I woke up in this world and couldn't remember anything.
The only thing left in the haze of my mind was a fractured image. Me? I'm not sure. But I saw a man, no, a king, standing tall before a roaring crowd, his right hand lifted, palm flat, facing the ground, with a commanding expression.
There was confidence in that man's stance, courage in the way he wore his royal robes. Every time I dreamed it, I felt that man was me. Not just a guess, it was certain. And I could almost remember the name someone whispered amidst the roar. It started with… Li Wuxian.
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"Hey, Wux! You planning to stare into the fog until a bone crawler eats your face? Are you that hungry that you're offering yourself to a beast that's already full?"
The voice yanked Li Wuxian from his trance.
He turned slowly toward the familiar sound. Xi Lufeng stood there, arms crossed, his trademark grin flickering with mischief. Tall, broad-shouldered, wild black hair framing a face built for rebellion. Lufeng was the kind of man who didn't ask for respect, he dared you to deny it.
He was loud, reckless, and annoyingly optimistic in a place that devoured hope. He was also the only person in the Outland that Wuxian trusted.
"Just thinking," Wuxian muttered.
"Dangerous habit," Lufeng replied, plopping down beside him on a moss-covered log. Around them, the Outland pulsed with distant growls, hissing wind, and the dull clang of crude tools striking stone.
Smoke drifted from the labor pits deeper in the jungle clearing, where outcasts like them worked under the authority of stronger exiles, men who ruled this forgotten place like jungle tyrants.
The Outland was where the forsaken ended up. Thieves. Failed mages. War criminals. The disgraced. Some turned savage, others formed clans. The lucky ones, like Wuxian and Lufeng, managed to work under those who offered food in exchange for labor.
But the land itself was cursed. Mana didn't flow here. Any mage who tried to use magic in the Outland would find their energy drained with no return. It was a slow magical death.
"I hate this life," Lufeng muttered, his stomach growling as he picked bark from between his teeth. "Working for scraps under some self-proclaimed masters. Waking up to beatings, choking on fungus stew, bowing to maniacs who'd watch us get torn apart by feral monkey demons without blinking."
"Everything's dying out here, our bodies, our minds… and up there, in the Inland? They breathe clean air and toss food to dogs that eat better than us."
"But we survive," Wuxian said calmly. "That's more than some can say."
Lufeng spat into the grass. "You call this survival? No. This is crawling. I was born to rule, not rot. I want more than this rot-stained existence."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers twitching as if he wanted to throttle the world into submission.
"You know what I want, Wux? To be back in the Inland."
Wuxian glanced sideways at him.
Lufeng's eyes gleamed with a wild hunger. "Not like this. Not as a mold-chewing exile. I want back in, clean, with a new name, a new face. I want to walk through the gates with my head high while nobles whisper about which great house I come from."
Wuxian didn't reply. He knew the speech by heart. Normally, this was the part where Lufeng ranted about feasts, women, wine, and a full year of non-stop eating.
But this time, Lufeng's voice shifted.
"You've heard of him, right? The Demon Lord of the Southern Ridge."
Wuxian blinked. That wasn't the name he expected. "You mean that smuggler warlord from the Inland?"
"Yeah. The one who used to be the kingdom's army commander, until the king replaced him with someone else. Now he rules the black market. He moves everything into the Inner Kingdom: weapons, mana dust, forbidden scrolls… even highborn slaves. All of it flows through his hands."
Wuxian narrowed his eyes. "So? What's he got to do with us?"
"There's a recruitment drive. For exiles like us." Lufeng's voice lowered. "He's offering people a way back into the Inland. But there's a price. Pledge yourself to his army, and he'll remove your banishment seal. Wipe your record. Give you a clean identity. A brand new life."
"You believe that?"
"I believe he has the power to do it. Someone like him, who manipulates the entire black market under the noses of the royal court? You think removing a seal is impossible for a man like that?"
Wuxian stared at the dirt. The vines beneath his boots suddenly felt like chains.
Lufeng didn't stop. "You pass his trials, you're in. Legit. He gives you papers, a new life, and purpose. You're not some rat scrounging in the mud, you're part of something powerful."
"You're planning to join him?"
Lufeng didn't hesitate. "I'll fight. Bleed. Kill. Whatever it takes. If it gets me through those walls, I don't care if people call him a demon or a devil. He's giving people like us a way out. A way up."
"People are calling him monster?" Wuxian asked.
"He's not exactly the monster you'd think. He has a magic that can control people's action, but if we become his army, we would surely have the same powers won't we?" Lufeng said, almost trying to convince Wuxian.
He smiled like a man who'd already seen his future carved in stone. "Results matter. It's better to serve a demon who gives you purpose than starve in the dirt under brutes who can't read. When I return to the kingdom, I'll be feared. I'll matter."
Wuxian turned to him, his expression unreadable. "So it's not just freedom you want. You want fear. You want power."
"I want to be free," Lufeng said. "And if that means people tremble when they hear my name? Then so be it."
Silence stretched between them. Heavy and uncertain.
Then, quieter now, Lufeng asked, "What about you, Wux? What do you want?"
"I don't have a dream."
"Bullshit. Everyone's got one. Come on, tell me. I won't tell a soul. Swear on my mother's nonexistent grave."
Wuxian didn't answer.
Not because he didn't want to.
Because something shifted.
His vision blurred. The jungle faded. And then, fire.
An endless field scorched by war. Thunder cracking like a war drum. Rows of black-robed mages marching. A flag whipping violently in the wind. And at the center was him.
The man. The king. His hand raised. His name echoing through the thunder.
Li Wuxian.
His chest tightened. His fists clenched.
And then it was gone.
"Yo, Wux, you gonna pass out or did you just get possessed by tree spirits again?" Lufeng nudged him.
Wuxian blinked. "Huh?"
Lufeng laughed and stood, stretching with a groan. "Come on. Let's go grab something edible from the foragers before we're dragged back to haul crates for those broccoli-headed tyrants. Maybe food will fix whatever drama you've got going on in that skull of yours."
Wuxian rose slowly, his heart still racing.
"Yeah… food sounds good."
They walked off, disappearing into the jungle mist, two orphans from the edge of the world, carrying pasts buried in shadow and futures written in smoke.
One of them once bore a name that could bend nations. But the world had forgotten it. He himself has been abandoned.
But not forever.