Chapter 2: This Seat Lives

"My heart was already as dead as water, but I did not expect the cold night of the ninth month to reveal the light of spring.

The clear, crisp voice of the Yueh Girl is heard in my ears, and the pearly words tinkle like jade, but they make Mo Ran's brain ache and his forehead meridians throb.

"What's all this noise? Where's the wailing ghost from? Come on, beat this bitch off the mountain with a stick."

It was only after the bellowing that Mo Ran realised something was wrong.

I thought I was dead.

Hate and chill, pain and silent cold zapped his chest and Mo Ran's eyes snapped open.

He found himself lying on a bed, not the bed at the top of the world of death and life, but a bed with carved dragons and painted phoenixes, the wood smelling like heavy powder, and an old bedding embroidered in pink and purple with the motif of mandarin ducks playing in the water, the kind of pillow and quilt only a woman in a hooker would sleep on.

""

Mo Ran has a momentary stiffness.

He knew where it was.

This is a tile near the top of the Dead Life.

The term "wazi" refers to a green house, and means "to be together when you come, but to be disintegrated when you go", so that the guests and the powder can get along well.

When he was young, Mo Ran was a very lascivious man for a while, sleeping in this youthful house for more than ten days out of half a month. However, this youth house was sold out when he was in his twenties and was later converted into a wine shop. How could he have appeared in a long-defunct youth house after his death?

Could it be that he had done too much evil in his life and victimized countless young boys and girls, so he was punished by the King of Hell to be reincarnated in a kiln to receive clients?

Mo Ran rolled over unconsciously as he rambled on.

Hep was confronted by a sleeping face.

""

What's going on? Why is there a man lying next to him?

And a pink man

This man has a young face and delicate features, looking lovely in jade and snow and indistinguishable from male and female.

Mo Ran, her face expressionless but her insides rippling, stared at the sleepy little white face for half a day before suddenly remembering.

Isn't this the young man he loved so much when he was young?

Or it could be called Yung Kau.

It didn't matter whether it was three or nine, what mattered was that the young herdsman had been sick for years and should have been dead by now. Yet here he was, nestled alive on his side of the bed, his shoulders and neck exposed under the blanket, sleeping soundly.

Mo Ran tensed and lifted the covers, her gaze shifting further down.

""

This Rong does not know whether it is nine or three, let's just count him as Rong Jiuzi, Rong Jiuzi little beauty makeup half-ruined, wrist is also finely adorned with several beautiful gold thread red rope child.

Mo Ran rubbed his chin and sighed darkly: good fun.

Look at the exquisite taste, the skilful technique, the familiarity of the images.

This can't be fucking self-made, can it?

He was a cultivator of immortality and had a taste for rebirth. At this moment, he could not help but begin to suspect that he seemed to be living back.

To check his thoughts further, Mo Ran found a bronze mirror. The mirror was badly worn, but in its dim glow he could still see his own face faintly.

Mo Ran was thirty-two years old at the time of his death, but the face of the fellow in the mirror at the moment looked rather boyish, with a youthful flightiness unique to teenagers in his handsome brow, and he appeared to be no more than fifteen or sixteen years old.

There was no one else in this bedroom. And so, after a long silence, Fairy Tramper Mo Ran, tyrant of the Xianxia realm, bully of the Middle Shu Area, emperor of the human realm, lord of the top of death and life, expressed his innermost feelings honestly.

"I'll go."

With this sound, he woke up Rong Jiu who was in a haze of sleep.

The beauty sat up languidly, caged in long soft hair, raised a pair of still sleepy peach blossom eyes, the ends of which were tinged with a residual red, and yawned.

"Well Mr. Mo, you're awake early today."

Mo Ran didn't say a word, he did like the idea of a beautiful androgynous girl like Rongjiu more than ten years ago, but now, at the age of thirty-two, Fairy Tramper, he wondered if he had been a donkey in his head to find such a man attractive.

"Did you not sleep well last night and had a nightmare?"

This seat is dead, so you call it a nightmare.

When Rongjiu saw that he had not said anything, he also poured that he was in a bad mood, so he got up and got out of bed, went to the openwork wooden window and put his arm around Mo Ran from behind.

"Sir Mo, you should pay attention to me, why are you frozen and ignoring people?"

Mo Ran's face turned blue when he hugged him like that, and he wanted to tear the little goblin off his back and slap him across the face with seventeen or eighteen big slaps, but in the end he held back.

He was still a bit dizzy and didn't get it right.

After all, if you are really reborn, then yesterday you were still in love with Rong Jiu, and when you wake up, you beat someone up, this behavior is no different from suffering from mental chronic illness, it is not right, it is not right.

Mo Ran straightened up and asked, seemingly offhandedly, "What day of the month is it?"

Rongjiu was stunned and then laughed, "The fourth day of May."

"The Year of the Prophet"

"That was last year, this year is the year of Ding You, Mr Mo is really a noble man who forgets things, the more he passes, the more he goes back."

Year D10

Mo Ran's eyes were dark and her mind was racing.

In the year of Ding You, he was sixteen years old, just one year after being recognized as the long-lost nephew of the Exalted Lord of the Peak of Death and Life, and had thus leapt from a mangy goat to a phoenix on a branch.

So one is truly reborn

Or, a great dream of emptiness after death

Rongjiu laughed, "Sir Mo, I think you are so dizzy from hunger that you can't even remember the day. Sit down for a while, I'll go to the kitchen and bring you something to eat, how about some oil swirl cakes"

Mo Ran had only just been reborn at this time, and he still didn't know how to deal with all this, but it was always right to follow the same path as before. So he recalled how he had looked back in the day and, holding back his nausea, smiled and pinched Rong Jiu.

"That's good enough, add another bowl of porridge and come back and feed it to me."

Rongjiu put on his clothes and went off, returning shortly with a wooden tray on which was a bowl of pumpkin porridge, two oil swirled cakes and a plate of small dishes.

Mo Ran was just a little hungry and was about to grab a cake to eat when Rong Jiu suddenly pushed his hand away and charmingly said, "I'll feed you to enjoy it."

""

Rong Jiu picked up a piece of cake and sat down against Mo Ran. He was draped in a thin outer robe, his smile was ambiguous and he intentionally threw two winks at him, the seduction was unmistakable.

Mo Ran stared at Rongjiu's face for a moment.

Rongjiu thought he was getting horny again and snapped, "You're always looking at me like that and everything is getting cold."

Mo Ran was silent for a moment, remembering all the good things Rong Jiu had done behind his back in his last life, the corners of his mouth slowly rubbed together in a sweet, intimate smile.

Fairy Tramper has done as many disgusting things as he wants, and he can do anything he wants to do.

Mo Ran leaned comfortably back in his chair and smiled, "Sit over here."

"I'm just sitting here."

"You know what I mean by that."

Rongjiu's face flushed and she spat, "Such a rush, the Duke won't wait until he's finished eating"

Before he could finish his sentence, he was forcibly dragged closer by Mo Ran. Yung Jiu's hand shook and the bowl of porridge knocked over to the ground, and he exclaimed, "Sir Mo, this bowl"

"Never mind."

"Well, then, you eat something first too."

"I'm not ready to eat here" Mo Ran A pair of dark eyes shone with light, and the pupils reflected the delicate face of Rong Jiu tilting her neck.

In a previous life, one was particularly willing to kiss those sweet red lips on the occasion of a fling. After all, the teenager was beautiful, coquettish and particularly good at saying things that made his heart flutter, and it would be a lie to say that he was ever the least bit moved.

However, knowing what Rongjiu had been doing behind his back, Mo Ran felt that his mouth stank and was no longer interested in kissing it.

Thirty-two-year-old Mo Ran is different from fifteen-year-old Mo Ran in many ways.

At fifteen, for example, he still knew tenderness when it came to love; at thirty-two, there was only violence.

Afterwards, he looked at Rong Jiu, whose breath was dying and who had already passed out, and his upturned eyes, with their horizontal waves and dark currents, were slightly narrowed, actually with some sweet and silky smile. When he smiled, he was very pretty, his pupils were extremely dark and deep, and when viewed from certain angles, they were tinged with an extravagant layer of dark purple. At this moment, he smilingly carried Rong Jiu's hair and lifted the unconscious person onto the couch, picking up a piece of broken porcelain from the floor with his hand and dangling it over Rong Jiu's face.

He has always been vindictive, and now he is no different.

Thinking of how he had taken care of Rong Jiu's business in his previous life, even trying to ransom him, and how Rong Jiu had conspired with others to set himself up, he couldn't help but curl his eyes with a smile and put the sharp ceramic shard, against Rong Jiu's cheek.

This man is in the skin business, and without that face, there's nothing left.

This pandering man would be out on the streets like a dog, crawling on the ground, being kicked by boots, being run over, being scolded and spat on, omg it really made his body and mind happy just imagining it. It was almost as if the disgust he felt at having just fucked this man had dissipated.

Mo Ran's smile gets cuter and cuter.

A hint of blood oozed out of Huma's hand with a firm pressure.

The drowsy person seemed to feel the pain and, with a hoarse voice, gave a soft whisper, looking pitiful with teardrops still hanging on his eyelashes.

Mo Ran's hand suddenly stops.

He remembered an old friend.

""

Then, suddenly, he realised what he was doing now. He froze for a few seconds and finally, slowly, put his hand down.

What a habit of evil. He had forgotten that he had been reborn.

Now, nothing had happened yet, no great mistake had been made, and the man was not yet dead. Why did he have to be cruel and brutal again, when he could have done it all over again?

He sat down, one foot on the edge of the bed, absently playing with the broken porcelain pieces in his hand. Suddenly he saw the greasy pie still on the table, so he took it, peeled away the greasy paper and tore into it with a big bite, eating it with a mouth full of crumbs and oily lips.

The pancake, a speciality of this tile, wasn't really too good, it was like chewing wax compared to the delicacies he had tasted since, but after this tile had been poured, Mo Ran had never eaten the oil swirled pancake again. At the moment, the familiar flavour of the biscuits returned to his tongue across the rolls of the past.

With each swallow Mo Ran feels a little less surreal to be reborn.

Once the whole pie had been eaten, he finally slowly came back from his initial confusion.

He really is reborn.

All the evil in his life, all the things that are not to be turned back, have not yet begun.

He did not kill his aunt and uncle, he did not slaughter all the 72 cities, he did not deceive his teachers and ancestors, he did not get married, he did not

No one is dead yet.

He smacked his lips and licked his gnarled white teeth as he could feel a tiny wisp of joy in his chest rapidly expanding into a thrilling wave of frenzy and excitement. In his lifetime, he had been a reigning hero and had dabbled in all three forbidden arts of the human realm. He was proficient in the other two forbidden arts, except for the last one, Rebirth, which he had never mastered, even though he was extremely intelligent.

But I never imagined that what I could not ask for in life would come true in death.

All the resignation, despair, loneliness, all these five flavours are still resting in the chest, and the scene of the fire at the top of death and life, with the army pressing down on it, is still in front of us.

At that time, he really didn't want to live anymore. Everyone said that he was an orphan and that he was a rebel, and in the end he felt like a dead man walking around, bored and lonely.

But I don't know what went wrong, but a man of his ten vices was given a chance to start all over again after he had surrendered himself.

Why did he destroy Rongjiu's face to avenge such a little old personal vendetta?

Rongjiu is greedy for money. He would just whoring this meat seller once and taking some silver with him to punish him a little. He did not want to take on human lives for the time being.

"Cheap for you, Rongjiu."

Mo Ran smiled and said, firing the ends of her fingers and throwing the porcelain tiles out of the window.

Then he emptied all of Rongjiu's fine jewellery and put it all in his own pocket before he took his time to gather himself up and left the tile in good order.

Aunts and uncles, cousin Xue Meng, the Master, and

Mo Ran's eyes were suddenly tender at the thought of that person.

Brother, I have come to seek you.