In the same way that a car crash compels ordinary, mentally healthy individuals to actively seek out horrific images, Reverend Insanity is like a sadistic rabbithole where if you choose to take the plunge, you will commit yourself to the very end.
One of the most magical things about Reverend Insanity is how it immediately hooks the reader by the first three chapters. For me, the moment I could not stop reading was when the scene introduces the twin brother Fang Zheng, naive and not at all represented as a wholesome, filial brother as his jealousy of the main character encouraged me to find out how exactly Fang Yuan makes Fang Zheng suffer.
I read through the first two hundred chapters in about three days. Looking back, I was naive and arrogant to assume that I’d finish Reverend Insanity’s 2300 chapters within a month at this pace, as the fundamental elements I’m about to describe that kept me feverishly glued to my phone screen weren’t exactly absent, but faded away as the author’s priorities and writerly values seemed to change over the time he was writing and releasing the chapters.
One gets the sense from bad Xianxia novels that Chinese authors are simply writing a DnD campaign, like their personal fantasy in which they are inventing and fulfilling all sorts of childhood action fantasies. I personally get the sense that most bad Xianxia novels are boring because the author ultimately ends up talking to themselves, or to frame it in a better tone- writes for themselves, and only for themselves. When done right, this can be considered the most true and authentic Dao of writing stories, right? However, 90% of the time, as other Xianxia fans will tell you, it ends up reading like an autistic, self-contained world where meaningful, fleshed-out characters, logic and presentation are thrown out the window. Think MTL, MGA, or even the infamous Sonichu by Chris-Chan.
Reverend Insanity is not immune to this flaw, and that’s okay! The amateurish rambling and lack of craft is almost a charming idiosyncrasy of Xianxia webnovels. In a way, it’s what makes them so appealing and accessible to people who don’t read actual novels. The simplicity and almost complete disregard of what we’ve been traditionally taught in creative writing classes and workshops through education is what encourages so many writers globally to take on the endeavor of writing their own cultivation novel. Case in point, yours truly.
Strangely, a Danish friend on discord was the one who introduced me to Chinese xianxia webnovels. Even as I was enjoying every second of it, I kept getting the sense that starting my cultivation journey with Reverend Insanity may have been a mistake. Imagine starting with C++ as your first coding language. Or technical death metal as your first guitar lesson. Or fugu as your introduction to sushi.
That’s not to say that Reverend Insanity is the most difficult or well-translated webnovel of them all. Far from it. But to call it edgy and unique is an understatement.
Reading Reverend Insanity as my first Xianxia novel, I could identify aspects of the tropes that were synonymous with the genre as a whole: the game-ified aspect of the level systems. The almost sociopathic Historian-like annotation of quantified values such as inspiration, dao marks, and other statuses and resources. One gets the feeling that Gu Zhen Ren as a human, and not an author, barely feels any emotions himself as he writes “his heart sank rock-bottom” for the millionth time. Perhaps he was just on autopilot as he was releasing these chapters, but seriously, if I had one suggestion for the author personally, it’s that continuously just saying the vicissitudes of Gu Immortals’ moodswings does NOT make for absorbing reading, it kills the pace and comes off as filler observation!
But these flaws don’t really come more apparent until the late Zombie arc chapters, which are infamous on the english-speaking reddit community for being drawn out and also an arc where many readers tragically lose interest and even drop the novel.
No, what continually fascinated me and KEPT ME READING the most was this feature: The absolutely horrific parallels of a dystopian, legalist and dog-eat-dog, cut-throat Chinese society reflected in Gu Zhen Ren’s small but intricately crafted Qing Mao mountain. I remember at the time that I started reading Reverend Insanity, I had long finished the Russian Author Dmitry Glukhovsky’s last book in the Metro series Metro 2035, and had praised it for its mature understanding of human wretchedness and its tendency for fascism, totalitarianism and need to control even when nearly all of the human population had been nuked. I remember raving to my Danish friend that “this guy is a Chinese Dmitry Glukhovsky!”
But in actuality, Gu Zhen Ren is simply a Chinese man who is well aware of history. If you do not have an understanding of Chinese history or idioms, I feel that you are missing out greatly on your pleasure from reading, although perhaps not by much, seeing the many loyal fans of this novel. However, the first two-hundred chapters are absolutely a joy to read, with many idioms as well as historical references to not just the corruption in the CCP, but also throughout ALL of China’s long and bloody history of scheming and politicking.
I understand an intriguing, almost novel charm behind reading Reverend Insanity for most Western readers is the knowledge that the author and his work has been banned in Mainland China. In fact, this was another element that compelled me to keep reading, as I enjoyed pointing out parts where “oh, THAT’s a ban-worthy indictment of a paragraph there!”). While the circumstances behind his ban will never be completely clear (my Chinese friends did some digging and found dubious news articles claiming that he “illegally” begged for money on a livestreaming or book event), I assure you that linking this webnovel’s ban to simply being a critique of the current Chinese government is simplistic and shallow.
Reverend Insanity’s first two hundred chapters is not only a 1984 set in ancient fantasy China, but also an obese naked lady flashing her ta-tas and taking a smelly squat on Chinese culture itself. The very writing and observations made about Gu Master society is almost transgressive against Chinese historical society, as it serves as a massive critique of convoluted, pretentious Confucian and legalist norms (illustrated through the hypocrisy of the Righteous sects). There is a sense that one, as a Chinese, is reading something sinful, in seeing how hypocritical clan members are towards not just outsiders, but towards their competing brothers or rivals. The reddit page likes to meme about the “life lessons” which Fang Yuan bestows upon the readers, but there are no shortages of phone screenshot-worthy passages about human nature and history that you’ll want to share with your friends to get them into cultivation novels too.
In my opinion, Gu Zhen Ren is not being scathing in his critique of the events and people that have colored Chinese history. On the contrary, I would argue that he is being utterly respectful of it, by paying clear tribute to it by demonstrating his understanding of what happened by superimposing its patterns onto his fictional world and characters.
If I had a theory for Reverend Insanity being banned, it would have less to do with direct critique of the CCP and more so with the absolute damning condemnation of human nature itself. China as a powerhouse of censorship is more concerned than other world governments (in certain ways and values) with “moral corruption” of its citizens, a concept that Westerners from countries with (allegedly) free speech find alien. At worse, they would find it arbitrary and wholly easy to abuse, which of course, it totally is! But knowing that China operates with “morality” in mind, I’m trying to help you understand (agree) that with Reverend Insanity’s expert peeling back the layers and exposing of human greed, deceit and selfishness, you can understand from the viewpoint of a “Daddy China” why he would find it quite concerning for their readers to be exposed to such content.
Nothing is sacred or immune from critique! The absolutely debilitating concept of face in Chinese society? The repressive hierarchy of power in clans and sects? The nepotism and corruption that festers underneath the guise of order and righteousness? The selfish drive for self-gain and benefits that underlies the motivations of every sentient being? It is all there, and then some. Oh, and Jade beauties and children get murdered.
Yes, Reverend Insanity is edgy. That’s okay, everyone enjoys edgy things when they’re executed in moderation. Reverend Insanity is by no means excessive in its gore, as once we move on from the first Arc and into later realms where Fang Yuan and his foes become much more powerful, the narrative atmosphere loses its sense of rustic, corporeal connection with mountain water-painting, provincial China. The infamous bear-killing meme is in my opinion completely exaggerated in how “brutal” it is, and considering how many deaths Xianxia heroes live through or commit themselves, I really don’t empathize with the haters who drop the novel at this point. In my opinion, the final, most gristly murders are conducted early in the story with the death of the twin children, afterwards, there really aren’t any more memorable deaths that truly cause one to puke in moral disgust.
Had Gu Zhen Ren simply chose to end Reverend Insanity on the final 199th chapter of the first book, where Fang Yuan and Bai Ning Bing set out on their uncertain journey towards immortality, I would have no doubt that it would be the best “short” Xianxia book of all time. That’s how good the first book is, it is a masterpiece as a critique of historical parallels, and in inventiveness. The Gu system first introduced itself as Pokemon on ‘roids, and reading about the individual features and weaknesses of each Gu was an absolute joy in the first book.
However, as in later arcs, particularly during the start of the Zombie arc, is where the Gu get… weird. This is also uncoincidentally where things began to get boring for most readers, and certainly for myself.
Depending on how you view it, Gu Zhen Ren adheres to the maxim of “show, don’t tell” with utmost discipline. In his translated works, he never once offers us the narrators’ personal appraisal or opinion on the value of an action beyond a superficial “This was a really good thing! It put a smile on so-and-so’s face!” Unlike Er Gen, Gu Zhen Ren is almost barren in metaphors, analogies and narrative sugar. He delivers his caffeine to you cold, straight, and bitter.
This style was tolerable during the first book because of the myriad allusions to dystopian, legalist China and the sheer fascinating content of what the reader is discovering at first: how Gu works, the rich lore paralleled by its own in-fiction legend Ren Zu’s tales, and so on. But after 600 chapters, Gu Zhen Ren’s writing, just like Fang Yuan himself, undergoes a transformation.
The Gu descriptions become cold, almost lazy. Gu feels like it’s invented out of thin air sometimes by the author. No longer were Gu limited to the traditional elements found in nature, or simple object reality, but also abstract concepts…entities and objects that we can’t really picture in our heads. Concepts such as Information Gu, for example, could be critiqued as the author being lazy at worst, but creative at best, as an alternative to traditional Jade slips as is so common in the genre.
Consequently, the battles, which from this point on rely on a combination of Gu called “Killer moves” are less… tangible and easy to envision, almost becoming representational of abstract concepts such as Star path Gu and Luck path Gu.
As with most Xianxia novels, combat is an absolute chore to read, and it certainly was the least enjoyable aspect for me to read overall in Reverend Insanity. In the first book, battles were scarce, skillfully placed in the plot in between intrigue, build-up and suspense. When that final climactic battle on Qing Mao battle between two Rank Fives erupted, I took the translator’s suggestion and actually did read the final battle chapters listening to epic Xianxia “Chinese” music (and it was awesome).
From the Zombie Arc onwards, battles are plentiful, but suffer from the bland, writer-talking-to-himself trait that I mentioned earlier that is so common of Chinese webnovels. I never get the feeling that Gu Zhen Ren is writing to maintain my interest, to make me. as the reader, wowed and impressed, so much as himself just putting down on paper what happened during a tabletop battle between his Daoist figurines.
The issue with too many killer moves being read after another is that the Chinese names of these moves, while they may sound elegant and inventive in their native language, sound bland and again, abstract in English. English is not an ancient, monosyllabic language, it cannot completely visually or linguistically capture the awesomeness of a move like… oh wait, I can’t remember any, because they’re NOT memorable! Other than Strength Path Myriad Self, that’s really the last killer move kept secure in the back of my memory inventory.
Nevertheless, I pushed on through the Zombie Arc, intent on rediscovering and experiencing the joy I felt when I read the first book.
The excitement and “Oh SHIIIEET” moments are still there. They just pop up less often, sandwiched in-between long, drawn-out battle sequences and “politicking” scenes.
Gu Zhen Ren’s approach to politicking is less well-organized and planned in the later books than the first one, as he appears to be on autopilot as he’s releasing chapter after chapter from this point onwards. In the back of his writerly subconscious, he understands that the exposing and exploration of human politics is partially what earned him so many fans and keeps them coming back, such as myself, so he still attempts to include examples of deceit, betrayal, and economic finessing of one another, and so on. However, as I just stated, the buildup to the payoff is less gratifying, in fact, the payoff no longer becomes the revealing of some universal human vice or flaw such as greed, but this switches places and becomes the buildup itself. Instead, Gu Zhen Ren treats the politicking of the Gu World as little throwbacks to the origin of the novel, while making the emotional pay-offs in the later books the killing of an important character.
This could be a temporary ally, or a powerful, OP foe of Fang Yuan’s, and while this is usually standard Xianxia webnovel formula, for me personally it is a less exciting and rewarding payoff than what the first book offered me.
But overtime, it was a pattern that I recognized and was willing to accept. I had to train myself to adapt to this new style that the writing direction has headed towards. Reading became a noticeable endeavor, instead of an instant pick-me-up page-turner I-can’t-stop-reading hobby, as I had to push past myriad of killer move text and names of minor characters half-assedly scheming to each other to reach the final conclusion of one Sect getting pwned by Fang Yuan or one of his enemies or victims getting sent to the door of life and death.
At work or on the toilet, I’d make it my goal to read at least one chapter, especially if it was a battle or trading-of-resources scene, so that I’d be one chapter closer to the payoff. The good stuff.
This leads to another flaw: While the first book was expertly crafted with cliffhanger after cliffhanger, the later books abandon this time-proven and successful tool of webnovels. This further leads me to theorize that Gu Zhen Ren was on autopilot writer mode during that period, but this is just something that I’ve personally taken away: never underestimate the value of your cliffhangers in your cultivation novels. They probably could have made the difference between a few months to two years of reading for me.
Several magic things occur when a writer is on autopilot, however. The most famous example of this is probably Stephen King, who has trained himself to churn decent, highly readable and still interesting plots while writing on autopilot. With Gu Zhen Ren, while the writing craftsmanship (the inventiveness, planning, riveting dialogue and so on) take a dive during autopilot mode, the introspection and philosophizing really becomes the new stars here.
I view the abstract nature of intangible Gu such as Luck path and Wisdom Gu as a form of meditation, and the author’s attempt to, if not philosophize- at least identify and quantify how our world works at a fundamental, if not vastly simplified level. This is where things get autistic, the Chinese author’s need originating from his gaming tendencies to quantify units and resources, and this extends to emotions and literally plot-altering (and therefore world-shaking) entities such as luck and fate itself.
During the pivotal fate arc, I got the sense that Gu Zhen Ren was really contemplating the nature of stories themselves, the plot between Red Lotus Venerable and Heavenly Court indicative of metanarratives or stories that become aware of themselves. To fight against Fate, for example, is really characters fighting against the predetermined, Calvinistic path of their role in the story, right? They want to be able to fight against certain death or an unwanted role in this life, is that not an epic premise for a story or what?
I absolutely love how Gu Zhen Ren brings back the Venerables to life, as actual, larger-than-life figures that now actively compete with the main character for supremacy, where they were simply legendary characters mentioned in the background in earlier books. Learning about their backstories and their primary motivations was really fun, it felt like taking a time-travel device to famous historical heroes or generals in the past and actually learning about the legends on a personal level. And subsequently, they become the greatest, most interesting antagonists in the story since Qing Mao mountain! The cycle of treachery and warfare between the Venerables is nothing short of something from the classic Chinese novel Three Kingdoms. It goes beyond Immortal rock-paper-scissors, it is the most exciting arc after the long dragged-out assault on Heavenly Court.
Which is why it is so tragic, yet perhaps poetic that Gu Zhen Ren halted writing of the Venerable showdown at Chapter 2334? I don’t give a damn that he’s been “banned from writing it,” he could still be writing it, but he’s choosing not to. No doubt, he’s lost that autopilot which he is now trying to overcome with surprising us fans with a finale worth waiting for, so therefore more George S.S. Martin than Stephen King, but for now, it’s been three years as of this writing. Fans are impatiently waiting the next chapter, amusing themselves with memes on the reddit page, and whatnot.
Do the fans overhype and overplay how Reverend Insanity is? Kind of. As I repeated a million times, the first book is truly a masterpiece, the finest introduction to a unique and realistic Xianxia world. Will it really help you get out of that slump, land you a new job, and a girl to boot? Well, after two years of being single, Reverend Insanity didn’t do that for me, but I am finally breaking into an IT career next week as of this writing.
Now, to answer the essential review questions:
Does it serve as a good introduction to Xianxia? Yes. But it might increase your standards of the genre to the point where you will not tolerate garbage.
Will it inspire you to read more webnovels? Yes, of course.
Will it inspire you to write? It inspired me. As long as you believe you have what it takes in yourself to write something not necessarily intelligent, but as (or even more) edgy, then hell yes.
Is it a worthy investment of your time and attention as a reader? Certainly. Just don’t drag it out for two years like I did. Aside from really four instances where I remembered myself reading one hundred chapters in a burst, on average I timed myself to read only ten chapters per hour.
Does it have an abnormally large non-Chinese fanbase with copious memes of varying quality? YES.
Now go read it.
