Heaven's Tyrant

We stood at the edge of the clearing. Blood clung to my boots. Smoke curled in the air behind us, rising like a funeral pyre for the poor bastards Master vaporized.

It had been two days since I transmigrated into this xianxia world.

Master told me to rest, said I needed time to adjust to the flow of Qi and the strain on my meridians. So I did—for all of two days. Honestly, considering how weird my body felt—like a balloon pumped with someone else's breath—I didn't argue.

But rest never lasted long around him.

The moment I could stand without swaying, we left the cabin behind. Not long after, we stumbled upon the bandits' hidden base tucked deep in the forest.

They were truly enjoying themselves—oblivious.

They didn't even realize they were supposed to be on high alert.

Not a single one on lookout.

Too busy drinking and gambling, acting like they'd already won. No one checked if their boss returned. No one wondered whether the ambush succeeded.

They wasted their luck.

So they never had a chance.

They didn't get to scream.

While Master tore through the place like a blade through silk—leaving corpses and scorched earth in his wake—I scavenged what I could from the wreckage. Coins, talismans, robes, anything not nailed down or actively smoldering.

By the time he was finished, I'd changed into something cleaner. Loose robes—light and easy to move in. But still too formal. Too noble. Too much of the person I used to be.

I wasn't a young master anymore, and the image of Tianyu's fine upbringing clung to me like dead skin.

I needed something simpler. More practical.

But this was the only intact men's outfit I could find. The rest were women's clothes—and while I wasn't above crossdressing to survive, these weren't even sexy. 

Just plain and frilly.

And, of course, Master had told me not to touch anything from the Li Clan's caravans. Even if they were mine originally. Well, Tianyu's. Said he needed them intact, untouched, to sell the story that bandits were to blame.

So complicated.

That left me with one option. Well, not really, I just wanted to.

I cut my hair.

Tianyu's long, glossy mane—the pride of some hundred rounds of expensive shampooing and the sighs of half the inner sect—gone in a few strokes of a bandit's dull knife. I'd never cut hair before. I was a software engineer, not a stylist. But somehow, it came out perfect. Straight lines, clean angles. Wrong tool, weirdly precise result.

It wasn't skill. It was Tianyu's muscle memory—steady hands that once held brushes and blades with equal grace.

It was scary.

Still, it worked.

When Master saw it, he frowned. The faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Weird hairstyle."

"I'll take weird over choking on my own braid."

"Waste of good bloodline hair."

"Master, we literally used a corpse to fake my death. I think a haircut's the least horrifying thing I've done today."

Master paused for a heartbeat before smirking in amusement.

"…True."

He crouched beside the body he'd picked, parting its chest like a butcher carving meat. His fingers dipped in crimson, joints sliding between bones like it was second nature. No flinch. No pause. Just work.

"Did you pick him randomly?"

"Hardly," Master replied, clearly insulted. "This bastard' build was the same as yours. Same height. Same skin tone. Long hair. He's perfect. With memory seals and blood catalysts, no one will question it."

I swallowed. The smell of old blood was getting to me again.

"Damn… You're thorough."

"Even I was surprised to find a bandit that matched you so well. Almost eerie. I took it as a sign."

"…Right."

A sign, huh?

Sure. Either a sign from heaven... or from whatever cruel algorithm dumped me in this world.

I watched as Master moved his hands through the corpse like he was sculpting clay. Fingers slick with blood, knuckles deep in someone's ruined chest cavity, muttering incantations that made the air ripple.

It was a strange thing, using a corpse to replace me.

But this world didn't bend to sentiment.

It was built on necessity. Brutal equations. Clean paths that bled the most.

Pragmatism sharp enough to slice your throat just to save your hand.

If I wanted to survive here—

If I wanted power—

Then the choice wasn't a choice at all.

I had to die.

Tianyu had to die.

Man, xianxia world is so confusing.

I still couldn't understand and understand the logic.

And maybe I never would.

The air vibrated. A low hum pressed against my ears like a descending pressure wave. Spiritual energy swirled.

The corpse twitched.

"And… done."

Then it changed.

Bruises bloomed. Hair shifted. A small scar formed under the jaw—the one I got as a kid chasing sword kites across the courtyard.

It was me.

Or… the version of Tianyu I had to bury.

The detail was horrifying. Exact. I had seen CGI less convincing.

Fuck…This was so disturbing…

Master wiped his hands on a rag that disintegrated into ash the moment it touched blood.

If someone dragged this to the Li Clan estate, the elders would cry and compose poetry about it.

They'd mourn me.

They'd bury and let me go.

Master examined the corpse like a craftsman admiring his latest work.

"No resistance. Weak spirit vein. No imprint strong enough to fight the overwrite. And thanks to the lingering spiritual chaos from our battle, no one will notice the inconsistencies. They'll believe you died burning your Qi in defense."

I frowned.

"So you're faking that too."

"Of course. A heroic death earns sympathy. Makes people more likely to stop looking."

"…..Damn."

"And now, for the final touch."

Without warning, Master struck the corpse's face. One sharp, brutal hit.

Bone cracked. Flesh folded. Nose flattened. Jaw shattered. Cheek split open like overripe fruit. Exactly the same damage Ma Hong had done to me in that ambush.

"Fuck!"

I gagged, turned away, spit the bitterness rising in my throat.

"So delicate."

Master's voice was calm. Almost indulgent. He didn't even glance at the gore.

"… That's uncanny and very disturbing."

"You'll get used to it."

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and forced myself to look again.

"I'm not squeamish. I'm just not used to seeing my own face smashed like a piñata."

"Better than seeing your real face found still breathing."

"Fair."

"And… piñata? What is that?"

"Don't worry about it. Just some gibberish."

He didn't press. Thank the stars. I hadn't told him I came from another world. Wasn't planning to.

The corpse—my corpse—looked flawless. The resemblance wasn't just accurate. It was complete. Every curve, every scar, even the spiritual signature.

It didn't just look like Tianyu.

It was Tianyu.

The version I had to let die.

Master nodded, pleased with himself.

"Even soul-sense won't question it. You're free."

I wasn't sure if I wanted to laugh or cry.

"Master, cultivators like you do this sort of thing often?"

He gave me a sidelong glance.

"Li Clan must've pampered you more than I thought. This is nothing. You'll be doing the same soon enough."

"Ugh…"

Which part, I wondered silently—crushing skulls or staging deaths?

Master turned without answering, robes swaying behind him with that effortless grace all cultivators seemed born with. He strode into the forest like the world would simply part for him. I cast one last glance at the corpse—the flattened face, the scorched robes, the blood-matted chest.

My corpse.

Tianyu's corpse.

My past pinned inside another man's flesh and left to rot beneath pine and shadow.

Good riddance.

I followed him, boots crackling over leaves and dried blood. The trees thickened with every step. Light narrowed into slivers above.

I could breathe again.

I could finally think.

"It's only a matter of time before people from the Li Clan—or one of their allies—comes sniffing around."

"Right. So where are we going?"

"The nearest city. Yuancheng."

Yuancheng.

That name stirred something buried in Tianyu's memories.

He—no, I—was supposed to head there anyway, delivering goods to Jade Moon Sect. A convenient coincidence, or fate being lazy.

"A lively city. Just large enough to disappear in."

"Great. Sounds wholesome."

"We won't enter it yet. There's an abandoned talisman workshop near the western ridge. Remote. Structurally intact."

"And after that?"

"We begin your training."

Finally. The word sent a tingle through my bones. But whatever anticipation I had vanished at his next sentence.

"I'll also fetch you some girls."

I stopped walking.

"…What?"

Master kept walking, voice drifting like wind through leaves.

"You heard me. I'll get some girls for you."

"For what, sparring?"

He chuckled, amused.

"Sparring? You're still too weak for that. No. It's for dual cultivation. The technique I plan to teach requires regular absorption of yin essence. Your body's in the right condition for it."

My pants tightened right away. Okay, that's cool—training and sex, hell yeah. And my own master, bringing girls like a mother bird dropping worms in the nest. Damn it, Master.

Keep this up, and I'm gonna start calling you, Daddy Master.

 "...So I'll be sleeping with women?"

"Oh yes. Plenty of them."

"Wow..."

"They're yours to use. Drain them, break them—until they're no longer useful."

The blood drained from my face. My cock, which had been cheerfully knocking at my waistband like a hungry dog, retreated in shame in shame.

"Wait—Master. Are you saying—"

"It's the most efficient method. No distractions. No waiting. The fastest way to gather essence. Once you've collected enough, I'll teach you the Dragon Root Cauldron Path."

I stopped breathing. My feet refused to move. The words echoed like thunder inside my skull.

"You're… you're serious."

Master turned, raising an eyebrow as if I were the one who had lost his mind.

"I said it plainly. You'll need to rape them. Or would you rather waste years chasing weak beasts for scraps of Qi?"

My mouth felt dry. I forced myself to speak, voice brittle.

"No. That's not acceptable. That's not—how can you think that's okay?"

He looked at me like I was speaking another language.

"Why not? It's efficient. Minimal risk. The women live. The essence transfers. You get stronger. What's the issue?"

"The issue is its wrong!"

"Wrong?" He tilted his head, baffled. "You think killing beasts is better? Slaughtering? Maiming? You think there's honor in bleeding in a ditch just to advance half a stage?"

I clenched my fists. My vision swam with a dozen emotions at once—rage, nausea, disbelief.

"I'd rather sleep with someone who wants me. Someone I actually like."

He studied me. Not angry. More like a father watching his son throw a tantrum because he didn't want to eat his vegetables.

"Ah, you mean consensual union?"

"Yes! Exactly!"

I wanted slow sex.

Vanilla. Classic. Beloved. The missionary-position, lights-dimmed, breathy-moan, giggly-afterglow kind of sex. Passionate. Sloppy.

Maybe a little biting if the mood was right.

Not this nightmare fuel where I was dead-eyed and pumping into some crying woman like a meat grinder for Qi.

Not rapey! Never rapey!

Just imagining myself ripping the clothes off a girl while she was sobbing and begging, then just… using her and cumming inside her—That was damn wrong.

That wasn't me. That wasn't Tianyu.

That'd never be me.

I was horny, sure—there was blood in my pants half the time—but I wasn't a goddamn predator.

Seriously, how the hell could people enjoy that?

How messed up did you have to be to get hard from ruining someone?

Cultivation world or not, that was a therapy-inducing fetish dressed up as a technique.

From what Master said, he only did it because it was efficient—not because he was horny.

Which, in a very twisted way, was better than him being some rapist.

Well, that was good, I guessed? I mean—no. That was still bad. So bad. What the fuck, world?!

He folded his arms, thoughtful.

"Hm. You could. But it's terribly inefficient. Emotional bonds dilute the essence transfer. Worse, you hesitate. Care too much. Grow attached. Grow weak. And that... gets you killed."

"I don't care," I snapped. "If the price of strength is becoming a monster, I'd rather stay weak."

He didn't flinch. Didn't argue. Just nodded.

"…Interesting."

"What now?"

"You remind me of someone I once knew."

"Let me guess. They died horribly."

"Oh, yes. Screaming."

"…Great."

We walked on.

The silence between us was louder than any shouting. I tried to push the sickness from my thoughts, to focus on the trail ahead. Then, just as the branches thinned and sunlight touched the path again—

"Very well. We'll try it your way. Show me you can grow strong without compromise."

"I will."

"Hmmm."

"Watch me, Master. I will show I will get stronger in my way."

"I'll be watching."

"Please don't. I don't mean that way!"

"Too late."

His back receded ahead of me, the woods parting as though they feared to hinder him. Every step forward sank heavier into my chest.

My heart thudded in rhythm with my footsteps.

My thoughts spiraled.

What kind of world was this?

This wasn't just about growing stronger. This place didn't merely demand power.

It demanded transformation.

Piece by piece.

Choice by choice.

And if I wasn't careful… I'd become something else entirely.

Something I wouldn't recognize.

Something I wouldn't be able to come back from.

And worse—

Maybe I'd become just like him.