“It really worked!!”
Those were the first words Chen Youzai uttered upon opening his eyes.
He had truly transformed.
Did the most handsome man in the world actually exist?
Shock warred with unease. If the most handsome existed… then surely the ugliest did as well?
No. Not necessarily.
He steadied himself, eager to see his reflection.
But instead—
Blazing sun scorched the heavens like a furnace. The air shimmered over a barren plateau. Withered grass lay everywhere; stones and sand stretched endlessly. Scattered figures stood nearby, clad in tattered rags, clutching crude wooden staffs. Each looked skeletal, gaunt as corpses.
Pity rose in his heart.
How miserable.
Then he looked down at himself.
The pity vanished.
Around his neck hung a heavy wooden cangue—the infamous prisoner’s yoke. His hands were locked tight; he could barely move. Iron shackles bound his ankles.
Had he transmigrated into a criminal?
In the next instant, his stomach twisted violently, as though sliced by blades.
How many days had it been since this body had eaten?
He whimpered weakly.
No. I can’t endure even a second of this! I must change back! Handsome or not, who would come admire me in this desolate wasteland?
He reached for the coin—
And froze.
His hands could not move.
Panic surged.
Call for help? No one else could see the coin. And he was a prisoner—who would heed him?
Sweat drenched him. Dizziness blurred his vision.
Then—
A tremendous force struck him from behind.
He crashed to the ground among jagged stones and brittle roots. Stars exploded before his eyes.
“Get up! Stop dawdling!”
The roar snapped him awake.
He turned, trembling.
A burly man with the build of a tiger and bear loomed behind him, whip in hand. Before Chen Youzai could react, the whip lashed down.
“Wah—!”
He tried to howl in pain, but weakness reduced it to pitiful whimpers.
At home, no matter how angry his mother grew, she had only ever slapped him. He had never known such raw, merciless agony.
His sobs stirred no mercy.
The whip rose again.
“I’ll get up! Big brother, I’ll get up! Please—don’t hit me!”
Struggling to his feet, he barely steadied himself before a kick from behind sent him stumbling again.
He dared not protest.
In this unknown place, a single wrong word might cost him his life.
Futile Devices Scans 
Leave a comment