Chapter 1: The deadbeat returns? No, it's the Hunter King reborn!

The icy cold permeates everywhere.

They pierce the threadbare quilt, stabbing like needles into the bone gaps.

Lu Qingshan bolted upright.

The earthen bed was hard and unyielding; his temple slammed solidly into the icy earth wall.

Thud!

A dull thud.

His vision burst with countless gold stars, his ears buzzed, as if a swarm of mosquitoes were frantically bouncing inside his head.

Severe blunt pain mingled with the lingering haze of a hangover and a sore, numb weakness throughout his limbs, violently shattering the fog in his mind.

He gasped a breath of cold air, instinctively curling up to catch a hint of warmth.

Futile.

The ragged quilt on him was just for show, blocking not a whisper of wind.

Outside, the bitter north wind howled like a beast.

The wind slipped through the gaps of the newspaper‑covered window and the cracks in the walls, pouring frenziedly into the tiny hut.

The icy current licked his exposed skin.

Cold.

So cold his teeth chattered uncontrollably.

This isn't a dream…

He's really come back!

Lu Qingshan stiffly turned his sore neck, his gaze struggling to sweep over the small, dilapidated earthen house.

Dim and cramped.

The window paper was torn in several large holes, letting in the weak gray light from outside, barely dispelling the darkness.

On the drafty walls, the old newspapers had long yellowed and curled at the edges.

The beams, blackened by years of smoke, bore a few trembling spiderwebs on the verge of collapse in the cold wind.

Every sight was intimately familiar.

So familiar it made his heart race, yet so alien it sent chills through his body.

This is… Shanwan Village.

It was his home, so poor it rattled, which he had ruined with his own hands!

This courtyard was the village production brigade of Shanwan Village, set up to marry him off, this educated youth who could not return to the city.

In his previous life he spent five years of wasted time here.

From naive romance, marriage and a daughter, to hopeless return to the city, he fell into self‑destructive domestic violence, picked up a gambling addiction and lost everything, then later clashed with debt collectors, accidentally injured someone, and was caught in a crackdown, sentenced to twenty years.

Memory burst forth like a flood released from a gate, surging and breaking its banks, instantly engulfing him.

Those utterly disgraceful deeds of his past life.

The unpaid gambling debts of his past life.

The heart‑rending despair of his past life.

The dull thud of fists landing on his wife and daughter.

The mad, blood‑shot screams at the gambling table.

The perpetually gray sky beyond the prison cell's iron bars.

And finally, the utter despair that hit him the moment he learned from the prison guards of his wife and daughter's grim fate…

One after another, these images sliced through his mind like blades.

Each flashback felt as if an icy giant hand clenched his heart ruthlessly, then twisted it cruelly.

Pain.

So painful he could barely breathe.

His gaze struggled to move, finally locking onto the corner of the kang.

Lin Yue'e sat there.

Like a soulless clay figurine.

Her frail body was swallowed by a bulky, tattered gray‑padded jacket whose original color was indiscernible, accentuating her bony frame as if a gust could topple her.

In her arms she clung tightly to a slender figure.

It was Xiao Xue.

Their three‑year‑old daughter.

A three‑year‑old ought to be delicately carved like jade, lovable to all.

But the Xiao Xue in her arms was skin and bone, her little face waxy and shriveled, cheeks deeply sunken, the wrist visible outside as thin as a dry twig ready to snap.

Long‑term starvation had reduced her to this state.

What pierced Lu Qingshan's heart most was his daughter's eyes.

Pitch black, they should have been clear and lively.

Now they were veiled in thick dust, empty, numb, devoid of any childlike spark.

When that gaze happened to sweep over him, there was no curiosity, no affection, only the fright and dodging of a small animal confronting a tiger.

As if he were some monster that picks and devours people.

Lu Qingshan's heart clenched suddenly.

A splitting pain, like a spiderweb, instantly spread through his limbs.

In his previous life, all his anger was vented on his wife and daughter; his daughter feared him exactly like this.

Afraid of his heavy breathing, afraid of his glaring eyes, and even more afraid of his sudden, unannounced slap that could fall at any moment.

He left his own flesh and blood only with boundless Fear and an indelible wound.

"You... you, don't come over!"

Lin Yue'e's voice rang out, hoarse and roaring, trembling with an uncontrollable shiver.

In her hand she clutched a rust‑stained kitchen knife tightly.

Her knuckles were whitened from the strain.

The blade, in the dim light, emitted a faint, heart‑pounding cold glint.

The tip pointed straight at Lu Qingshan on the kang.

Her gaze was hollow and numb, like a bottomless pool of dead water.

Yet in the deepest part of that dead water lay a desperate resolve and guard, born of being driven to the brink, ready to collapse at any moment.

It was the imprint carved into her heart, blade by blade, from years of beatings, endless disappointment, and bone‑deep Fear.

Lu Qingshan stared at the gleaming knife, at his wife's terrified, guarded posture, and at his daughter's silent Fear.

The overwhelming remorse and pain rose like a dark tide, nearly swallowing him whole.

In his previous life... what on earth had he done, that made him worse than a pig or dog?!

He looked around the wind‑blown, dilapidated home once more.

The hole in the roof remained, and the cold wind whistled in.

The rice jar in the corner was empty, its bottom so clean it could reflect a silhouette.

The stove was ice‑cold to the bone, its firebox holding only a few clumps of burnt ash.

This home probably couldn't even find a single whole grain of rice.

Another gust of cold wind passed, and he couldn't help but shiver.

His stomach felt hollow, hunger gnawing his organs like countless ants, a burning, scorching discomfort.

He was all too familiar with that feeling.

In his previous life, it was just like that.

Countless cold winters, the three of them struggled in hunger and cold, step by step sliding toward the abyss, toward an irretrievable dead end.

No!

Absolutely cannot continue like this!

He must do something!

He must change it all!

"Pah! Sangmen Star! Fighting again early in the morning, what the heck are you crazy about? You got drunk to death last night and still haven't sobered up? Always fighting in the nest, harassing your own wife and child, you're a worthless dog that can't even stand up!"

Next door, Qian Guapu's sharp, cutting voice rang out again.

The sound pierced the thin earthen wall, buzzing like flies, each word laced with unabashed contempt and schadenfreude.

It was as if she feared no one would hear, deliberately shouting with a strained throat, her voice sharp and piercing.

Each word was like a poison‑tipped needle, stabbing hard into Lu Qingshan's heart.

It hurt and made him feel mortified.

Humiliation, anger, and that bone‑deep helplessness swept over him again.

In his previous life, these mockeries and scorn had crushed him, leading to self‑destruction, a broken pot shattering, living less and less like a human.

But now it's different!

He, Lu Qingshan, has returned!

Since Heaven gave him a second chance at life, if he remains as muddled as before, a heap of sludge, he'd truly be worse than a pig or dog!

In this reborn life, he must never again endure such squalor!

He must never again let Yue E and Xiao Xue subsist on husks, enduring scorn and bullying!

As long as they are there, he has a home!

It must change!

Immediately! Right now!

For redemption.

For Yue E.

For Xiao Xue.

For this dilapidated home, yet bound by his blood!

He must keep living!

And also, he must live like a proper person!

Lu Qingshan clenched his teeth hard, his cheek puffed from the effort, his temples throbbing.

He bore the post‑hangover headache that felt like it would explode, and a whole‑body ache as if his limbs were falling apart, struggling to stand.

His body felt as if filled with lead, unbearably heavy.

Every tiny movement tugged at the sour ache in his bone joints.

He swayed, one hand gripping the cold edge of the kang, using all his strength, finally managing to stand, though unsteady.

His vision flickered black intermittently, a wave of vertigo rolling over him like a tide.

He had to extend his arm, grasp the cold wall, striving to steady himself.

The uneven, pitted ground, even stepping on it with shoes, bruised his soles painfully.

Then, step by step, he inched toward the doorway with extreme difficulty.

Each step felt like treading on a knife edge, pain making him grit his teeth.

What are you going to do?

From behind, Lin Yue'e's hoarse, icy voice suddenly sounded.

The voice was very soft, yet carried a tremor almost imperceptible.

In that voice, there was no trace of a wife's warmth, only aloofness that kept people at a distance and deep vigilance.

"Going to gamble again?" she asked.

Her tone was calmly terrifying.

But beneath that calm lay a despair that had built up for far too long, and a distrust long since worn away.

She had clearly given up on him completely.

She held not a shred of hope any longer.

Lu Qingshan's steps halted abruptly, as if nailed to the spot, utterly rigid.

He turned slowly, ever so slowly, and looked toward the wife curled up in the corner of the kang like a frightened bird.

He gazed at her numb, empty eyes.

He heard her question devoid of feeling, only endless weariness and despair.

Lu Qingshan's heart felt as if countless fine steel needles were repeatedly piercing it, leaving it riddled with wounds and bleeding.

He drew a deep breath, his chest heaving violently, desperately suppressing the surging sob and regret in his throat.

He summoned all his strength and roared toward his wife in the kang corner.

His voice was hoarse and broken, like the wail of a beast driven to desperation.

Yet it carried an unprecedented, unquestionable resolve and determination.

"I won't gamble anymore!"

"In this lifetime! I, old man, will never touch that stuff again!"

"I'll go out... to find something to eat!"

"I have to let you... let Xiao Xue... have a bite of hot food!"

His voice echoed fiercely in the dilapidated, empty house.

Each word felt as if it were squeezed out from the deepest part of his chest, exhausting all his strength and resolve at this moment.

After the roar, he gasped violently.