That’s Not Me

1,230 words

The flames kept burning, burning everything about Li Huowang. His form was slowly turning toward that of Shou San’s charred blackness.

Whether it was from the pill he’d swallowed or from the fire engulfing him, everything Li Huowang saw began to warp.

The skeletal remains around him—which should have been still—started to grow like trees, twisting and writhing in grotesque, unnatural shapes as they stretched upward.

“Ah… Ah… AHHHH!!!”

With Li Huowang’s roar, the flames seemed to find an entrance. They poured into him in an instant, beginning to sear his internal organs from the inside.

“Young friend Xuan Yang. It is time.”

Shou San stepped forward, reached out, and spread the Thousand Greats Record open before Li Huowang’s face.

Li Huowang, tortured beyond endurance by a double layer of agony, stared through the thick flames at the object before him.

At this moment, the Thousand Greats Record in front of him was no longer a set of bamboo slips laid side by side. It had become a mass of writhing, flesh-colored worms. They stood in neat rows, their bodies inscribed with strange characters, forming an utterly bizarre book of meat.

“What… the fuck is going on?!”

Li Huowang felt his mind turn into a mess of porridge. Or perhaps, under the inferno’s heat, his brain had literally become a porridge.

From all directions, the Ao-Jing cultists, having shed their robes, slowly closed in. They dragged their ruined bodies, circling him in a pattern—a seated ring with Li Huowang at the center.

But in Li Huowang’s eyes, each of them was now a bloody, indistinct monster.

Shou San watched the flames for a moment, then took a step back.

“Young friend. Do not forget why you came to our sect. The time is ripe. Open the door to the bitter sea. See Bashe once more.”

Li Huowang turned his own burning eyes toward him. “You lied to me?! Was all of this a lie?!”

“No. I did not lie. This is merely a convenient opportunity—I only made use of it. Do you not wish to be rid of your master? If you summon Bashe, the elders have ways to deal with the Danyangzi who haunts you.”

Li Huowang, in unbearable suffering, let out a wail. He lifted his charred hands and gently pressed them onto the worms inscribed with their dense, ritual script.

At that moment, the pain in both body and mind began to transform into something else—just as it had before.

An aura of utterly despairing terror emanated from Li Huowang. It made everyone present tremble uncontrollably—a power that did not belong to the mortal world.

Li Huowang was deeply familiar with this scene. This was the prelude to Bashe’s arrival. His five senses began to twist and merge. The cloudless sky above abruptly changed color.

Seeing this, Shou San became excited. His body began to tremble in anticipation. “After all this fuss… it’s finally coming.”

And yet, things did not develop the way he had anticipated. The strange phenomena started violently, but soon settled into calm.

“What is going on?” The agitated Shou San instinctively looked toward Li Huowang. For some reason, in that instant, he felt that the other man had become… different.

At the same time, Li Huowang was slowly lifting his hands away from the Thousand Greats Record.

The pain was gone from his voice. In its place was a hint of confusion.

“Why… why should I be in so much pain? What does their death have to do with me? There’s nothing restraining me now. So what if I kill a few people? Who’s going to say anything?”

“This place is the law of the jungle. The weak deserve to die. If I don’t kill them, someone else will. It’s laughable—why should I feel guilty?”

“Besides, for all I know, this is all just one of those Ao-Jing self-torturers’ cons!”

As these words left his mouth, Li Huowang felt the mountain of pressure on him vanish without a trace.

Watching Li Huowang, who had suddenly become a different person, Shou San asked nervously, “Young friend? Is your master’s influence too strong? Hold fast to your true heart, young friend. Do you want to be completely taken over by your master?”

As he spoke these words, Shou San saw Li Huowang in the flames suddenly grab his own head with both hands, struggling in agony, beginning to argue with himself.

“They died! So what? What’s it to us?! You think you’re some great saint? You can’t even keep yourself alive, and you’re worried about others?!”

“Danyangzi! Get out of my head!! I decide my own morals!! You won’t influence me anymore!!”

As he shouted, the chaotic sky and the terrifying aura around him swelled and shrank in tandem. As time passed, it slowly shrank toward the smaller end.

At this critical moment, Li Huowang once again felt everything around him change abruptly. The extreme pain in his body and heart receded swiftly, replaced by a quiet, enveloping peace.

When he came to his senses again, he found himself wearing a straitjacket, sitting in a wheelchair that his mother was pushing out into the hospital courtyard to get some sun. The pain and suffering had left him in an instant.

“Hah… hah… hah…” Still shaken, Li Huowang took in deep, ragged breaths.

After everything that had tormented him, he finally had a moment to catch his breath.

Right now, he wanted nothing more than to do nothing—to just rest in peace for a while.

“Son? Son, are you awake?” Sun Xiaoqin noticed with delight that her son was clearly different from his previous raving state. He was actually looking at things with his eyes now.

Li Huowang looked at his mother, his expression terribly complicated. “Mom, you know? I really don’t want to go back there. It’s so exhausting over there.”

Sun Xiaoqin pulled him into her arms, her hands full of love. “It’s okay. Don’t be scared. It’s all a hallucination. None of it is real.”

Li Huowang closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Honestly, right now he really wanted to run away. He didn’t want to suffer anymore.

Compared to the peace and quiet here, his family, and Yang Na—that place was pure hell.

But what had just happened seemed to finally catch up with him, burrowing into his mind. His expression began to twist with pain.

“Mom… who am I?”

“You’re Li Huowang! You’re my son!”

“Then… what kind of person is your son?” His voice was filled with pain and confusion.

Sun Xiaoqin’s hand stroked her son’s head. “Li Huowang is a good boy. He’s sincere with others. He’s sensible. He studies hard. Do you remember that afternoon in the second year of junior high? That day on the bus…”

Hearing his mother’s words, Li Huowang recalled the past—recalled all the things he had done.

He had experienced far too much since coming to this place. So much that he had forgotten what kind of person he used to be.

He had changed. He had changed for the worse—a lot. And it wasn’t just Danyangzi’s influence. It was that world’s influence, too.

Gradually, his gaze began to steady. “Yeah… This is me. This is the real Li Huowang.”

“The suspicious fool who’s easily tricked, who has no sense of right or wrong—that’s not me. That’s Danyangzi. That’s not me!”

Share to

Reading Guide Decoding

Identity Crisis and the Battle for the Soul

Cultural / Xianxia Notes

The “Pose-Question / Answer-Yourself” Trauma Structure: This chapter uses a very specific psychological narrative pattern common to both Chinese web novels and real psychiatric accounts of possession or dissociative identity disorders. The protagonist literally argues with an internal voice that presents as either “the other person” (Danyangzi) or “the corrupt version of myself.” This is not just a cool visual—it mirrors the Daoist concept of xinmo (心魔), the “heart demon,” an internal obstacle born from one’s own doubts and flaws that a cultivator must overcome to advance. But here, it is brutalized: Li Huowang’s heart-demon is not a test; it is an invasive parasite trying to convince him he no longer has a self to protect.

The Role of the Hospital as “Anchor Space”: Throughout Dao Gui Yi Xian, the psychiatric hospital acts as a narrative anchor point—a place where the rules of modern reality still apply. However, as readers know, even this space is not immune to contamination. In this chapter, the contrast between the burning flesh-horror of the ritual and the sterile warmth of a mother’s touch creates a sharp emotional dissonance. It is a classic Chinese narrative technique called xian bi zi ming (先悲自明, “first make it bitter, then make it clear”): the pain makes the solace feel sweeter—and more fragile.

Chapter Overview

Get ready for a gut-punch, folks. Chapter 129 is not about monsters, rituals, or cosmic horrors—it’s about a mirror. Li Huowang, burning alive both physically and spiritually, finds himself at the absolute brink of an Ao-Jing ritual meant to summon the primordial god Bashe. But instead of a world-ending catastrophe, we get something far more terrifying: an identity crisis. The flames, the pain, the chanting cultists—all of it fades when a voice that sounds exactly like his own starts whispering the easiest lies in the book: You owe nobody anything. The weak deserve to die. Why feel guilty? This isn’t an external enemy—it’s Danyangzi, festering inside his skull. The chapter delivers its most devastating blow not through violence but through a hospital wheelchair and a mother’s gentle voice. Because when you can’t tell if the monster wearing your face is you or someone else, no amount of fire can burn that away.

Key Plot Points

Shou San pushes Li Huowang to activate the Thousand Greats Record, believing the moment is ripe to open the passage to the “Bitter Sea” and summon Bashe.
As Li Huowang presses his burning hands onto the Record, the sky warps and a terrifying, otherworldly aura begins to manifest—the unmistakable sign of Bashe’s arrival.
But suddenly, the phenomenon stops. Shou San’s anticipation turns to confusion as Li Huowang’s demeanor shifts completely.
In a cold, detached voice, Li Huowang starts rationalizing away his guilt and pain: Why should I care? The weak deserve to die. It’s probably another of the Ao-Jing’s tricks.
Shou San panics, realizing Danyangzi is taking over Li Huowang’s mind. Li Huowang visibly struggles with himself, shouting at the voice inside his own head.
The external chaos recedes as the internal battle settles—just barely in Li Huowang’s favor.
He “wakes up” in the psych ward, pushed in a wheelchair by his mother, Sun Xiaoqin. The respite is a lifeline, letting him catch his breath.
Sun Xiaoqin comforts him, calling the other world a hallucination and reminding him of his past kindness.
In this moment of fragile peace, Li Huowang asks the chapter’s core question: “Mom… who am I?”
His mother recounts his true character—sincere, hardworking, good-hearted. This acts as an anchor.
Li Huowang’s eyes settle with new resolve: the suspicious, amoral version of him isn’t real. That is Danyangzi. This—the person his mother describes—is the real Li Huowang.

Reading Guide

Alright, fellow Daoists, put down your alchemy manuals for a second. This chapter is a masterclass in emotional whiplash. You’ll go from “oh shit, they’re summoning an ancient god” to “wait, why is Li Huowang suddenly chill about murder?” to “oh no, the bad one is winning” to “aww, mom is here” to “wait, did he just beat the demon by remembering who he used to be?”—all in under ten paragraphs. That is good pacing, and you should savor it.

Pay special attention to the contrast between the two Shou San’s: when he’s excited and trembling, he’s a gleeful observer of a cosmic event; when Li Huowang starts slipping, Shou San’s voice turns nervous and he urges Li Huowang to “hold fast to your true heart.” This tells you that even a jaded cultist who burns himself for fun recognizes that Danyangzi’s corruption is worse. That’s the scale we’re dealing with.

And finally, the last line is a thesis statement for the entire novel so far: “The suspicious fool who’s easily tricked, who has no sense of right or wrong—that’s not me. That’s Danyangzi. That’s not me!” This is not just a character moment—it’s Li Huowang reclaiming his soul. Whether he can keep it is a question for the next chapter. But for now? Let him have this one.