8. Cornered Young Lord

In a massive room dimly lit by flickering candlelight, Mo Yichen sat slouched in a chair, one arm draped over the windowsill as he gazed at the star-strewn sky. The streets now were eerily empty, swallowed by the pitch-dark night. A cold breeze drifted through the open window, making the candle flames dance.

Mo Yichen let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temples.

Taking over the world—now that was easier said than done.

He turned his attention to the messy parchment in front of him, covered in hastily scribbled notes and the occasional doodle of smug-looking figures. He grabbed his brush and started writing again.

Step One: Get stupidly strong.

Yeah, no kidding.

If he wanted to dominate the world, he needed to be an absolute combat beast—not just strong, but so terrifyingly powerful that people trembled at the mere mention of his name.

Back in his previous life, he had been a top-tier researcher and alchemist, and although he was not a slouch in combat. Still, this is the world domination we are talking about.

He needed to level up fast.

Step Two: Figure out this YinYang spiritual root thingy asap!

Mo Yichen tapped his brush against the table, scowling. His cheat-like system had been somewhat helpful, dropping hints here and there, but he knew better than to blindly trust it.

What if it suddenly disappeared like all those times in the past!?

No, sir. He was not about to put his fate in the hands of some temperamental, possibly malfunctioning system.

He had to do his own research, read ancient texts, and maybe even find an old, wise hermit willing to spill some of their prestigious knowledge.

He scribbled furiously, adding a new sub-point "Find ancient hermit. Bribe him with wine. If that fails, kidnap him."

Mo Yichen leaned back in his chair, stretching lazily. Ruling the world was a lot of work.

Maybe he should start small? Like… making money first?

"And fame!"

Mo Yichen exhaled, his eyes twinkling as if he had just uncovered the key to his grand destiny.

Yes! Money and fame!

That was where he needed to start! After all, if he wanted to rule the world, he needed resources, influence, and a legendary reputation. No great ruler started from scratch without first securing wealth and power.

But just as excitement swelled within him, a grim expression twitched on his face. His Supreme Purity Spirit Power is gone now.

That meant he couldn't even condense a simple low-grade potion.

That meant he had no business, no income, no reputation.

That meant—he was broke.

His head dropped dramatically, his chin almost hitting his chest as he slumped like a defeated dumpling.

How was he supposed to make money without his cheat-like spirit power?!

Back in his previous world, he had been hailed as a prodigy, a once-in-a-lifetime researcher. He had worked hard for it, there was no denying that, but his rare and pure spirit power had been his greatest advantage. He could refine top-tier pills in mere breaths, and concoct legendary elixirs with ease.

But now?

Now, he didn't even have an ounce of that power.

All the knowledge in the world meant nothing if he couldn't even perform the most basic alchemical arts.

A sad smile tugged at his lips as he tilted his head up, staring at the vast, starry sky. Where was he even supposed to begin? Just as frustration threatened to sink in, movement flickered at the edge of his vision.

Mo Yichen's body tensed instantly.

Something was lurking behind the trees in the distance.

His eyes narrowed sharply, scanning the shadowy figure, but from this distance, he couldn't get a proper look.

A thief?

An assassin?

A long-lost debtor finally here to collect money?

Leaving (more like hiding) the money bag under the pillow, his body moved on its own—leaping down from the window and landing soundlessly in the courtyard below. The night was eerily still, the moonlight casting long shadows across the deserted inn courtyard.

His movements were silent, precise, and calculated as he made his way toward the line of trees. His breathing slowed, his heartbeat steady despite the rush in his veins.

Then—

A black-clad figure suddenly bolted from behind the trees.

Without hesitation, Mo Yichen sprang forward, chasing after them at full speed.

The wind howled past his ears as his feet barely touched the ground, his figure darting through the night like a bat. The chase twisted through alleys, over rooftops, down winding forest paths, the figure ahead never stopping, never slowing, moving like a wisp of smoke.

Still, Mo Yichen closed the distance, his fingers nearly brushing the hem of their cloak—

And then—

The figure vanished..

Vanished!!

Just like that!!.

Mo Yichen skidded to a halt, his breath coming in slow, controlled exhales. His sharp gaze swept the surroundings, searching for any sign of the mysterious man. But there is nothing.

No rustling of leaves. No lingering presence.

Not even footprints...

Only silence.

And when he finally took a moment to observe his surroundings, realization dawned upon him like a slap to the face.

He was in the middle of nowhere.

The city lights had long since disappeared behind him. The inn was nowhere in sight.

All around him was an endless, desolate clearing, surrounded by towering trees that swayed ominously in the night breeze. The sky above was vast and empty, the stars flickering like tiny shards of distant fire.

A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

Mo Yichen had a bad feeling. The kind of feeling you get when you owe a debt and suddenly see the loan shark grinning at you from across the street.

"…Why do I feel a bad premonition?" he muttered.

WHOOSH!

A blade came screaming toward his face. He barely twisted his body in time, his foot skidding against the dirt as he dodged, catching the knife between two fingers. But the sharp edge still nicked his cheek, and a warm bead of blood trailed down.

"…What the actual—"

Before he could even curse properly, five figures dressed in black from head to toe emerged from the shadows like they'd been waiting for him. Their faces were hidden, but their intent was very, very clear.

Murder O'Clock.

Mo Yichen straightened up, his senses kicking into high alert of danger. These guys weren't your average street thugs—the way they concealed their presence meant they were at least in the Foundation Establishment stage. And he? He was currently in the Helpless Mortal About to Get His Ass Kicked stage.

Squinting, he asked, "…Who are you?"

A low, mocking chuckle echoed as one of the men, the leader judging by how he stepped forward with maximum villain energy, sneered,

"Are you even qualified to know our names?"

Mo Yichen narrowed his eyes. Oh, so we're doing the 'mysterious assassin' cosplay? Got it. But before he could drop a snarky comeback, the man extended his hand, thick, black Qi swirling ominously, forming a flame so venomous that the air itself seemed to warp.

"…"

Mo Yichen took one good look at that flame and did what any rational, self-preserving man would do.

He turned on his heel and RAN LIKE HELL.

"FUCK—!"

The first attack missed him by inches, scorching the air where he stood a second ago. He dove, rolled, and bounced off the ground like a ragdoll while his mind screamed:

"What the f—WHY ME?! I DIDN'T EVEN OFFEND ANYONE YET!'"

A second attack whooshed past his head, and Mo Yichen somersaulted over a fallen branch.

"SYSTEM! SYSTEM! HELP!" he shrieked mentally.

Silence.

"…You rotten, good-for-nothing, traitorous junk of a system"

Still dodging, Mo Yichen did what little he could—kicking a guy's shin, throwing dirt in another's face, rolling like a desperate dumpling—but he had no powers. No cultivation. Nothing.

And the assassins were getting serious.

At first, they had been toying with him. But now? They stopped holding back.

The next attack slammed into his side like a battering ram, sending him flying straight into a tree. A sharp, wet pain tore through his ribs, and the impact rattled his bones like a broken puppet.

"—ACK!" Mo Yichen barely caught himself before he collapsed, blood splattering from his mouth. His left arm was numb, his right leg shaking, and oh, lovely—his entire body felt like it's been rolled over by a bulldozer.

His situation if described in one word can be said as... pityful.

This was bad.

He coughed violently, spitting out another mouthful of blood, and tried to stand, only for his knee to buckle beneath him.

One knee down. Blood dripping. Five assassins closing in.

Mo Yichen panted, his vision blurring. He had never felt so powerless before. And in this useless body cannot handle another blow.

"System—" he croaked. 

No response.

"You useless son of a—! SYSTEM, GET YOUR LAZY ASS HERE"

The lead assassin stepped forward, raising his hand for the final blow. The flames flickered, the black Qi swirling ominously like death's open arms.

Mo Yichen gritted his teeth, staring at the attack that was about to turn him into a human barbecue.

He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth.. but the attack never really came.

Looking up he saw a shadow step in front of him.

The assassin's fire collided with a defense barrier, dispersing instantly.

Mo Yichen's breath hitched.

What—?

As his dazed eyes focused, he saw the figure properly. A man, clad in tattered, dirty beggar's robes, his hair messy, his face covered in grime. But despite his ragged appearance, the air around him was strong. "A late-stage Foundation Establishment.."

With one flick of his wrist, the beggar attacked, sending one of the assassins flying backward.

Mo Yichen, still coughing blood, blinked.

"…Who are you?"

"..Young Lord"

Mo Yichen barely had time to register what was happening when he saw it—

A massive, roaring purple flame.

"Behind you!" he shouted instinctively.

The monstrous fire surged toward them, splitting the night sky with a violet glow, illuminating the twisted smirks of the assassins. But before Mo Yichen could even think of dodging—

The man in tattered robes moved.

No hesitation. No thought.

Just a step—placing himself directly in front of Mo Yichen—using his own back as a shield.

The purple flame slammed into him, full force.

Mo Yichen watched, stunned, horrified, as the man lurched forward, his body trembling violently. A fresh mouthful of blood splattered from his lips, dark and heavy.

"You…" Mo Yichen croaked, barely able to speak as he saw the man sway on his feet.

But the beggar—who clearly wasn't an ordinary beggar—instead smiled softly, his lips twitching as he turned slightly to Mo Yichen.

"Young Lord, I finally found you."

Mo Yichen just gawked at him, his brain still buffering.

"The hell are you talking about—"

Before he could process anything, the man's balance gave out, and he collapsed to the ground.

"Why did you—" Mo Yichen's voice wavered, a strange guilt curling in his chest. This man—(this idiot)—had taken a direct hit for him.

The assassins didn't wait.

They moved in, surrounding them from all sides. Shadows twisted and flickered under the eerie purple glow, their killing intent pressing down like a huge truck.

The beggar—the man who just tanked a whole ass fireball to the spine—pushed himself up with sheer willpower. His hands shook, his legs trembled, but his eyes blazed with determination.

"Don't be afraid, Young Lord," he rasped, his voice raw, yet steady. "Run. I will hold them off for you."

"No f—way!" Mo Yichen snapped, anger flaring in his chest. "You think I'm just gonna ditch you like some disposable dissecting gloves?!"

But before he could argue more, the assassins attacked.

The man barely dodged the first blade, his movements sluggish from his wounds, yet precise. He retaliated instantly, swinging his sword in a sharp arc, catching one attacker in the side.

Blood splattered the dirt.

The second assassin lunged. The beggar twisted, barely blocking in time, but the force sent him staggering back.

Then came the third—A direct stab to his shoulder.

Mo Yichen watched as the blade sank in deep, blood pouring like a waterfall.

His breath hitched.

He's gonna die.

This wasn't a fight they could handle.

Mo Yichen gritted his teeth, his mind racing.

"System. System. System!"

Nothing.

"Goddamn it! Where are you, you trash heap of code?!"

Another sword sliced into the beggar's side, and Mo Yichen nearly lost it.

Useless.

He felt he was utterly useless.

He had all this knowledge, but without power, he was nothing.

The assassins closed in. The beggar stood firm, but Mo Yichen could see it—he wouldn't last much longer.

Then, something clicked.

The system's last words.

'Heavenly Nectar Peach…'

His eyes snapped to his waist, to the small silk pouch still tied to his belt.

"F—k me, how did I forget this?!"

With frantic hands, he yanked the pouch open. Sure enough, inside was a small, delicate peach, its skin shimmering with hints of pink.

Hope surged in his chest. He looked at the man. "Can you hold them for just a moment?!"

The man didn't respond. Just a brief nod.

Mo Yichen dropped down cross-legged, the chaos around him dulling as he stared at the peach.

Alright. Let's try this.

He shoved the fruit into his mouth and—

Mo Yichen froze as the taste hit him like a truck.

Bitter. Not just normal bitter. This was 'my tongue is being skinned alive' bitter.

His face contorted like a dying frog.

"WHY IS THIS SO DISGUSTING?!" he gagged, eyes watering. Who in the nine realms decided this was edible?!

But before he could spit it out, something slammed into his chest.

Pain. Blinding, excruciating pain.

His meridians felt like they were being torn apart, a raging torrent of energy slamming into every blocked path in his body.

"—ARGHHH!!!"

Sweat poured down his face as he clutched his chest, his body convulsing.

The pain was so intense, he could barely breathe.

His meridians cracked open all at once, like floodgates bursting, sending a wave of raw, untamed power surging through him.

The assassins paused, sensing the sudden shift in energy.

Mo Yichen's body trembled. Something inside him had just awakened.