Innate Great Emperor

"AHHH! I don't want to die! I'm still young!" Wind roared past Su Beichen's ears. Countless lights and shadows streaked by like lightning. He felt like he was being sucked into a boundless black hole—traveling through space and time itself. He couldn't even scream anymore. It was like being thrown into a kaleidoscopic tunnel of stars. Sharp wind whistled in his ears. A chaos of ghostly images swam before his eyes. Surrounding him was a wild tangle of stars, countless strands of starlight weaving together. The overwhelming force assaulted his vision, making his head spin. Yet he couldn't close his eyes. Couldn't cover his ears. Couldn't even move a finger. He could only guard his mind, enduring the torment of these illusions with sheer mental fortitude. His body suddenly jolted. Beichen felt as if he'd pierced through something—and everything went pitch black. Then, a sensation like drowning in deep sea flooded his soul. Su Beichen made a strangled "hkk-hkk" sound, his tongue lolling out. The air in his lungs was being crushed to a breaking point by some strange external force. In moments of crisis, humans always find hidden strength. Su Beichen poured every ounce of his will into his right hand—the only part of him that had regained feeling—and clenched with all his might. He felt it. A rope, pulled tight around his neck. His whole body dangling like a dead fish. "BREAK!" He gathered every shred of spiritual strength and howled at the sky, yanking savagely at the death rope. With a ripping sound, Su Beichen heard something heavy hit the ground. Then pain shot through his feet—and he dropped like a sack of garbage. With his last bit of consciousness, he clawed the rope off his neck. A violent rush of air flooded his deflated lungs, sending him into a fit of coughing. Then, without suspense, he passed out. He didn't know how long he was out. Beichen vaguely registered the feeling in his fingers. He wiggled them, carefully exploring his surroundings. Cold, rough stone. "...Am I alive? Why is it still pitch black?" Beichen fumbled around like a blind man. Suddenly his hand brushed something warm. He grabbed it. A bamboo tube. He twisted off the cap—and a small red flame shot up. A tinderbox. He lit it. The faint glow revealed an oil lamp nearby. He quickly touched the flame to the wick. Light flooded the room. The stone chamber was spacious. Smooth, hard bluestone tiles covered the floor. A bed nearby was draped with soft brocade quilts and camel-hair blankets. But there were no windows. Only a small half-foot opening in the iron door across the room, where faint starlight seeped through. This shithole looked like a bedroom but wasn't. Like a cell but wasn't. What the hell kind of place was this? "...Am I having a nightmare? Wasn't I just... playing that new game 'Genesis of the Gods' at an internet cafe?" Su Beichen felt dazed. He rubbed his forehead, staring blankly at his new surroundings. "So it's nighttime. Might as well sleep." Beichen clicked his tongue. He touched his still-swollen throat, glanced at the strip of cloth hanging from the ceiling beam, and shuddered. Fuck. I transmigrate, and I end up in the body of some poor bastard who tried to hang himself? Where the hell am I? He still didn't understand the situation. But he had all his limbs. That meant he was alive. And if he was alive, everything else could wait. Devil-may-care Beichen stretched lazily, pushed all his questions aside, and collapsed onto the soft bed, falling into a deep sleep. Countless dense streams of data—like hundreds of instruments playing chaotic, disorderly notes—poured frantically into his consciousness. Suddenly, a voice full of resentment rose from his mind sea. "...I didn't steal the undergarments!" "...I didn't steal her undergarments!" "...Why frame me... why frame me..." Like a dying beast howling its most bitter accusation at the heavens, the voice erupted hysterically from the deepest part of his mind sea. It carried immense resentment, crashing into his consciousness again and again, echoing endlessly. A flood of memories filled with countless grievances surged through his entire being. "I didn't steal anything... why treat me like this..." "Hsss... haa..." Su Beichen bolted upright in bed. His face was ashen. Beads of cold sweat rolled down his cheeks. Everything around him was cold to the touch. Lonely. Dark. Chilling. A food box sat nearby. Inside was a blue-and-white porcelain teapot. The tea had gone cold. "Why is it still night? Why isn't it day? What the hell is this place?" Beichen shook his still-foggy head. He rubbed his swollen throat—courtesy of that suicide attempt—and spotted the teapot. He grabbed it and upended it over his head. Cool tea poured down his forehead. The faint fragrance cut through the chaos in his mind, bringing brief calm. "Why frame me... why frame me..." A massive wave of grief and resentment surged up from his heart again. Beichen's eyes stung. Tears nearly burst free. He clutched his head and collapsed onto the bed, convulsing in agony. "ENOUGH! Stop your f*****g wailing! If you've got a grievance, take revenge! If you've got a grudge, settle it! Endless whining is f*****g useless! Coward! i***t! Fool! Calm the hell down! Whatever debts you're owed—I'll collect them for you!" Beichen's mind was a mess. He finally exploded, clutching his head and roaring at the ceiling. The thunderous shout seemed to work. The lingering resentment was suppressed. Beichen took a long breath and slowly stood up, his eyes sharp and bright. The cell was huge. A passage led to the exit—a heavy iron door at the end. Beside it, a palm-sized window let a sliver of sunlight into the room, driving back some of the gloom. "Dawn..." Su Beichen jumped off the bed and walked outside the stone room, carefully scanning his surroundings. He slowly steadied his mind. Squinting against the sliver of sunlight from the window, he took in the scene. It was a cell. Surprisingly clean. The bedding wasn't damp. Faint green moss grew on the sturdy stone walls. Outside the thumb-thick window bars, emerald roses climbed thick and wild. Su Beichen steadied himself. He sensed something in his mind sea—a box-like frame, faintly etched with countless numbers. He immediately focused his attention on it. Everything went dark. A light screen flashed in his mind sea, displaying rows of data. Name: Ye Jin. Class: Rank 3 Warrior. Will: 8. Spirit: 19. Constitution: 12. Agility: 10. Strength: 15. Combat Skill: Spirit Eye 5. Martial Arts: Basic Fist Techniques. Internal Energy: Basic Internal Cultivation. Sub-classes: Physician, Artificer. Pet Slot: Little Green Sprite (Mumu). "My god! This is my class? Why does it look like my game account? What the hell is going on?" Su Beichen stared blankly at the rows of data. He plopped down onto the ground. His family had been a traditional Chinese medicine lineage for generations. He'd graduated from Capital University of Chinese Medicine and inherited his grandfather's exquisite acupuncture skills. But TCM was hard to find work in. So Su Beichen stayed home and opened his own acupuncture clinic. His needlework earned him a growing reputation. He reached out and tapped his Physician sub-class. He'd been a TCM doctor in reality. After entering the game, to make money, he'd kept his roots—took a physician quest from the village doctor and made it his sub-class. Physician Skills: Acupuncture 10, Great Healing Powder 8, Great Qi Tonic 8, Instant Wound Salve 6, Instant Essence Pill 6, Beauty Soup 10, Breast Enhancement Pill 10, Gecko Pill, Dragon Tiger Vigor Pill 10, Kidney Nourishing Essence Pill 10, Ecstasy Powder 10... f**k! Su Beichen's thick face flushed red. He cursed inwardly. He'd transmigrated, sure—but why did all the shady s**t he'd researched through medicine come along too? "Spirit Eye," Artificing, and the life skills for crafting health and qi potions were all from the Genesis game. Acupuncture and prescriptions came from his past life as a TCM doctor. And the Basic Fist Techniques and Basic Internal Cultivation in his stats? Those belonged to the body's original owner. Past life. Present life. Illusion. The now-fully-awake Su Beichen possessed three sets of memories—past life, present life, and game. Three classes. Three completely different skill sets. He thought about it. If he'd hit the cosmic lottery with something as rare as soul transmigration, then a status screen in his mind sea wasn't that strange. Once the excitement of the game stats faded, Su Beichen's consciousness returned to his current identity—Ye Jin's memories. His face darkened. He was locked in this gloomy cell. He could feel himself caught in a massive crisis. If he couldn't escape it, he'd probably lose his life. Ye Jin was the eldest son of the Ye clan patriarch's first wife. His mother was the primary wife. After his father took a second wife—Madam Wan—his mother had a huge fight with his father when Ye Jin was five. Then she vanished from the estate. The second wife, Madam Wan, had treated Ye Jin and his brother Ye Feng as thorns in her side ever since. But Madam Wan was exceptionally patient and cunning. She knew how to put on a show. From the moment she entered the Ye household, she'd treated the two brothers with absolute compliance—like they were little ancestors. She endured their sarcasm and hostility for three whole years. This long-suffering, obedient demeanor was seen by everyone in the Ye clan. The elders, the aunts, the uncles—everyone praised her as virtuous and kind. No one suspected that beneath that gentle, docile facade lurked a serpent's heart. A month ago, a Ye elder was celebrating his birthday. Madam Wan's niece, Wan Meng'er, came to visit and stayed at the Ye estate. That night, after Wan Meng'er bathed in the guest room, her intimate undergarments vanished. Huge uproar in the Ye household. The Ye clan had strict discipline. Such scandal and the culprit behind it could not be tolerated. A full search of the estate was conducted. And somehow—inexplicably—the stolen undergarments were found in Ye Jin's room. All hell broke loose. Like kicking a hornet's nest. Wan Meng'er didn't even eat dinner. She ran home crying. The entire Ye estate was in chaos. The clan elders were furious. The consequences would be severe. If this had happened in some commoner's home, imperial law would at most give a beating or a few days in jail. But the Ye family? A noble house spanning centuries! And this humiliating scandal involved an outsider—on a birthday celebration no less! If it spread, it'd be a massive scandal in the capital. The Ye clan was a prominent capital family, but many elder factions depended on the Wan family for business. Ye Jin's father, as patriarch, bore the crime of poor discipline—but couldn't be punished. So the punishment fell squarely on the culprit: Young Master Ye. No chance to argue. The elders locked the prime suspect Ye Jin in the great dungeon beside the ancestral shrine. The Ye family was one of the capital's three great houses. Reputation was everything. Sacrificing one or two clan members for reputation was nothing. Plus, Madam Wan had used her family connections to grease the elders' palms. If nothing changed, the disgraced suspect Ye Jin—condemned by all—would not escape death. "So that's how it is! A frame-up! A goddamn frame-up!" Su Beichen muttered through gritted teeth. "Stealing a woman's undergarments... f**k, what a disgusting crime. At least frame me for groping or rape." Beichen smiled bitterly. He hugged his knees, staring bleakly out the window.