the world, none compare to her. A face that could topple kingdoms, so stunning she seems otherworldly.” Most important of all was her aura. In every glance and gesture, there was an air of refined elegance that made others feel inferior, unworthy to profane her.

Though he’d heard from Xiaohong that Murong Qingxue was the greatest beauty in Liunan City—not only lovely in appearance but also gifted in cultivation—only upon seeing her in person did he realize that even if she were called the number one beauty in the entire state of Liu, or even among the seven ancient nations, Zhang Heng would believe it.

Alas! To be jilted by such a beauty was satisfaction enough.

(Have you no shame at all?)