Winter Day 24, Year 255 of the Tiancang Era
After his death, a faint wisp of Wu Ming’s soul drifted unknowingly into the Netherworld, lingering in silence as it awaited the wheel of reincarnation.
Autumn Day 27, Year 256 of the Tiancang Era
Reborn into a forsaken land cursed with dire Fengshui, Wu Ming perished young. The malignant energies twisted his spirit into a vengeful ghost that terrorized villagers for over a decade, until a passing immortal exorcist scattered his essence with a single talisman. Once more, he tumbled into the cycle of rebirth.
Autumn Day 25, Year 310 of the Tiancang Era
This time, fortune smiled briefly: Wu Ming was born the son of a celebrated general. Yet treachery struck when the general’s political rivals framed him for rebellion. Guilty by blood association, the entire household—including the innocent Wu Ming—was executed beneath the emperor’s seal.
Winter Day 11, Year 376 of the Tiancang Era
Demoted by karma to the lowliest form, Wu Ming reincarnated as a humble ant in a bustling colony. His tiny life ended ignobly when a mischievous child, giggling with cruel delight, flooded the nest with a stream of urine. Drowned amid his brethren, Wu Ming’s soul slipped again into samsara.
Summer Day 21, Year 437 of the Tiancang Era
Rising slightly in station, he returned as a vibrant parrot in the aviary of a wealthy merchant. Alas, the bird’s former human habits proved fatal: having overheard sailors and drunkards, Wu Ming squawked endless profanities from dawn till dusk. Infuriated, the merchant’s wife ordered every feather plucked. Naked and shivering, he froze to death beneath the autumn moon.
Autumn Day 21, Year 262 of the Tiancang Era
Age: 31
Finally granted another human life, Wu Ming ventured into the marketplace one crisp morning. There he spotted a child behaving oddly—dancing alone, muttering to the wind. Recalling tavern tales of immortals descending in disguise to test mortal hearts, Wu Ming prostrated himself, offering sweets and fervent praise: “O exalted one, this humble fool beseeches your blessing!”
The crowd gathered, laughing. The child, it turned out, was merely the village idiot, escaped from his minder. Wu Ming’s groveling became the season’s greatest jest, retold in every teahouse from the river to the mountains. Red-faced and ridiculed, he slunk home, cursing the heavens for their endless, exquisite cruelty.
Thus continues the lamentable saga of Wu Ming—forever reborn, forever ruined.
