The Betrayal of Brothers

Not long after, the tavern gradually fell silent. The light dimmed as several figures loomed over Yuan Xing.

He looked up and saw that aside from the table he was sitting at, there wasn’t a single intact piece of wood left in the entire building. Bodies lay strewn across the floor; the room was a scene of utter ruin.

The only three people still standing were drenched in blood, panting heavily. They stumbled toward Yuan Xing, supporting one another.

“Good… good. Now it’s just us three brothers. You… you’ll come with us, right?” The one in front gasped out the words, his breath hitching.

“Oh?”

Yuan Xing’s gaze swept across their faces. He let out a faint sigh and shook his head. “The Morning and Evening Dew only yields three fruits. There are already three of you. When the time comes, will there be anything left for me?”

“Of… of course.” The three exchanged glances. The burly leader laughed heartily, though it sounded strained. “I’m the eldest and the strongest. I don’t strictly need the dew for my current bottleneck. Those three fruits can go to my two brothers and you.”

“Heh.” Yuan Xing smiled faintly and shook his head. “Since only two of you need the dew, the one who doesn’t need it shouldn’t be involved at all, right?”

“Hey, what do you mean by that?” The second man, sharp-faced and scrawny, screeched as he raised a hand. “Are you trying to sow discord among brothers? Believe me, I can crush you with one slap!”

“Ah, Second Brother, don’t get angry.” The third man, who looked refined and scholarly, quickly stepped in to stop him. He turned to Yuan Xing, smiled, and clasped his hands. “Little brother, when we three swore our brotherhood, we vowed to die in the same year, not to live separately. We advance and retreat together in all things. It’s impossible for us to abandon each other over such a small matter.”

“That’s right.” The eldest patted his chest. “We may not be blood brothers, but we are closer than kin. We cannot be separated.”

“In that case, I’ll have to find someone else,” Yuan Xing sighed, leaning back.

“How dare you!” the scholarly brother shouted. “If you don’t cooperate with us, death is your only path.”

“Exactly. Since you refuse to be used by us, we’ll have to kill you so you don’t help others and cause us trouble,” the eldest added, nodding in agreement.

“Yes, we three brothers will never let you create even a shred of discord among us,” the second brother said quietly.

“Then there’s no other way.” Yuan Xing shrugged indifferently. “If I’m going to die anyway, sooner is better. Go ahead.”

“Then die!”

The scholarly brother roared, rushing forward and raising his palm to strike Yuan Xing.

Shing!

Just as his palm was a foot from Yuan Xing’s face, he stopped abruptly. His eyes widened. He looked down to see a sword tip protruding from his stomach, blood gushing out.

He had been run through from behind.

He turned his head with difficulty, following the line of the blade, and saw that the one holding the sword was none other than the second brother.

“Second Brother… what… what are you doing?” The eldest was stunned for a moment before he came to his senses and bellowed.

“Ah, I… I meant to kill that brat Yuan Xing, but Third Brother suddenly jumped in front! I couldn’t stop in time, so… ah, it’s all my fault!” The second brother’s face was full of panic. He hastily dropped the sword, caught the lifeless scholarly brother as he fell, and tears began to stream from his eyes.

“You…” The eldest’s burly frame trembled with rage. But since the deed was done, regret was useless. He wiped the hot tears from the corners of his eyes and sighed. “In that case, Third Brother’s death cannot be in vain. We must obtain the Morning and Evening Dew.”

“It’s all my fault. I don’t want the dew anymore,” the second brother wept, his head buried against the corpse in his arms. “You take one fruit, and the last one… we’ll offer it at Third Brother’s grave.”

“Ah…” The eldest sighed deeply, then looked at Yuan Xing. “Now then, you can’t complain about the numbers anymore, can you?”

Yuan Xing nodded impassively. “Of course. Once you’ve settled things here, we can set off.”

The eldest turned around and walked toward the second brother, who was still weeping bitterly. He reached out and patted him on the shoulder. “Second Brother, mourn in—”

Before he could finish, he stopped. His eyes flew wide open, and he stumbled back several steps. When he looked down, a dagger was buried deep in his stomach.

The “weeping” second brother had stopped crying. He raised his head, his face devoid of grief, wearing only a cold sneer.

“Second Brother… you…” The eldest’s face twisted in pain as he stared at him.

“Heh.” The second brother flung the corpse in his arms to the ground like trash, stood up, and sneered. “Big Brother, go keep Third Brother company.”

“You… you…” The eldest pointed a shaking finger at him, his voice faltering. But then, he suddenly laughed, the pain vanishing from his face. “Do you really think such a clumsy trick could kill me?”

As he spoke, the eldest straightened his back and casually pulled the dagger from his stomach. There was no wound beneath his clothes.

“Impossible!” The second brother’s face changed dramatically.

“At our level, if we are on guard, how could a mere dagger harm us? But you…” The eldest looked at him, his usually honest face now twisted into a despicable expression. “It’s your turn, isn’t it?”

Before he finished speaking, the second brother felt a burning sensation on his shoulder. He looked down to see a bright red stain spreading rapidly across his skin, blackening his veins.

“When you patted my shoulder…” The second brother realized too late. He tried to speak, but a gush of blood sprayed from his mouth. His body shuddered, and he fell to the ground, dead before he hit the floor.

“Ah, this…” Yuan Xing widened his eyes, acting utterly shocked by the spectacle.

“Don’t be so surprised. Isn’t it better to have fewer people to share the dew?” The eldest looked at Yuan Xing with a cold smile. “Still the same agreement: two fruits for me, one for you. If you have no objections, let’s go.”

****

This was the Eight Desolates. A lawless, cruel, and bloodthirsty world.

Looking at the cold corpses and the eldest’s sneer, Yuan Xing’s thoughts drifted back to his life before transmigration.

Back then, he was at home, staying up all night playing an immensely popular cultivation game. When he finally achieved the “One Hundred Dao Companions” achievement, he had smiled contentedly. Yawning, he had scrolled through the histories of those companions—only for his drowsiness to vanish instantly.

Most of those companions had led “chaotic” lives behind his back. He felt as if a vast green grassland had sprouted on his head.

Thankfully, it was just a game; otherwise, he would have coughed up blood from pure rage. But even so, he was resentful, swinging to the opposite extreme of logic.

‘Too fake. If everyone is cultivating to seek immortality, how could they still have such petty desires? If they could live forever and still have offspring, wouldn’t the world be crammed full of immortals?’

‘Fengling Ancestor thinks you are absolutely right.’

In a daze, a voice had suddenly sounded in his mind. Then, everything went black.

When he woke again, he had transmigrated into this world called the Eight Desolates. At the same time, a set of truths appeared in his mind, making him realize that this world was exactly what he had asked for—and entirely different from the game.