What Happens To Nien Cheng In Life And Death In Shanghai?

So what if you're formidable or filthy rich? Don't you dare get cocky with me. I'm Cassian York. I can save your life, and I can end it, too!

He was a Kung Fu head trainer, who was framed by his two trainees in a rape and murder case of Clushia, a female trainee, who was obsessed with him. He was convicted and brought to the maximum penal institution called the 'Hellhole', for no prisoner got out of it alive. In one of the prisoners’ riots, he was forced to fight to defend himself but ended up killing another prisoner. He was put to an oubliette. Unknown to him, that oubliette is the door to an underground city, with an arena for the so-called “Game of Fangs and Death” by the Alpha Pharoah. The game is for five nights. If he wins, he will be given a free pass leading to a secret passage, away from the 'Hellhole'. Could there be an escape for him from the 'Hellhole'? Could his heart find an escape from the Alpha Pharoah's daughter, who has a lot of similarities to Clushia? It was like, Clushia had been born again through her. Would suddenly his never known powerful blood and lineage eventually help him escape from his death?

The fake daughter married my boyfriend. My mouth was taped and I was being chopped into pieces by her admirer. The entire family took turns to call me. My mother said, "How ungrateful you are. I should not have brought you home back then." Father added, "Don't bother coming back if you do not attend Samantha's wedding." Brother said, "Let me tell you, you shall root in hell if you choose not to attend the wedding." At that moment, I didn't even have the energy to shout for help due to excessive blood loss. Everyone lost their patience, "Speak up! Are you dead or what?" I could only see the calls being disconnected. One thing they did not know, I was really dead.

In my previous life, my husband suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage and died instantly in his office. When I arrived at the hospital, all that awaited me was his lifeless body. Overwhelmed with grief, I coughed up blood and was bedridden ever since. On my deathbed, I happened to see a news report—my husband had won a $15 million lottery. Standing beside him at the prize ceremony was none other than my best friend. The shock killed me on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my husband had just died.

At the scene of a massive chain-collision accident, my police officer fiancé was being interviewed by the media. Facing the public’s praise for being “selfless and just”, he calmly stated that prioritizing the rescue of the female officer trainee riding in the same car was merely a police officer's instinct. It wasn’t until the cameras turned away that he tiredly rubbed his temple. He turned his head and asked the colleague beside him in a low voice, “Where is Lea? The core area was in critical danger just now, so I had to prioritize evacuating the injured Willow. Did the other teams manage to get her out?” His colleague looked completely taken aback. “Bro, your fiancé was trapped right there in your passenger seat! When everyone saw you carrying Willow out, we all assumed you were going to turn right back around to save her…” Shawn’s expression instantly twisted into a mix of fury and shock. Yet, he forced his emotions down and said sternly, “If that’s the case… then this is simply her fate as a family member of a police officer. By sacrificing herself to save those in greater need, she died an honorable death.” Meanwhile, I was sprawled in the freezing mud and water over a dozen meters away from the wreckage of the car. Just two minutes ago, the fire had engulfed the passenger seat. In a desperate bid to survive, I had used a shard of broken glass to slice through my seatbelt with my bare hands, crawling out of the sea of fire with a fractured right leg. At that very moment, what kept me awake even more than the excruciating pain of my broken bone was the death of my heart.

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.