Reborn as a Peacock, Crowned as the Demon Sage

The Last Four Souls

{one}Prologue

It had ended in failure.

Across the vast expanse of the river, thick mist rose in veils, curling into the air like clouds of vapor, cloaking the surroundings in a dense, ghostly shroud. But this was no ethereal paradise—not a realm of celestial tranquility. It was a land riven by chaos, cacophonous with the roar of destruction.

In the distance, a city was ablaze, devoured by flames that danced wildly in the night. Scarlet tongues of fire twisted and licked the air, resembling grotesque, misshapen faces that leered and sneered, mocking his audacity, ridiculing his overreach.

Overreach...

Was that what it was?

Shen Yi sighed, weariness weighing down his breath.

In the end—there simply hadn’t been enough time.

Behind him, the cannons still roared, belching fire as they launched iron spheres—spheres packed with flame—hurtling toward their intended target.

They moved at blinding speed—so swift they were imperceptible to the naked eye, leaving only luminous trails etched across the retina like the comet’s tail.

But no matter how furiously they flew, they could not strike true.

Across the river, a pair of hands moved as though stirring water—gentle, subtle, and yet powerful. Though invisible, their movement sent ripples through the air itself. The cannonballs veered from their course, diverted harmlessly away.

That bloated silhouette, shrouded in an aura of stark black and white—

That aura of duality, light and shadow balanced in perfect disharmony—

Was this the so-called “protagonist”?

Was this destiny?

“Is there truly no way to reverse it?”

Shen Yi—or rather, Prince Shen—thought silently.

He wasn’t afraid of what was to come.

But he was... unwilling.

He was a peacock now.

But mere days ago, he had not been.

He had been human. A man from the modern world, living in a bustling city, immersed in the monotony of everyday life.

And three days ago, he had awakened to find himself transformed—no longer a man, but a white peacock.

More than that—his memories told him something even more bewildering.

He was that white peacock.

Prince Shen.

The elegantly sinister villain from the second Kung Fu Panda film—regal, cunning, and cruel.

And already, the tale had begun.

He had harnessed the power of gunpowder. He had slain two kung fu masters. He had conquered Gongmen City.

Now, he stood on the precipice of war with the masters of the Jade Palace—those who embodied the heart and soul of kung fu itself.

More than that—he was the slayer of the panda clan. The near-extinction of Po’s people was his doing.

Po—the protagonist. The Dragon Warrior.

Shen Yi didn’t want to die.

Once he confirmed that this was no mere dream—once the initial haze of confusion cleared—he made a choice.

Even if he had been inexplicably thrust into this world, even if he had been inexplicably turned into a peacock and named Shen...

Precisely because everything made so little sense, he refused to die so senselessly.

So he began to fight against fate.

With foreknowledge gleaned from memory, he laid traps throughout Gongmen City, weaving elaborate ambushes, waiting patiently for the panda to stumble into them.

And many times—he almost succeeded.

Almost.

But "almost" is the chasm that separates victory from failure.

Perhaps destiny was real. Perhaps protagonists existed.

Time and time again, Po escaped the jaws of certain death.

And Shen Yi...

Was driven further into a corner.

Eventually, Po mastered a new technique—one that nullified the power of Shen’s cannon fire.

Was that it, then?

Would it all end this way—absurdly, inexplicably?

But still, Shen Yi would not surrender.

It wasn’t fear.

It was refusal.

In his former life, he had been a man of mediocrity. His studies had been average. His job mundane. A life of invisible labor, indistinguishable from millions of others. Days blurred together, indistinct and uncelebrated.

And now...

Must that pattern persist, even here?

Must he continue—

“No!”

He bared his beak in defiance, his crest feathers fluttering like silk in a storm. Behind him, his magnificent peacock tail fanned open slowly.

He possessed the memories of Prince Shen.

And at first, he had not understood them.

Why risk everything to weaponize gunpowder? Why annihilate the panda clan? Why seize Gongmen City with such ruthless ambition?

Before, it had all seemed incomprehensible.

But now...

Now, he understood.

He and the original Prince Shen were not so different.

They shared the same fatal flaw—pride.

They simply could not accept defeat.

As a child, Prince Shen had been frail and sickly, his future deemed bleak. His parents had looked upon him with disappointment, their eyes dull with unspoken judgment.

Surely, in those moments, he had felt it too—this same unwillingness to yield.

Shen Yi laughed.

What were schemes and strategies, traps and machinations?

In this moment, none of it mattered.

He stared across the river at the panda, at his graceful ease and unwavering stance.

A surge of emotion flooded Shen Yi’s chest—unstoppable, uncontainable.

“Then let me see it for myself...”

He spread his wings.

Behind him, his peacock fan gleamed with iridescent brilliance. His golden eyes blazed with light.

Heat pulsed from within him like a storm.

“Prince Shen!”

Catching an incoming cannonball with one hand, Po redirected it effortlessly, his stance poised and fluid.

He looked across the river at the white figure bathed in snowy light—once comical, now solemn.

That face, once plump and foolish, was now serious. Steeled.

Something had changed.

Po sensed it instinctively.

On the other side of the river—Prince Shen was no longer the same.

The cannon fire ceased.

The flames dropped into the river, releasing plumes of steam that veiled the waters in a haze of mist.

Yet even through that curtain, Shen Yi’s figure remained unmistakable.

“Come then, Dragon Warrior!” he cried.

Wings flared, peacock tail swirling like a storm of light.

Shen Yi launched himself into the sky—

A streak of white lightning, slicing across the surface of the river,

Hurtling straight toward the panda—

Toward the Dragon Warrior.

Ripples spread across the water in his wake.

Above, plum blossoms drifted from the sky.

High in the mountains, Master Oogway held a porcelain teacup in hand. He slowly raised his head and looked skyward.

In his ancient eyes, light flickered—

Points of starlight dancing and swirling, as though the heavens themselves were watching.

“Master Oogway? Master Oogway?”

A voice broke the silence.

“Is something the matter?”

It brought him gently back from his thoughts.

Master Oogway glanced down.

Before him stood a small figure garbed in a yellow-brown robe, with long whiskers at his lips and two round ears twitching on his head—Master Shifu, the raccoon master and current head of the Jade Palace.

Oogway said nothing for a moment. Then he shook his head slowly.

“The stars are shifting... the flow of time has changed.”

He spoke in a voice soft and slow, as if borne on the breeze.

Master Shifu furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

Oogway didn’t answer.

Instead, he raised his hand—

And caught a falling plum blossom.

Then he tilted his palm gently—

Letting the petal slide into his teacup.

“When petals fall like water, they create ripples,” he murmured. “And where there are ripples, change follows. New forces emerge, and the world cannot remain untouched.”

“What lies ahead... cannot be known.”

Shifu stood there, puzzled.

But he had long since grown accustomed to Master Oogway’s cryptic musings.

He asked no further questions.

After all, even if he did, the answer would likely be the same:

“The secrets of heaven cannot be revealed.”

That was the sort of thing Oogway always said.

And Shifu—

He hated that.

He really hated it when people began a sentence... and never finished it.

Chapter One: The Peacock and the Shamaness (Part One)

Darkness descended.

A haze of confusion enveloped him.

He floated in a liminal space between consciousness and oblivion, drifting aimlessly, a faint awareness stirring slowly within the enveloping blackness.

Neither real nor unreal, neither tangible nor entirely intangible...

Then, abruptly—

He jolted awake.

Shen Yi’s eyes snapped open.

Before him sprawled a lush tapestry of verdant green: towering trees with swaying branches, their dense foliage casting expansive, cool shadows beneath the canopy.

A gentle breeze caressed his face, bringing with it the fresh, earthy scent of grass.

Sunlight streamed in from behind, filtering through the leaves, illuminating countless motes of dust that danced and twirled like delicate strands of gossamer.

Shen Yi froze, bewildered.

Where was this place?

Had he not died?

In that final battle against Panda Abao, bef