Chapter 40: The Most Pitiful Reincarnated Fool in History!

Oh, Heaven!

Oh, Earth!

Heaven does not abandon those who strive!

Dou Changsheng’s heart, once dead and lifeless, suddenly came alive again.

Gazing at Qingyang Daoist, eyes blazing with fury, glaring fiercely at him, Dou Changsheng’s smile grew even brighter.

The angrier Qingyang Daoist became, the more excited Dou Changsheng felt.

For in this mere half-hour, Dou Changsheng had endured a dramatic rise and fall.

What had been a completely lost game had been miraculously revived by Dou Changsheng, the situation instantly reversed.

Fixing his gaze on Dou Changsheng, Qingyang Daoist’s eyes flickered with a hint of savagery; one hand trembled violently, ready to slap the man before him into oblivion.

No matter how gifted one may be, if one has not yet grown strong, it is all useless.

But Qingyang Daoist could sense a cold, clear gaze hovering in midair, calmly watching him.

Princess Ye, Tang Qingyan.

Even though Dou Changsheng stood right beside him, if Tang Qingyan wished to save him, she could whisk him away effortlessly.

Though Tang Qingyan was merely a Pure Yin Master, others of similar realm were not rare.

Yet Tang Qingyan ranked on the Earth List, while they could only gaze from afar—this was all because of the third-fastest speed in the world.

Qingyang Daoist seethed with rage, muttering low: “I...”

“I fell so easily.”

Qingyang Daoist never imagined the world could produce someone like Dou Changsheng.

The Regenerative Mystic Water, forged by the Three Yang God’s secret method, was a celestial treasure, a holy healing substance; in the era since the Three Yang God’s disappearance, its value had skyrocketed further.

With such a priceless treasure in hand, how could an ordinary person possibly use it unless at the brink of death?

To hoard it was the norm.

But Dou Changsheng had used it on a dead man.

“Reviving the dead” was merely a legend.

Who among ordinary people would dare gamble with such a rare supply of Regenerative Mystic Water?

Even out of curiosity, one would restrain oneself.

Yet here stood an idiot who actually did it.

This shattered Qingyang Daoist’s flawless plan with its greatest flaw.

He did not die—he came back to life.

Qingyang Daoist groaned: “If I had known this, I would’ve used fake Regenerative Mystic Water!”

Dou Changsheng sneered, cutting him off: “You wouldn’t have.”

“If this Regenerative Mystic Water had been fake, your death would’ve been flawed—everyone would assume you betrayed me, not that I obtained the Qingyang Secret Art.”

“To make it convincing, to ensure all attention was drawn away from you, so you could hide safely in the shadows...”

“This Regenerative Mystic Water could not be fake.”

Dou Changsheng spoke these final words with iron certainty.

Dou Changsheng paused briefly, then continued: “This plan of yours must have been prepared for a long time, just waiting for the right opportunity.”

“An ordinary person could never bear the burden of being the Qingyang Heir.”

“But my appearance showed you your chance.”

“You knew I came from the wilds, yet had acquired part of a cultivation art, causing the world to mistakenly believe I was a scion of the Wang Clan of Shanzhou.”

“You believed it—thinking I possessed extraordinary talent, coupled with deep background, so the Shanzhou Wang Clan would never abandon me, even if I became the Qingyang Heir.”

“The Wang Clan would shield me, protect me from greedy predators—I wouldn’t die anytime soon.”

“And that time would be enough for you to fake your death and escape safely.”

“I must admit, it was a brilliant plan.”

“But your cleverness betrayed you.”

“You succeeded because of the Regenerative Mystic Water—and you failed because of it.”

Qingyang Daoist’s expression darkened; he had never doubted the value of the Regenerative Mystic Water—and precisely because of that, he never imagined anyone would give it to a dead man. Since no one ever did, the greatest mystery of the Regenerative Mystic Water would remain unknown.

Thus, his fake death and escape would proceed flawlessly.

Even if his body was destroyed, he need not fear—the Regenerative Mystic Water could revive the dead and restore flesh and bone.

Dou Changsheng gazed at Qingyang Daoist with pity, as if looking at a corpse.

Yes—a corpse.

The Regenerative Mystic Water was already priceless, tied to the former Earth List No. 1, the Three Yang God; now, with its ability to revive the dead, even “restoring flesh and bone” paled in comparison.

The value of the Regenerative Mystic Water would surge to terrifying heights.

Especially since this Regenerative Mystic Water was artificially refined, not naturally formed.

This secret art alone could reshape the world’s balance of power.

Of course, Dou Changsheng knew reviving the truly dead was impossible.

The Regenerative Mystic Water could not bring back the dead; Qingyang Daoist had revived only because his spiritual will had not yet dissipated—he had not died completely.

But the world would not care. Even Earth List Masters had regrets.

Take the Shanzhou Wang Clan: the current patriarch should have been Wang Tianyang.

He rose to fame young, possessed astonishing talent, excelled in both literature and martial arts; after entering officialdom, he upheld justice and was deeply trusted by the late emperor, becoming a pillar of the state.

The Wang Clan flourished because of him.

The current Wang patriarch, as a child, was unruly and heavily reliant on his elder brother’s care.

Their bond was close; now that the chance exists, how could they possibly let it slip away?

This is merely one example. Brothers, father and son, husband and wife—such intimate bonds were countless across the martial world.

Who in life has no regrets?

Lost loved ones, dead close friends.

Now, they are given another chance.

To live a second life—even if the hope is slim, it would drive them mad.

Even if the Three Yang God had long vanished, even if he still lived today, someone would dare risk everything.

Men die for wealth, birds die for food; when the profit is great enough, nothing is beyond reach.

Qingyang Daoist’s remaining life was destined to be imprisonment—even if he revealed the Qingyang Secret Art, he would never be released.

His existence would become the greatest treasure in the martial world.

What were the Imperial Court and the Chancellor’s Mansion to the world?

Only Qingyang Daoist, a Master ranked among the top ten of the Earth List, could fear no danger.

But he was merely an ordinary Divine Ability Master.

Qingyang Daoist lived—but he was already dead.

Better to die than live, yet unable to die even if he wished.

Qingyang Daoist finally understood, letting out a bitter laugh, making no attempt to resist.

For a figure clad in green robes, slender, with streaks of white at his temples, holding aloft a nine-tiered Linglong Treasure Tower, had appeared silently three steps away from Qingyang Daoist.

He showed no smile, his expression solemn, radiating immense authority.

He spoke calmly:

“Qingyang, you stole military funds using the Five Ghosts Transporting Art and sold them to Southern Chen, betraying Great Jin.”

“The evidence is undeniable.”

“Come with me, Prince!”

A light laugh rang out; Tang Qingyan brushed back her dark bangs, her cold voice echoing: “Qingyang recently killed my Southern Chen subjects. Great Chen always upholds blood for blood, tooth for tooth.”

“This man must be transported to Jiangdu for judgment by the Demon Master.”

Dou Changsheng stepped back automatically, claiming no involvement, wishing to avoid entanglement.

But he had taken only one step when a hand clamped down on his shoulder; a slice of watermelon landed in his palm. The elder beside him had mysteriously appeared, now munching on the freshly cut melon, his voice muffled: “Tower-Bearing Heavenly King, Liu Baiyu!”

“One of the few remaining strong warriors of the Jin imperial clan.”

“Ranked fourteenth on the Earth List, expected to break into the top ten.”

“Too bad he was born at the wrong time.”

“In previous generations, he truly possessed top-ten Earth List strength.”

But in recent years, after the new Wolf Lord ascended, he conquered the four directions, won every battle, and was hailed as the steppe’s once-in-a-millennium sovereign.

Not only is this Wolf Lord himself unmatched, but the steppe has produced countless mighty warriors, entering a golden age.

“All major tribes have been subdued, especially the extreme northern Qiangzhe , now under the Wolf Lord’s command.”

“Among them emerged two earth-shattering figures.”

With this Wolf Lord, the steppe now holds three of the top ten spots on the Earth List.

The Wolf Lord was familiar to Dou Changsheng; the other two were no strangers either—Earth List No. 1 was the Southern Chen Demon Master, No. 2 was this very Wolf Lord.

The steppe Hu Ren were the empire’s greatest enemy, and most of that threat rested on this man.

Earth List No. 2, peerless in martial arts, commanding hundreds of thousands of iron cavalry.

His power and martial prowess had reached their zenith.

The elder tossed his watermelon to the ground, sighing: “Since this Wolf Lord emerged, Heaven itself seems to favor the steppe.”

The warriors of the Polar Regions formed their own isolated system, never interacting with the outside world—yet now one of their great sages, carrying a wooden staff, entered the royal court and became the Khan’s national teacher.

They then summoned the Shamans to serve them, willingly leaving their mountains to enter the mortal world.

The remaining steppe warriors saw many strong ones march southward, contending with the four nations, winning more than losing.

The long-silent steppe, as if hoarding a thousand years of destiny, had finally erupted in this generation.

The elder shook his head, suddenly finding the struggle before him utterly dull.

With the steppe’s rise, its mighty warriors entered the Earthly List, naturally displacing the original slots; the Wu Lin Tower accepted all applicants without discrimination, never omitting steppe warriors from their rankings.

The consequence was stark: three of the top ten on the Earthly List were from the steppe.

The remaining four major nations and numerous smaller states divided the other seven slots.

“The steppe has risen, yet Great Jin remains mired in internal strife.”

“The generals and ministers are at odds.”

“This world!”

The rest of his words went unsaid, yet the meaning was unmistakable.

Great Jin has no foreign enemies; given its size, nothing serious should happen—perhaps only temporary turmoil—but that Wolf Lord is no guard dog.

He is a wolf.

A wolf that can never be full.

He has remained still for years, but the moment he moves, it will shake heaven and earth, striking terror across the land.

Wang Tianhe sighed repeatedly; Yu Yun’s voluntary imprisonment had not quelled the conflict, but instead pushed it to new heights.

The hearts of the northern people were in turmoil, no longer loyal to the imperial court; one misstep, and the north would rebel against Jin. Recalling Wang Tieqiang’s words—three days to encircle Daliang, ten days to conquer Liang territory, then seize the capital—sent chills down his spine.

Yu Yun’s adopted son, a high-ranking Mufu official and imperial general, had spoken such words; the attitudes of other northern masters were plain to see.

Excluding the north, branding them as barbarians—this poison had borne fruit. The north no longer wished to play along, no longer bowed its head to beg for recognition; it now demanded to speak with blades.

The north has produced a flood of mighty warriors, claiming five of the Earthly List’s top ten spots.

That already accounts for nearly one-third of Great Jin’s total.

Military strength and wealth are utterly disproportionate; resentment simmers throughout the north.

The south is wealthy, its riches within easy reach—why risk death fighting the Hu Ren?

The late emperor’s sudden death delayed resolution of the northern problem, day after day postponed, until it became a fatal tumor.

But none of this concerns me.

As long as the Wang clan stands firm, that is enough.

Do more, make more mistakes; do less, make fewer mistakes.

My elder brother, back then, failed to see the folly of meddling in this mess—and so he died.

The Wang clan is the Wang clan; Xiangzhou is Xiangzhou.

If worse comes to worst, we can flee south—the Demon Master will bear the burden!

When heaven falls, the tall ones hold it up.

Wang Tianhe raised his eyes, watching the standoff between Liu Baiyu and Tang Qingyan, then the hidden glances watching from the shadows, and finally gave a slight push to Dou Changsheng: “The Three Yang Divine Lord is a wonder of heaven and earth.”

“The Qingyang Secret Art he created is meant to benefit all living beings.”

“This man, surnamed Dou, named Changsheng, is the chosen heir of the Qingyang Secret Art.”

“Why not teach it to Dou Changsheng, then let him reveal it publicly, bringing blessings to all under heaven? Would that not be beautiful?”

Liu Baiyu looked up at Wang Tianhe and snorted coldly—this Nine Heavens Cloud Crane was nothing like his brother. He was a master at appeasing, at playing the fool.

Liu Baiyu fixed his gaze on the Qingyang Daoist: “Don’t think silence means nothing will happen.”

“You spread rumors against the Emperor, conspired with Southern Chen.”

“These are grave crimes.”

“We have ways to make you speak.”

The Qingyang Daoist stared at Liu Baiyu with a desperate cry—he knew it was true.

In the past, they hadn’t done this because they feared the Three Yang Divine Lord, and because the value of Regenerative Mysterious Water didn’t justify the immense cost of searching his memories.

Soul-searching techniques carry a tremendous cost.

But now, Regenerative Mysterious Water has reached such value.

Even with the Three Yang Divine Lord here, they dare say this.

In less than an hour, the Qingyang Daoist experienced the ecstasy of ascending to heaven, then the despair of falling into hell.

The Qingyang Daoist’s gaze turned to Dou Changsheng, his eyes filled with hatred—this man had plunged him into utter ruin, leaving no chance of redemption.

Had Dou Changsheng never appeared, he would never have conceived the idea of using him; had Dou Changsheng never fed him Regenerative Mysterious Water, the greatest secret of the water would never have been exposed.

The root of it all—every single thing—was Dou Changsheng.

The Qingyang Daoist closed his eyes, then opened them again; his gaze had calmed, and he spoke quietly: “I will teach him the Qingyang Secret Art.”

“How to condense Regenerative Mysterious Water!”

Soul-searching carries a heavy cost—but if each of these factions contributes a little, the burden becomes negligible.

Wang Tianhe spoke calmly: “Say it here.”

“Everyone here is respected and venerable—they won’t eavesdrop.”

To speak privately? Impossible.

Wang Tianhe wanted it made public—he did not wish to monopolize and become the target of all.

By letting Dou Changsheng be the vessel to spread it across the land, he would bestow grace upon all under heaven, gaining fame.

If he tried to sneak it privately, he’d end up losing everything—trying to steal a chicken and losing his whole basket.