「That night.」
The gloomy, damp Imperial Capital Prison was devoid of light. From time to time, wretched, unearthly screams echoed through the darkness, enough to make one's skin crawl.
This frigid dungeon was located deep underground, a place where pleas to heaven and earth went unanswered. For those who entered, the chances of survival were slim.
The sound of footsteps was followed by the appearance of two dancing flames. A closer look revealed two tall, burly Black Armored Imperial Guards holding torches. They walked to the end of the corridor where one opened a heavy stone lock, while the other pushed open a thick, wrought-iron cell door and tossed a slender man, limp as a dead fish, inside.
Lu Mingyuan lay on the damp, bluestone floor.
He slowly opened his eyes under the piercing glare of the torches. His limbs ached, and he found a wisp of dry grass clutched in his hand.
His eyes darted around, taking in the scene with a confused expression.
'Where is this?'
'Wasn't I on the operating table?'
'I must be dreaming.'
'I didn't expect the anesthetic to be this effective.'
'I just wonder how long recovery from this circumcision will take. I finally managed to take my annual leave, and the whole thing's gone to waste on this.'
'Though it's not hard to get time off work, being gone too long is bound to annoy my boss.'
As Lu Mingyuan was lost in thought, a voice shattered the silence.
"Sixth Prince, you're finally awake."
The Black Armored Imperial Guard with the tattooed arm, standing to the left of the cell door, said expressionlessly.
'Sixth Prince?'
'Is he talking to me? This dream is surprisingly interactive.'
Lu Mingyuan pondered this. Finding the torchlight too glaring, he turned onto his side and couldn't help but ask:
"Who are you?"
The Black Armored Imperial Guard explained flatly, "By order of the Holy Emperor, we are temporarily serving as Prison Guards to watch over Your Highness. We hope you will not try any clever tricks or make things difficult for us. Please wait patiently for your trial and sentencing tomorrow."
Without another word, he locked the heavy iron cell door.
'The Holy Emperor's order.'
'Trial tomorrow?'
The torchlight receded, plunging the area back into darkness. The prison returned to a dead silence, but Lu Mingyuan still hadn't processed what was happening.
The next moment, a flood of unfamiliar memories surged into his mind. He broke out in a cold sweat, clutching his head and crying out in pain.
"Hiss! My head is killing me."
As the memories of his two lives—past and present—began to merge, he gradually understood everything that was happening.
'This isn't a dream.'
'He had transmigrated.'
'He never thought a simple circumcision would actually bring him to a magnificent world where Daoist Techniques were made manifest, Martial Cultivators reigned supreme, and Confucian Buddhism flourished.'
Confucian Saints held high court, their words becoming heavenly law as they civilized the masses. Martial Arts Grandmasters could rout armies, shatter cities, and sever rivers, forcing Demon Fiends to flee. Human Immortals of the Taoist Sect possessed boundless Mana, capable of holding the sea within a jade cup or creating an entire world from a single flower.
He was in an underground death row cell in the Imperial Capital, the heart of the Great Yan Dynasty.
The Great Yan Dynasty, established 368 years ago, was hailed as the greatest nation of the Central Plains' Human Clan. It teemed with Cultivators, and nations from all corners of the world came to pay tribute. Taoism and Confucian Temples flourished across the land, and lesser kingdoms revered and worshipped the very name of Great Yan.
However, his new identity was a bit of a headache.
The current Holy Emperor was a brilliant ruler who had presided over an era of both civil and martial prosperity. He had been on the throne for over sixty years and was already of an advanced age. If he would only abdicate and pass the prosperous empire he had built to the next generation, he could surely ensure the continuation of the Great Yan's grand legacy.
However, despite being afflicted by old injuries and illnesses, the Holy Emperor had yet to name an heir. His constitution was remarkably resilient, and he had managed to hold on until now.
He had also been quite the romantic, siring many sons, a number of whom were exceptionally talented—true dragons among men. This, in turn, had led to an increasingly tense situation.
He had no fewer than nine adult sons.
And as it happened, he had transmigrated into the body of the current Emperor of Great Yan's sixth son, a prince who shared his very name: Lu Mingyuan, the Sixth Prince.
Ordinarily, this would have been a cause for celebration.
After all, he now had a claim to the throne. As a Prince born in Great Yan, he was guaranteed a life of endless splendor and wealth. A lifetime free from worry, with a harem of wives and concubines, was no longer just a dream.
However.
He learned from his memories that during a war between Great Yan and the Demon Country, after the enemy commander, the Demoness of the Demon Kingdom, had been captured... his predecessor had let her escape!
'Big trouble!'
His predecessor had always been one of the old Emperor's more unremarkable sons, saddled with numerous vices.
He was particularly lecherous, a compulsive gambler, and a whoremonger, earning him the title of the Capital City's number one wastrel. There wasn't a single brothel in the Imperial Capital where the Sixth Prince's name was not known.
But Lu Mingyuan felt that even if his predecessor hadn't let the Demoness of the Demon Kingdom go for the sake of her beauty, he wouldn't have lived long anyway.
With so many Princes vying for a single throne, the struggle was undoubtedly a bloodbath. Judging by his predecessor's character, he didn't seem like the type to survive. It was only a matter of time before he became a casualty.
As Lu Mingyuan sorted through the complex information in his mind, he couldn't help but rub his face.
The pressure felt immense.
Good news: I started with a god-tier hand—I'm a Prince of the ruling dynasty.
Bad news: It's the Nine Dragons Struggle for the Throne, a death sentence with no chance of survival.
"At least I don't have to go to work anymore. That's good news."
Lu Mingyuan comforted himself with a bitter laugh.
'It's a shame, though. The stable government job I spent three years trying to get is completely useless now.'
'But before any of that, I have to figure out how to survive. I can't just kick the bucket right after transmigrating.'
Releasing an enemy commander was, according to the laws of Great Yan, tantamount to colluding with the enemy and committing treason—a capital offense.
However, as Lu Mingyuan carefully recalled the details of the Demoness's escape, he discovered something odd.
A figure like the Demoness of the Demon Kingdom would have been guarded by only the strongest experts.
There's no way they would have let his predecessor, a man with no Cultivation, get close to her without putting up any resistance.
In his memory, the very fact that his predecessor was able to enter the prison and undo the Demoness's Dragon-Sealing Lock was incredibly strange.
'Could it be that someone framed him?'
The more Lu Mingyuan thought about it, the more he felt something was wrong.
Although his predecessor was a lecherous and vile man who had even stooped to abducting common women, he wasn't a complete idiot. He would never have willingly committed an act so clearly suicidal as releasing the Demoness.
Therefore, there was only one possibility: one of the other Princes wanted to use this opportunity to eliminate him.
By pinning the crime of releasing the Demoness on him, they could eliminate a competitor.
In other words, he was already caught in the vortex of the struggle for the throne.
'But as long as I'm alive, there's a chance to turn this around!'
Driven by an intense will to survive, Lu Mingyuan clasped his hands behind his back and paced back and forth in the cell, desperately trying to think of a way out.
But after racking his brains for what felt like an eternity, he had no leads.
A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.
Tomorrow was the day of his trial and sentencing.
There wasn't much time left.
Suddenly, he looked at the wisp of dry grass in his hand, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Then, as he rubbed a thin, red ligature mark on his wrist, an idea flashed through his mind.
'Could it be…'
Lu Mingyuan recalled an extremely vicious cursing method from his previous life: stabbing a small effigy.
It also went by another name: Witchcraft, Gu Poison, and Demon Arts.
You only needed a person's birth characters, which you would stuff into an effigy made of dry grass. Then, by communicating with a Yin Spirit and performing a ritual, you could control the actions of the person to whom the birth characters belonged.
'Was I framed? Was someone pulling strings from the shadows?'
Having figured this out, he dragged his frail body to the thick, wrought-iron cell door, took a deep breath, and murmured:
"I hope this works. It's my only shot…"
With that, he slammed his head directly against the iron door.
BANG!
BANG!
BANG!
The piercing impacts quickly drew the attention of the two Black Armored Imperial Guards nearby.
"Your Highness?!"
By the time they rushed over, they found Lu Mingyuan collapsed on the ground, his head bleeding profusely.
Seeing this, they hastily unlocked the cell. One of them helped him up and checked for breath. His expression changed drastically. He threw Lu Mingyuan onto his back and sprinted out, shouting as he ran:
"Summon the Imperial Physician!"
...