How I Turned Into a Jiangshi: A Story of Transformation

Let's begin... As you close your eyes, you tune into your senses. The world seems ordinary at first, but there’s a murmur in the back of your mind. A call that begins to intensify. Chilling sensations bristle beneath your skin, your heart pounding against your chest. You feel a profound sense of transformation. It's not just physical; not just the sensation of your body growing younger, stronger, but a shift in the very essence of your being. Every wrinkle, every sign of age peels away like shedding years in mere moments. You're no longer just you. Something else is emerging. Your once human instincts start to wane, supplanted by a new, unfamiliar hunger. A yearning for something intangible—to draw substance from life itself. It feels foreign but instinctive. You’ve traded your nametags. "Human" is a thing of the past. Your heart slows as your body acclimates to its newfound immortality. Your stomach churns at the idea of food; solid sustenance no longer matters. Your tongue longs not for tastes of the world but for something ineffable. Breath, once the essence of life, becomes an unnecessary act. Death is a foreign concept now. As your human memories begin to fade, you are filled with a new understanding, a new history. You don’t remember your first steps as a child, but instead, the sensation of rising from your grave for the first time, waking after the death slumber. Every inch of your skin hardens, becoming impenetrable. The world around you dulls; colors lose their vibrance as your vision shifts to accommodate the darkness. You are a Jiangshi, bound to the silent nights and cryptic shadows, traversing not with a stride, but a distinctive hop. Your ears tune into a different frequency. And if before you had ruminated about life’s marvels, now, you listen with an eerie silence, acutely aware of every breath drawn by the living around you. Your mind— replaced by a Jiangshi’s— has a different way of measuring time, a different sense of self. Mortal worries like time are unimportant now. Power and survival take precedence. Your reflexes are sharper, faster than your human self could ever manage. You've not just inherited the physical prowess of the Jiangshi, but the endless accounts of their experiences and their infinite wisdom accumulated over centuries. Long gone are the traces of your past existence; your human frailty, vulnerability, and morality have all but disappeared. Yet, beneath this ageless, undying form, there’s something left of you. A spark, a touch of curiosity, a shred of the essence that once made you human. It serves as a bittersweet reminder, a whisper in the shadowed hallways of your immortal existence saying "once upon a time, you were human." As this new existence takes hold, you find yourself reassured by the wisdom of the countless Jiangshi who came before you, their narratives woven into the fabric of your being. Now, as you open your eyes to the moonlit night, you're no longer just a reader, but a creature of supernatural lore. The newfound power within your hands feels intoxicating, and with a muted echo of your past humanity, you embrace your raw, vibrant, immortal life as a Jiangshi.