I Am Your Natural Enemy

”I’d even picked out a serial number for you. But later, a senior reminded me, ’Those who tamper with fate, who play with time, never meet a good end. Everything should return to its original, rightful state.’”

Wen Yan watched Little Mustache, who didn’t rush to rewind time further. The man’s eyes were beginning to show a hint of lucid madness. That was what a standard player should be like, Wen Yan mused. Unafraid of death, and even in death, determined to drag you down with them.

Little Mustache could rewind successfully, but it only affected his own body. This told Wen Yan that Little Mustache had been right: he was now Little Mustache’s only anchor.

Then, Wen Yan swapped Wave Calming for Chaotic Deity. According to its description, Chaotic Deity was meant to be used when the opponent had lost their anchor. He had previously guessed that under such circumstances, if Little Mustache dared to rewind, he would enter a dead save state. But from the moment Little Mustache saw him and spoke his first words, Wen Yan must have already met the conditions to be an anchor.

Now, Wen Yan thought, since Temporary Abilities are based on my existing abilities and my own thoughts and desires, their applications shouldn’t be limited to a single specific use.

So, as Little Mustache prepared to rewind time again, Wen Yan equipped Chaotic Deity. Then, he cast Chaotic Deity on himself. Adding chaos to disorder, drawing turmoil from pandemonium. The instant he cast Chaotic Deity upon himself, he felt as if his entire being plunged into chaos.

And in that instant, Little Mustache rewound time once more. This time, without Wave Calming, Wen Yan didn’t stay put. However, his anchor—Wen Yan—had become chaotic and disorderly. It was as if, in an instant, the anchor pervaded everywhere.

The receding wave lost its direction—or rather, it gained countless directions. Instantly, swept up in this disorder and chaos, it split into tens of thousands of fragments. These tens of thousands of water droplets seemed to instantly generate tens of thousands of small rivers. In each small river, there was a Little Mustache, and also a Wen Yan.

In some small rivers was the Little Mustache from over three years ago, back when he hadn’t yet grown a mustache. In others was the Little Mustache from half a month ago, sitting in a coffee shop drinking coffee.

Time began to blur. He split into tens of thousands of versions of himself, and then, in some of the small rivers, these Little Mustaches started to die: swatted to death by a Mountain Lord, slain by Heretic Rites in a cave, done in by his own rash ambition, crushed into a meat patty in a car accident, struck down by lightning erupting from an album...

As his past deaths began to resurface, he was no longer whole. He started to lose himself in the annals of time, shattering into fragments.

Wen Yan’s trajectory, however, continued as before: studying for exams, eventually getting into the Virtue City Funeral House. Then, the day before he was due to start work, a turning point occurred. He appeared in that stone forest, saw a damaged Physician Stone Tablet, and didn’t choose it.

In the second small river, the second Wen Yan instinctively ignored the Physician Stone Tablet and moved on to the next. He examined it carefully for a long time but still didn’t choose. The third Wen Yan did the same.

Because his cultivation had always involved trial and error on the brink of life and death, when faced with such a choice, he would instinctively know it was wrong. He didn’t choose the Stele before him.

The fourth... the fifth... In the end, after examining all the Steles, none of the Wen Yans made a choice.

Finally, the last Wen Yan found the last unchosen Stele: Natural Enemy. He chose this one.

Just like that time, he thought, recalling the feeling. I’d come to this stone forest so many times, never finding a choice I was happy with. Finally choosing Natural Enemy, though, felt incredibly satisfying.

Of course, the fact that members of other professions generally met violent ends truly dissatisfied me; the only one I could find where everyone died of natural causes was the Natural Enemy Profession. The catch was, this ’everyone’ might have only ever been a single person.

Some Wen Yans started working at the Virtue City Funeral House. Others, who hadn’t made a choice and thus didn’t encounter the Soul Devouring Beast, failed their interviews the next day and began ordinary lives: some opened restaurants, some noodle shops, others started various businesses, began making videos, or even tried their hand at writing novels.

One Wen Yan opened an authentic Guanzhong Snack Shop. He encountered a customer with a little mustache who picked a fight, insisting that authentic Guanzhong meat sandwiches shouldn’t include green peppers. Wen Yan argued with him at length, trying to make him understand that Guanzhong County was actually quite large.

A Wen Yan who drove the Spiritual Vehicle for the Virtue City Funeral House passed by a street corner. A Little Mustache, sipping coffee there, frowned slightly as the vehicle went by.

A Wen Yan who tended the cremation furnace at the Virtue City Funeral House sent a client, Little Mustache, into the Luxury Furnace.

A Wen Yan who had returned to Guanzhong County to film short dramas encountered an artistically dressed Little Mustache. Wen Yan tried to coax him into making a guest appearance, but it led to some unpleasantness.

One by one, the Wen Yans began to encounter the Little Mustaches—some merely brushed past each other, while others clashed unpleasantly...

After each Wen Yan had a single contact with a Little Mustache, they would begin to drift further and further apart.

As time flowed on, and the various Wen Yans finished their day’s work—whether clocking off from a job or closing up a shop—they started to head home. At that point, the small rivers, which had been drifting, began to descend, plummeting downwards. One by one, the Wen Yans started to go home. They followed these small rivers as they fell, re-entering the main river, flowing downstream, and guided by an inner sense, found their way back.