Chapter 420: Deceiving Heaven, Guangrui Becomes Liu Hong

In that instant when the chaotic light erupted, time froze.

Liu Hong’s cruel smile froze rigidly on his face, the muscles around his eyes still twitching in place.

His hands, gripping the knife and driving it downward, were locked mid-motion, the blade’s tip having pierced his clothing and touched Chen Guangrui’s skin.

Beside him, Li Biao’s sinister gaze remained fixed on Yin Wenjiao, his wicked smirk frozen in place.

The gale rushing through the cabin door seemed to solidify; the flickering lantern flame froze at a bizarre, tilted angle.

The entire cabin sank into absolute silence.

Deep within the clouds, the heavenly winds howled.

The Golden-Headed Jieti and Silver-Headed Jieti sat cross-legged atop the clouds, their bodies wreathed in flowing Buddhist light.

Both looked down upon the Hong River below.

In their vision, the dilapidated boat still rocked violently amid the gales and towering waves.

Inside the cabin, Liu Hong’s blade pierced Chen Guangrui’s chest without obstruction, blood spraying.

“It’s over,” said the Silver-Headed Jieti, hands clasped, voice indifferent.

The Golden-Headed Jieti gave a slight nod: “The mortal ties are severed. Once this villain casts the corpse into the river, we may return to Guanyin Bodhisattva.”

The supreme power of the Chaos Bell suppressed time and space, perfectly shielding the heavenly fate.

These two Buddhist guardians were utterly unaware of the temporal separation unfolding beneath their very eyes.

Inside the cabin, Chen Guangrui felt no pain.

He found himself unable to move, as if even his breath had ceased.

Then, a gentle yet irresistible force forcibly tore his consciousness from his body.

A whirl of dizzying rotation ended as Chen Guangrui’s feet touched solid ground.

He looked around—there was no river, no wind or waves, no knife-wielding villain.

This was a boundless, gray-white space, with thick streams of gray-white energy churning in all directions.

Directly ahead stood a figure clad in green robes.

His back was turned, radiating a divine light that suppressed all ages.

The green-robed man slowly turned, his face lean and pale, with three long strands of beard, a faint, serene smile on his lips.

Chen Guangrui’s pupils shrank sharply.

“One Chen… Daoist?” Chen Guangrui cried out in shock.

He had assumed the protective talisman gifted by a high immortal had merely activated to block the fatal strike.

Now, sensing the transcendent, heaven-defying aura of a true immortal emanating from the man, Chen Guangrui stood frozen like a statue.

His knees buckled, and he collapsed heavily to the ground.

“Daoist, please save me!” Chen Guangrui bowed his head repeatedly, tears and sobs streaming, “Those two river bandits have lost all conscience—please use your immortal arts to slay these villains and save my helpless wife!”

Su Chen watched Chen Guangrui kneel and bang his head on the ground, but made no move to assist.

“Killing two mortal river bandits is as easy as blowing air,” Su Chen said calmly. “But kill them, and bandits on the mountains, highway robbers will arise. Your death today was inevitable.”

Chen Guangrui snapped his head up, face filled with disbelief: “What do you mean, Daoist? I have lived my life doing good, revering heaven and earth—why must I face a certain death?”

Su Chen raised his right hand and swept his sleeve.

The chaotic energy before them swiftly coalesced into a vast mirror, its surface revealing a scene.

In the image, Liu Hong’s blade pierced Chen Guangrui’s heart.

Chen Guangrui collapsed into a pool of blood, eyes wide open in death.

Liu Hong and Li Biao dragged his corpse out of the cabin and hurled it with a splash into the raging Hong River.

Chen Guangrui watched his own gruesome death in the vision, trembling all over.

The scene continued to shift.

Yin Wenjiao tried to throw herself into the river to die with him, but Liu Hong held her back with iron force.

Liu Hong took Chen Guangrui’s official credentials, donned the green official robe, and replaced him as Department Magistrate of Jiangzhou.

He attempted to rape Yin Wenjiao, but she threatened suicide each time, forcing him to retreat.

Yin Wenjiao wished to die, but discovered she was pregnant; to protect the child in her womb, she endured humiliation and feigned submission.

After ten months of pregnancy, Yin Wenjiao gave birth to a baby boy inside the Jiangzhou government office.

She bit her finger, wrote a blood letter, then bit off one of the infant’s left toe joints as a mark, tied the child to a wooden board, and pushed it into the river.

The vision froze on the infant drifting downstream.

Chen Guangrui’s eyes turned bloodshot, his fingernails digging deep into his palms, blood dripping to the ground.

“Daoist… what is this?” Chen Guangrui’s voice was hoarse, saturated with utter despair.

“This is your original fate,” Su Chen said coldly, his gaze piercing Chen Guangrui’s soul. “This is no ordinary robbery. This is the Western Heaven’s Buddhist sect deliberately arranging your death so your unborn child may undergo tribulation, sever his mortal blood ties, and walk unswervingly down the path they’ve laid out—for them to control him as a pawn.”

Chen Guangrui was struck as if by lightning, frozen in place.

“The gods and Buddhas want you dead, your wife humiliated. Only when you die can your child sever his mortal kinship, focus entirely, and become the tool they’ve prepared,” Su Chen spoke without emotion.

Images flashed through Chen Guangrui’s mind: his mother’s hopeful gaze on her sickbed, his wife’s desperate cries.

He had studied the classics, revered heaven and spirits, bought golden carp to release, all to accumulate virtue.

And what had he earned? A shattered family, destroyed by gods and Buddhas for the sake of a single scheme!

After a brief moment of stunned shock and trembling, Chen Guangrui’s boundless rage shattered his fear.

He surged to his feet, eyes blazing, veins bulging on his forehead.

“I will not revere gods who treat mortals as grass, who drain our bones and marrow!” Chen Guangrui roared. “I will not accept this cruel fate forced upon me!”

Su Chen watched the frail scholar unleash this ferocious spirit, and gave a slight nod.

“Good,” Su Chen said. “Since you refuse fate, I will give you a way to break it.”

Chen Guangrui turned and knelt again: “Please, Daoist, guide me!”

“Two paths,” Su Chen held up two fingers. “First: I use my divine power to create a false corpse of you and cast it into the river, deceiving the Buddhist sect. You leave with me, vanish your name and identity. Your wife still suffers humiliation; your child still drifts downstream.”

Chen Guangrui clenched his teeth and shook his head without hesitation.

“Second,” Su Chen lowered his fingers, his gaze deep and piercing. “I use my divine power to transform your appearance and reverse your karmic thread. You become Liu Hong.”

Chen Guangrui snapped his head up.

“The real Liu Hong will become your corpse, sunk into the Hong River. You, wearing Liu Hong’s face, carrying your own official credentials, will become the Department Magistrate of Jiangzhou,” Su Chen explained his plan. “With this identity, you may legally protect your wife and raise your child. But to your wife and those gods and Buddhas, you will be the utterly wicked river bandit.”

Chen Guangrui gasped heavily.

The plan was too shocking—he would become the man who killed him, and face his own wife.

After a moment’s thought, a look of grim resolve flashed in Chen Guangrui’s eyes.

“As long as I can protect Wenjiao, as long as I can shatter the scheming of these hypocritical gods,” Chen Guangrui declared firmly, “I, Chen E, am willing to become a demon!”

“As you wish,” Su Chen raised his hand.

Within his dantian, the Primordial Great Luo Dao Fruit spun, and gray-white Primordial spiritual power surged into a pillar of light, engulfing Chen Guangrui’s soul.

Su Chen activated the Chaos Bell; the power suppressing time and space directly twisted the original karmic threads binding Chen Guangrui and Liu Hong.

Two invisible karmic threads intertwined and reconnected in Su Chen’s hands.

“Go!” Su Chen flicked his finger.

Chen Guangrui’s soul became a streak of light, instantly shooting out of the gray-white space.

Inside the cabin, Chen Guangrui suddenly opened his eyes.

He looked down and saw a pair of rough, calloused hands.

These hands gripped a thick-backed broadsword, its blade hovering just above the green official robe below.

Following the blade’s tip, he saw a corpse lying on the floor—lean-faced, scholarly, unmistakably “Chen Guangrui.”

The real Liu Hong had been erased by Su Chen’s Primordial spiritual power, his form and face altered into a corpse.

Chen Guangrui took a deep breath—he understood: from this moment on, he was no longer Chen Guangrui. He was Liu Hong.

Time resumed its flow; the howling wind outside and the roaring river returned.

The wind continued to blow through the cabin.

“Husband!”

Yin Wenjiao’s piercing cry rang out.

Chen Guangrui clenched the bloody sword in his hands, veins bulging on his forearms.

He slowly turned his head and saw Yin Wenjiao, heartbroken and weeping.

Beside her, Li Biao stared at Yin Wenjiao, licked his lips, and grinned with lewd intent.

“Big Brother, this scholar’s dead. Let this little lady be my first taste?”

Li Biao spoke as he advanced toward Yin Wenjiao, holding his bone-splitting dagger.