HDRDTH -Chapter 123 I’m Going Home! Now. Immediately!

“Beep—beep—beep!”

Inside the “Kunpeng” strategic transport aircraft, overload alarms screamed in unison.

Red warning lights flashed wildly.

The massive black bronze coffin was forcibly dragged out of the sea by an invisible force field. Water cascaded down its surface, crashing into the ocean below with deafening roars.

Too heavy.

This was not the weight of a coffin at all. It felt like the entire seabed of the Pacific Ocean had been hooked onto a fishing line.

Yu Xian’s right foot was braced hard against the edge of the hatch, muscles in his arm bulging.

The “magnetic fluid mental amplification device” in his hand bent to an impossible arc, emitting a sinister creaking sound from its midsection. A hairline crack appeared on its surface. The pinnacle creation of military science was reaching its absolute physical limit.

Blood seeped from the dark red vertical mark on Yu Xian’s right palm, spreading along the metal rod and flowing into the crack.

The crack stopped expanding.

The rod let out a low hum, as if nourished by his blood, and stabilized again.

The tail of “Kunpeng” had tilted thirty degrees. The ocean was getting closer and closer. The pilot’s roar had turned into a desperate whimper:

“Pull up! Full pull-up! Flight control overload!”

Yu Xian gritted his teeth, forcing his core strength.

The dark red mark on his palm flared with blinding light.

“GET UP—!”

BOOM!

The bronze coffin broke free from the sea like a cannon shell and smashed directly into the wide cargo hold of the transport aircraft. The fuselage dropped violently.

Yu Xian swung his left hand.

An invisible force field spread instantly, supporting the aircraft from below. The falling transport plane suddenly stabilized again in midair.

Silence returned to the cabin.

Only the howling wind remained.

Chu Feng and Li Yao collapsed against the cabin walls, gasping for breath. Both stared at the bronze coffin lying across the center of the cargo hold.

On its lid, four ancient seal-script characters radiated an oppressive aura that transcended millennia:

Taigong Is Here.

Chu Feng fell to his knees, removed his tactical helmet, and slammed his forehead against the metal floor.

“Descendants of Huaxia… pay respects to Taigong!”

His voice was hoarse, eyes red.

Li Yao trembled violently against the wall.

She had undergone twelve years of elite training in the Great Wa Empire, seen the most advanced military technology, the most absurd intelligence operations—but nothing in any manual prepared her for a man in slippers fishing a 3,000-year-old coffin out of the Pacific.

Her brain refused to process it.

Yu Xian did not kneel.

He casually tossed aside the metal rod, shuffled over in his remaining slipper, and patted the cold bronze lid.

“Enough of this,” he said. “Old man Jiang, you already tried to scam me in my dreams, now you’re forcing a sale? I paid 3 billion for this island. What do you think you’re doing squatting on my property?”

Chu Feng lifted his head, shocked.

He wanted to say “impossible,” but swallowed it back.

Perhaps… this was some kind of tacit understanding between Yu Xian and Taigong?

He dared not speculate further and lowered his head again.

Yu Xian ignored him. He grabbed the coffin lid.

“Open.”

With a heavy grinding sound, the multi-ton bronze lid was forced open halfway.

A dry, ancient scent of sandalwood surged out.

Inside the coffin, only three items lay quietly:

A torn scroll that was neither silk nor paper.
A broken black wooden whip split into two.
And a translucent jade slip.

Yu Xian glanced at the empty coffin and sneered.

“I knew it.”

He tapped the edge.

“You old fox. No way you buried yourself underwater. All this for three scraps? Cheap.”

He picked up the jade slip.

The moment his fingers touched it, the jade cracked instantly from within and turned to dust.

A chaotic flood of images and sound exploded into his mind without warning.

A misty riverbank appeared in his consciousness once again.

Jiang Ziya sat cross-legged on a stone, wearing his ragged straw raincoat, smiling like a scammer who had just sold fake bait for real money.

“Kid, got your delivery?” Jiang Ziya’s voice echoed directly in his mind, absurdly modern in tone.

Yu Xian rolled his eyes mentally.

“What exactly are you doing? Where’s my island?”

“The island is gone,” Jiang Ziya said calmly. “That place is the eye of the Ruins Formation. I used it 3,000 years ago to seal a sea breach.”

“Long story short—did you think the War of the Investiture of the Gods was just some primitive human conflict between Shang and Zhou?”

Yu Xian said nothing.

“That was a planetary defense war,” Jiang Ziya continued, pointing upward.

“Those so-called gods were actually extraterritorial demons—high-dimensional resource predators. To them, Earth is just a fish pond full of fat fish.”

“Hold on,” Yu Xian interrupted. “Fish pond again? Can you change the metaphor?”

“No,” Jiang Ziya replied seriously. “I’ve been fishing for three thousand years. I don’t know any other word.”

Yu Xian went silent for two seconds.

Jiang Ziya continued:

“Three thousand years ago, they attempted dimensional harvesting. I gathered my brothers, drained the earth’s ley lines, water veins, and destiny energy, and forged the Investiture of the Gods. We blocked them outside the dimension.”

“But seals decay. I calculated that after 3,000 years, the suppression would fail completely.”

“So I sealed Earth’s last strand of high-dimensional origin into the river of time. And that strand… hit you.”

“Why me?” Yu Xian blurted out.

“Because you’re an unkillable bastard,” Jiang Ziya said bluntly. “Reincarnation couldn’t kill you. If it hit anyone else, their soul would’ve exploded. You absorbed it. You carry future memories, you casually cook meals that trigger dimensional resonance—this is no coincidence.”

“You are now the new owner of this fish pond.”

Yu Xian felt a vein twitch on his forehead.

“I resign,” he said immediately. “I already managed a company in my past life. I died from overwork. Now you want me to manage Earth? I just want to fish.”

“Too late,” Jiang Ziya sneered.

“The Olympus Project from the White Eagle Nation is a collaboration with the extraterritorial demons. You just shattered one of their anchors by crushing that scale.”

“They’ve already noticed you.”

Yu Xian raised an eyebrow.

“They noticed me? I’ve been noticed for decades. Didn’t see anyone do anything about it.”

Jiang Ziya ignored him. His figure began to fade.

“The scroll suppresses your aura. The broken whip is yours to use however you want.”

“Final warning…”

His voice suddenly turned cold—ancient, battlefield-hardened.

“Dimensional descent requires pure souls as vessels.”

“Those three girls in your home… have extremely special destinies.”

Yu Xian’s expression sharpened.

Three?

Su Wanyi, Su Xi, Wang Fei.

“Su Wanyi doesn’t count,” Jiang Ziya said, as if reading his mind. “She is your anchor. If she breaks, you fall. But she won’t be targeted.”

“The other three targets are Su Xi, Wang Fei… and one more I cannot yet perceive.”

His gaze deepened.

“The third coordinate is still dormant. When she awakens, the demons will arrive en masse.”

“They are the first wave of descent targets.”

Buzz—

The mental projection shattered.

Yu Xian’s eyes snapped open.

The cabin temperature dropped instantly.

Chu Feng shivered and instinctively reached for his gun—but froze mid-motion when he saw Yu Xian’s expression.

Wrong.

Completely wrong.

This was the expression of someone about to kill.

Yu Xian’s mind was eerily calm.

No anger.

Anger was for strangers.

What he had now was certainty.

In his previous life, he died alone in an ICU after seven days of agony. That loneliness was carved into his bones.

He would not let those three girls feel even a trace of it.

No one would.

“Chu Feng,” Yu Xian said calmly.

“Yes!” Chu Feng snapped upright.

“Take the scroll and the broken whip to Beijing. Give them to Old Li.”

“Tell him to place the scroll in the command center. As long as it remains intact, the nation’s fate will not fall.”

Chu Feng froze.

This was Taigong’s relic—and Yu Xian just handed it over like that?

Yu Xian glanced at his right palm.

He didn’t need it.

The real Investiture of the Gods was already carved into his palm.

The whip was already in his bones.

“Then you—” Chu Feng asked quickly.

“I’m going back to Jiangcheng.”

Yu Xian stepped forward, then suddenly stopped.

The dark red mark on his palm burned violently again.

A clear sensation—someone was pulling a thread attached to him from thousands of kilometers away.

The other end was Jinshui Bay.

His expression changed.

“Full speed,” Yu Xian said coldly.

“I’m going home. Now. Immediately.”

He raised his left hand toward the floor of the aircraft.

A force field poured into the structure.

The Kunpeng’s four engines screamed in protest, pushed beyond design limits. The aircraft tore through the clouds at full power, blasting a white sonic cone across the sky.

Inside the cockpit, all instruments went insane.

The speed needle broke past the gauge limit.