Lightning and Chicken Legs

"Just as expected of Xuanzi. Useless at everything, never full from eating, and he actually got played by a Soul King."

Chen Xuan walked down the street with his phone in hand, his eyes fixed on the screen displaying the Douluo Continent animated series.

He had happened to reach the part where Xuanzi was being run circles around by a Soul King.

He opened his mouth, wanting to curse, but found there was nothing left to curse. In the end, he was so angry he laughed.

"Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable." He shook his head helplessly.

"A level ninety-eight Super Douluo, an elder of the Sea God Pavilion, getting toyed with by a Soul King like this... Third Young Master must have a grudge against Xuanzi, right?"

He had followed this anime for so long that the more he watched Taotie Douluo Xuanzi, the more speechless he became.

A level ninety-eight top-tier powerhouse—when it came to strength, there were only a handful across the entire Douluo Continent who could suppress him.

And yet? He always dropped the ball when it mattered most.

He failed to act when he should have, then charged blindly when he should not have.

At least half of the suffering Huo Yuhao and Wang Dong'er endured could be blamed on that old bastard.

He watched as he walked, sighing as he watched.

"Third Young Master is an idiot too. He wanted to write Xuanzi as some kind of old rogue, but he never stopped to consider whether he had the writing skill for it.

He wrote this thing that was neither human nor ghost. Call him an elder, and he had none of an elder's responsibility.

Call him comic relief, and he was not funny in the slightest.

If you can't write him well, then don't write him at all. What a damn waste of a level ninety-eight setup."

The blue light from his phone screen shone over his young face. His eyes were sore, but he still could not bear to turn it off.

Passersby occasionally gave him strange looks, but he did not care.

"Forget it. I'll finish this part first... Let's see just how much more ridiculous this Xuanzi can get..."

He muttered under his breath, swiping at the screen.

The sky had darkened somewhat, and the faint rumble of distant thunder seemed to drift over.

He looked up at the sky. Dark clouds hung low, as though rain was about to fall.

"Damn, is it going to rain?"

He quickened his pace, but his eyes remained glued to the screen. The plot on his phone had reached a critical moment, and he could not bear to pause it.

Then a flash of white split the darkness.

The bolt of lightning came without warning, striking him squarely.

His entire body felt as though something had yanked him up from the ground before violently hurling him into an abyss.

An intense sensation of weightlessness swept through him. He did not even have time to cry out before his consciousness completely scattered.

He did not know how long passed before he woke up.

There was no pain, nor any numbness.

He simply felt incredibly heavy, as if he had slept for a very, very long time—so long that even his bones had rusted.

He slowly opened his eyes.

What met his gaze was a grayish-white dome carved with old, unrefined patterns.

The air carried the damp scent of lake water, mixed with a faint fragrance of oil.

Birdsong drifted in from outside the window, distant enough that it seemed to have floated in from another world.

Instinctively, he tried to raise a hand and rub his head.

Then he froze.

That hand was huge, its joints thick and hard, its knuckles protruding, its palm covered in a thick layer of calluses.

The skin on its back was visibly loose, bluish veins faintly bulging beneath it like stones wrapped in old tree bark.

His eyes widened as he turned the hand over and over.

"Is... this my hand?"

The voice that came from his mouth was hoarse and deep, like a worn-out bellows.

His heart skipped a beat, and he hurriedly reached up to touch his face.

His fingers met rough skin. It was no longer smooth and firm, but loose and coarse, lined with age.

Stiff stubble pricked his chin. His cheekbones were high, his brow ridge prominent, and the outline of his whole face was deep and hard, like an old rock weathered by wind and sand.

He abruptly sat up, his voice cracking as he shouted:

"Fuck! How did I turn into an old man?!"

The moment the words left his mouth, he suddenly felt something inside it.

It was soft, cool, and carried a greasy, savory aroma.

He instinctively bit down.

The thing was crushed between his teeth, and the fragrance of meat and oil spread through his mouth.

He reached up and pulled half a chicken leg from his mouth.

It was greasy, marked with clear bite prints. Some dust of unknown origin clung to the chicken skin.

He stared at the chicken leg in his hand, then at his five glistening, oily fingers, completely dumbfounded.

"Fuck! I've got a chicken leg in my mouth too? What the hell is going on?!"

Just then, it felt as though someone had smashed his head with a hammer.

Buzz.

A massive flood of memories that did not belong to him surged into his mind.

Sea God Pavilion, Shrek Academy, the Godly Taotie Bull martial soul, a level ninety-eight Titled Douluo, elder, Mu En, Sea God Lake, the Inquisitorial Legion.

And one name.

Xuanzi.

The moment that name crossed his mind, his whole body went still.

The memories told him that he was now Xuanzi.

An elder of the Sea God Pavilion, Taotie Douluo, a level ninety-eight Ultimate Douluo, an old powerhouse nearing two hundred years of age.

He sat there in a daze for a long time. His mouth opened and closed before he finally forced out a sentence:

"I transmigrated into Chicken Leg Douluo?"

A top-tier level ninety-eight powerhouse had somehow become a joke in the readers' eyes.

He always dropped the ball at crucial moments, got muddled in the face of the bigger picture, and was even toyed with by a Soul King.

His mind buzzed as he remembered the line he had cursed at the screen before being struck by lightning.

"Just as expected of Xuanzi, that useless idiot who can't do anything right and never has enough to eat. He actually got played by a Soul King."

And there was that other line.

"Third Young Master is an idiot too, writing this thing that's neither human nor ghost."

Well, now he had become that "thing that was neither human nor ghost."

He was so angry that his eyes rolled back, and he wanted nothing more than to slap himself twice.

"I only cursed Xuanzi a few times. It wasn't enough to get struck by heavenly lightning, was it?!"

But just as disgust filled his heart, the corner of his eye caught sight of his body.

He lowered his head and froze.

He wore a dark elder's robe. The material was nothing special, but it had been washed spotlessly clean.

The collar was crisp, the cuffs neat, and there were no obvious oil stains on the front of the robe.

Though his hands were oily, his body was not dirty. He had a beard, and his hair was messy, but he was nowhere near as slovenly and greasy as he had expected.

He subconsciously touched his face again.

It was rough, but clean.

He gradually calmed down, his mind racing.

Something was wrong.

In the original story, Xuanzi had not truly become that greasy, slovenly wreck of a man until after something happened to Zhang Lexuan and the other twelve inner courtyard disciples.

That catastrophe had ripped out Xuanzi's backbone. Only after that did he begin to give up on himself, becoming the "Chicken Leg Douluo" Huo Yuhao first met.

But now, he had not yet fallen apart.

Zhang Lexuan was still safe.

He abruptly straightened up, closed his eyes, and steadied himself as he searched through the memories in his mind.

As he searched, his breathing suddenly stopped.

Mu En's grandson and the young couple of the Radiant Holy Dragon lineage were actually still alive.

The wife was pregnant and had not yet given birth. The husband was still in Shrek City, safe and sound.

Beibei had not been born yet.

He stood stunned for a long while.

Then an indescribable ecstasy shot straight from his spine to the top of his head.

He leaped out of bed, his bare feet landing on the cool floor as he walked to the window.

Sea God Lake shattered into scales of gold beneath the morning light. The lake breeze, heavy with moisture, rushed over him and tossed his beard and hair wildly.

"I came early." His voice was terribly hoarse, but the corners of his mouth could not stop lifting.