Chapter Two: The Ill-Fated Second Brother Ye

The Flame Giant had not even used his demonic power; his roar alone was enough to shatter some of the demon beasts into pieces. Yet, Ye Feng remained completely unscathed. The instant the shockwave from the Flame Giant's bellow neared him, a faint purple light rose from Ye Feng’s chest, absorbing all the terrifying energy within it.

Surrounded by such a horrifying aura, Ye Feng forced himself to appear calm, though his back was drenched in sweat. He cast a faint, sweeping glance over the trembling demon beasts and finally fixed his gaze on the Flame Giant.

“Little Fire Wolf, are you trying to challenge me? After a thousand years, you’re still as useless as ever…” Though the voice was somewhat youthful, it brimmed with authority.

As he spoke, Ye Feng’s body radiated a rich purple glow—and the aura of the Dragon Serpent Demon King’s core.

The Flame Giant’s excitement vanished at those words, replaced by an expression full of grievance and awe. He obediently stepped back, lowered his proud head, and knelt on one knee in submission.

“My King! Xiao Wu has missed you so much. Do you know how much we have suffered, how many hardships we’ve endured in your thousand-year absence…” The beautiful, fairy-like woman’s eyes shimmered with tears as she began to complain in a soft, mournful voice.

Though she appeared delicate and pitiable, her every cry was laced with a powerful charm. Even some of the seventh and eighth-ranked demon beasts stood up involuntarily.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

But in the next instant, all those restless demon beasts who had stood up exploded without exception.

This time, neither the purple light nor the demon king’s aura appeared. Ye Feng simply stood there with a cold expression, utterly unaffected.

“Charm, is it? Compared to the last fox tribe demon king, you’re far inferior.” His voice was as calm and unfathomable as ever.

“Hmph! Taking on human form, have you also learned their hypocrisy?” The last to speak was a middle-aged man with a single horn on his head, his face showing a hint of anger.

At his words, the other two glared at him in displeasure. The Flame Giant roared, “Black Eel, it’s easy for you to talk! You’ve ruled the demon tribes for a thousand years in the King’s stead—aren’t you ready to relinquish power?”

“Exactly! For the coming millennium, who leads the demon tribes should be up to the King!” The beautiful woman chimed in, her enchanting eyes fixed dreamily on Ye Feng—an unmistakable attempt at seduction.

Before the two could continue arguing, Ye Feng took a step forward. Having held one pose for too long, even his gait seemed a bit unsteady—though the real reason was known only to himself.

Seeing this, the three rare demon kings grew tense. The King’s choice would decide whether they would continue to endure humiliation or finally rise in glory for the coming millennia.

Ye Feng slowly raised his head, a glimmer of light in his eyes as he spoke, “If the demon tribes were left in your hands, I fear that in a hundred years not a trace would remain.”

“Roar! Whoever dares to challenge us, I’ll eat them alive!”

“Beloved King, Xiao Wu swears to defend the demon tribes to the death…”

The Flame Giant and the alluring woman spoke at once, but their voices faltered as they looked at Ye Feng, then in perfect unison turned to glance at the single-horned man.

Someone smirked to himself, dark and sly. He didn’t actually know how strong the single-horned man was, but to have earned the Dragon Serpent Demon King’s favor and ruled for a thousand years, he must possess considerable power—otherwise, he wouldn’t have survived this long.

“Indeed! A thousand years ago, thanks to the King’s guidance, I was fortunate enough to break through.” The horned man glanced at the others, then let out a raspy hiss to show his submission—a unique sign of fealty among the serpent tribe.

“On the path of cultivation, one must seek true understanding of the heart. If you two surpass him within a thousand years, the title of Demon King is yours for the taking.” With these words, Ye Feng turned away with effortless grace.

“So profound! This is the one and only King! He doesn’t even bother flying—he walks, step by step, to comprehend his own heart!” The Flame Giant’s eyes sparkled with adoration at Ye Feng’s departing figure.

Up ahead, Ye Feng nearly stumbled upon hearing this, barely catching himself from falling.

“He doesn’t even avoid obstacles at his feet; even if he falls, he’ll stand up again, ruling the heavens…” The alluring woman was close to tears. This was their King, so unique, so different from the rest.

...

Walking through the muddy primeval forest, Ye Feng no longer carried the air of mysterious profundity from moments before. His face was smeared with dirt, and he looked back every few steps, afraid that the three demon kings might suddenly pursue him.

After walking for quite a while, Ye Feng’s pounding heart finally began to settle. With the demon king’s core, he could travel safely back to the human world.

“Damn it, I’ve only been in this world for three months, and I’ve already been ambushed three times! Who on earth is plotting against me?” Ye Feng was baffled.

He was not of this world. He came from Earth—a killer by profession.

In his previous life, after a failed mission, he was consumed by fire. He thought death would mean endless darkness, but it turned out to be nothing more than a fleeting transition. When his consciousness returned, he lived again.

Only somehow, he found himself in this world, inhabiting the body of a taciturn, dull-witted young master.

When he realized that almost no one in his family cared to look him in the eye, he chose to remain silent.

Because in this world, there was something that fascinated him to obsession: cultivation.

But fate was not kind. He was ambushed again and again, leaving him utterly perplexed. At the same time, it only strengthened his resolve to grow stronger.

As he walked, Ye Feng carefully recalled each incident.

The first time: a wall collapsed without warning. If he hadn’t already begun cultivating and formed three spirit tattoos, he would have been crushed to death.

The second time was even stranger—a stray arrow shot down from the sky. Fortunately, by then he had five spirit tattoos, his body had been tempered, and the arrow only lodged in his flesh, causing no real harm.

But this time… he had been thrown straight into a demon king’s tomb.

He was speechless. This was killing a chicken with a butcher’s knife—giving him no chance to survive.

By rights, he was nothing more than a dull-witted good-for-nothing. The affluent Ye family would hardly miss a mouth to feed. Yet the schemes happened anyway, perfectly executed, so subtle that even he, a professional assassin, couldn’t detect a thing.

Had it not been for his luck, he’d have died a bewildered ghost.

“But I’m still alive—and have even turned misfortune into blessing. I really want to see who’s so desperate to see me dead!”