Golden light. Swirling clouds. Lei Zhengyang floated in a void, weightless, his body adrift in a storm of cosmic winds. He was a leaf on a raging sea, less grounded than a speck of dust. Powerless.
Yet he'd grown used to it. Through the misty haze, he glimpsed a figure—no, not a figure, a thing. It called itself the Dragon's Avatar, the supreme ruler of this realm, wielding the primal force of the Dragon's power. The old man had spoken of it: the master of the Dragon Gold, the arbiter of this bizarre world. Here, its word was law. It alone decided the extent of his transformation.
"Not doing too bad, huh?" Lei Zhengyang muttered, his voice defiant despite his predicament. Suspended like a kite in the howling winds, breathing was a struggle, yet he hummed a cheeky tune: "Drift, drift, drift into a pile of beauties for some sweet bliss…"
The Avatar's voice boomed, shattering his reverie. It crackled with glee—or madness. "Enjoying yourself? The real fun hasn't even started."
Lei Zhengyang was no stranger to hardship. A year under the old man's brutal training had forged him into a paragon of endurance. But this Avatar? It was a sadist. It didn't just test him—it tortured him. Fire to roast him. Water to boil him. He wasn't a man in its eyes—just a plucked chicken ready for the grill.
The clouds vanished, and Lei Zhengyang plummeted, landing in a blazing furnace. "Argh!" he screamed, the searing heat overwhelming him. His vision blurred, and he passed out, his mind fleeing the unbearable reality of impending death.
But oblivion was no escape. He awoke in a place devoid of flames yet scalding hot. This bastard isn't burning me—it's baking me, he realized, cursing inwardly.
"You old freak, I'll make you pay!" Lei Zhengyang dodged and weaved, evading sparks that flew like vengeful wasps. A moment's hesitation, and they'd sear his flesh. One graze was enough to teach him: the pain was hellish.
"Heh heh heh! Don't want to be my dinner? Then dance, human! Jump for your life!" the Avatar taunted. Lei Zhengyang's response? A raised middle finger. Cursing took energy he couldn't spare. Every step, every leap, was a fight for survival. Living one more second was all that mattered.
His head throbbed. He ran. His legs burned. He ran. His body screamed for rest. Still, he ran.
Around the furnace's base, he circled endlessly, no pause allowed. His clothes vaporized, his last shred of modesty—a pair of shorts—reduced to ash. The third young master of the Lei family, naked and sprinting for his life. Once, he'd made women bare themselves for his amusement. Now, the tables had turned.
Time blurred. Hours? Days? Years? His consciousness frayed, exhaustion numbing his senses. Just lie down and die, he thought. Death's not so bad. It's freedom. But every time he teetered on surrender, that infuriating voice snapped him back.
"Still not cooked? My stomach's growling," it mocked.
"What's that thing between your legs? For mating? It's smaller than my finger. Shall I slice it off for a snack?"
"Almost ready. By tomorrow, I'll feast on juicy human flesh."
Each taunt earned a middle finger and a burst of desperate speed. Lei Zhengyang had no strength to curse aloud, but his defiance burned hotter than the furnace. He ran until his sweat ran dry, until his body was a husk, until his mind slipped into a haze. Maybe I'm already on its plate, he thought as darkness claimed him.
He woke. Alive—thank the heavens—but submerged in water. Three sharks circled, their grins promising a gruesome end. "We're starving. Let's eat!" they seemed to say.
"Screw you!" Lei Zhengyang roared in his mind, summoning every ounce of strength. He swam, fleeing with the desperation of a cornered beast. If that Avatar stood before him, he'd smash its skull. But for now, survival was his only fight.
From the hellish training camp to this new abyss, the torment never ceased. The scenes shifted—fire, water, predators—each designed to break him. At first, he cursed. Then he grew silent, too weary even to swear. As the sharks charged, he crackedwarden his lips curled into a savage grin, cold and fearless. The Avatar had said fear was humanity's greatest demon. Conquer it, and nothing was unconquerable.
Not even these sharks.
Last time, he'd fled at the sight of them. Now? His stomach growled. It's been ages since I had sashimi. You're dinner now. Their teeth were sharp? He'd shatter them. Their tails were strong? He'd stab them. Their jaws were massive? He'd sew them shut.
That day, he cooked a pot of fresh shark sashimi, lounging on a sun-warmed beach, watching the wounded beasts wail in the surf. For the first time in forever, he savored a fleeting moment of bliss.
A sigh, unfamiliar and heavy, broke the silence. The Avatar's hazy form spoke again. "Human, it's time to go. I must admit, you've earned my approval. Now, I grant you the power you seek."
A radiant golden light, brighter than the sun, erupted like a cascade of rainbows. It wove around Lei Zhengyang, forming a shimmering halo before sinking into his body. Warmth surged through him, electric and exhilarating, coursing through every fiber of his being. It was euphoric.
"You have the physique of a warrior," the Avatar said. "But before we part, one final truth: true strength comes from within, not from external power. Young one, I wish you well."
Lei Zhengyang faltered, unused to the Avatar's sudden gentleness. He'd spent so long cursing it, but now, gratitude stirred. He opened his mouth, but no words came.
In an instant, his body, soul, and consciousness were yanked away, as if drawn by an invisible magnet. He dissolved into the wind, gone.
"He's awake!" a voice cried, familiar and warm. "General, 001 is awake!"
It was Instructor Two. The sound of a wheelchair followed, and Lei Zhengyang opened his eyes. The old man and Instructor Two stood before him, the old man's eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"You're awake," the old man said, voice thick with relief. "I thought we'd both be dust. You've gained much, I can tell. Time's short—thirty minutes to prepare. I'll send you off." His plan had succeeded. Once the Time Machine activated, Lei Zhengyang would leave, and the old man's life would change forever.
"You're leaving? Truly leaving?" Instructor Two's voice cracked as she clutched his hand, desperation in her eyes. "Can't you stay? In this timeline, you could be happy."
The old man glanced at them, then turned away, leaving them alone.
She knew 001 hailed from another timeline, a test subject for the Hell Training Camp. But she could never guess the truth: Lei Zhengyang and the General were the same man, separated by forty years.
"I'm sorry," Lei Zhengyang said softly. "I don't belong here. I have to return to my world."
Tears spilled down her cheeks. She nodded, wiping them away, then flashed a bittersweet smile, radiant and heart-wrenching. "I know. It's fate, isn't it? I promised you a gift before you go."
Before he could stop her, she shed her tight military uniform, piece by piece, until she stood bare before him. Her body was flawless, but her tear-streaked face and glistening eyes pierced his heart. There was no pain, only profound regret.
She was right. This was fate.
They were destined to part.