“Whatta bunch of garbage.”

The young man wiped his greasy fingers on a paper napkin and continued scrolling through the forums on his holographic device. Next to him, an android buzzed around cleaning his desk and bringing laboratory-grown strawberries with whipped cream. Technology really does make a man lazy.

“Did they leave their brains in a jar instead of connecting them to the Starnet?” he asked and glanced at the android. It blinked blankly at him.

“Nevermind, you.” He pointed at his strawberries, “Bring some more. And use organic condensed milk instead.”

The android took his plate and left, walking in an awkward motion.

“Can you believe this? Three warriors who took over the world but lacked proper training and never touched any manuals during their prime. Not to mention they somehow overpowered their douche of a sect leader when they basically had no core whatsoever,” mumbled the young man, riled by the made-up story he was reading. “Can you actually believe this?”

The tale detailed a man by the name of Tian Hua, who was, as depicted by a user on the forum, an infamous hypocrite; any other adjective with negative connotations also fitted him. He had scammed many during his lifetime and manipulated his disciples into working for him as if they were his slaves, tricking them into believing it would help their cultivation. It certainly did not.

Tian Hua and his three loyal disciples were living in a time when Qi was abundant and found about anywhere. One day, after having been humiliated for two years, the disciples cornered Tian Hua and deservedly tormented and slaughtered him, somehow—because, how could three teenagers with no cultivation to back them up put to death a sect leader? Did he miss something vital?

“Well, whatever, it’s not as if it’s true, so.” He promptly closed his tabs, completely disregarding the explicit ads he was getting for some reason. “I also got a virus from that bullshit website. Great.”

The android marched to his room just as awkwardly as before, holding victoriously the plate with glistening strawberries, the viscous condensed milk dripping down the fruits in the most delicious way.

“Oh, I’ve been craving this for so long….” He reached for the plate and, as the android was about to hand it to him, it suddenly halted its movements.

“Um, it’s okay, you can give it now,” he tried, yet his words were ignored. It stood stiff and unresponsive, and the yellow eyes, which had constantly been flitting around and analyzing its surroundings before, were gradually losing color.

“Ugh, not again,” he sighed and moved his fingers on the holographic device. “I’m sending you right to the junkyard after this—”

Unexpectedly, it wrapped its hand around his forearm, causing the man’s heart to race and his breath to catch in his throat. Given how old this android was, going through abrupt resets of its system every now and then was something he had long become accustomed to. However, the small detail that differed from the previous times was how quick the android stirred back into motion. That was very unusual.

“You up?” he waved his hand in front of the android’s face. No answer. The unblinking eyes remained glued to the floor. “Weird….”

In a sudden display of malfunction, the android’s circuit sputtered and sparked, causing it to convulse in an erratic dance. Electricity surged through its metallic frame, crackling with an eerie energy. Obviously, a surge of power arced from the android, the jolt of electricity coursing through his body. He struggled for a short while, before his neurochip became completely fried.

He blacked out.

 

. . . . .

 

Our protagonist began his journey somewhere in a world unknown to him.

Once he was wide awake, he recoiled and involuntarily tensed his muscles, rubbing his reddened, probably blistering skin, an unfruitful attempt at soothing his pain.

Except… his skin was unnaturally pale and unblemished, yet phantom pain lingered. He was wearing white robes, decorated with delicate, intricately embroidered willow branches. The robes seemed to embody the purity and tranquility of a secluded garden—excluding the part about how musty and sooty they were.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, his eyes scanned the room, searching for any semblance of familiarity.

This was not his house.

In fact, the place he had been sleeping in was anything but a house. It was incredibly dilapidated, with cobwebs adorning every corner and there was an unusual smell permeating the air. His back ached horribly and one glance at the straw mat underneath him quickly answered his questions.

Still, where was he?

Rubbing his temples, he attempted to piece together the fragments of his consciousness. How did he end up here? Who did this house belong to? What even happened to the damned android? Was he the one sent to a junkyard in its stead? Questions swirled in his mind like a flurry of autumn leaves, but the answers remained elusive.

Someone knocked on the door of the house urgently, before slamming it open, ripping it off its hinges and sending it directly on the floor. Well, that barely resembled a door, too, with how blackened and rotten it looked.

“Get outta here! I told ya to sleep here only for one night! Not an entire week!” The man looked unkempt and his long, black hair was unwashed and kept in a bun. “Gotta pay more now, schmuck!”

What the hell? He stared at the man with an unbelieving expression on his face.

His shocked silence seemed to further anger the man. His cheeks flushed immediately and he roared, “Get out and never come back!”

Looking at the direction he was pointing—the door, or rather the place where it once was—he bolted out of there, disregarding the string of insults addressed to him and his next thirty-something generations spat out in the distance.

His steps faltered soon, however, as he gaped at the view before him.

The streets were paved with smooth cobblestones, lined with quaint houses constructed from timber and stone, and their rooftops were adorned with colorful glazed tiles. Flowering vines cascaded from the eaves, adding a touch of vibrancy to the town’s serene ambiance. Paper lanterns illuminated the surroundings, casting a warm glow on the town’s picturesque buildings. He darted his sight to one in particular, on which was written ‘sun’.

Locals gathered on the streets, exchanging stories, laughing and chit-chatting with one another. Even more flocked to the stalls, inns or eateries.

A gentle breeze blew and he brought a hand to his ear; his former body was, unfortunately, incredibly sensitive to the cold.

Hair.

Luscious, healthy hair.

His fingers patted his head curiously, then down his neck, then down his back, then down his waist.

Luscious, healthy and long hair.

Curious about his appearance, he walked around until he reached a humble stall selling hand mirrors.

“Only 5 coppers, sir, only 5 coppers! Quite the deal, quite the deal!” The merchant was giving his undivided attention to another customer, allowing the young man to take a mirror and stare dumbly at himself.

Usually, individuals with implanted neurochips who had entered comatose states would begin to experience vivid and immersive dreams, contrary to the typical loss of consciousness associated with coma. Neurochips played a crucial role in maintaining brain activity during comatose states. Many claimed to have been able to interact with deceased loved ones or encounter entirely new and fantastical landscapes.

However, he had felt the neurochip malfunction moments prior to waking up in this world. The possibility that it somehow survived the electric power traveling through his body was slim.

He gave a cool nod at the reflection gazing back at him and innocently placed the mirror back, making sure to keep the cool facade. With brisk steps, he continued down the bustling streets of the town, searching for a place to satiate his hunger. His mind, on the other hand, was in a complete state of chaos.

As much as I want to believe I’m dreaming right now, I’m more than certain that I’m not.

His feet faltered once he faced the ‘Lotus Pavilion’, a charming restaurant nestled between two other ones, ‘Divine Lotus’ and ‘Lotus Blossom’.

Business must be competitive, he thought, comparing the identical designs of the restaurants and finding little to no differences. The windows of the ‘Lotus Pavilion’ were obscured by grime and neglect, however; looking at his own clothes, he touched around his inner robes until his fingers brushed against three copper coins, stored inside a hidden pocket.

This should be enough for a meal. Or a snack. I hope I won’t die from food poisoning, though.

He set foot inside the restaurant, immediately being greeted by the sight of a couple slurping noodles, the only customers of the eatery.

He selected a table in the back, some distance away from the window and the couple. As he settled into the wooden chair, his back ached horribly, so much so that he had to stifle a groan.

A waiter approached with a half-assed bow and presented the menu, highlighting the restaurant’s signature dish: lotus seed buns. After a thoughtful pause, the waiter even offered him a discount, apparently recognizing him as a ‘man of wisdom and power’. The clothing must have had an effect to some degree, because how could a dirty, smelly man be the epitome of mightiness?

He was served the lotus seed buns, along with some lotus root chips and rice as an appetizer. He appreciated the delicate balance of flavors and savored each crispy bite, lifting his chopsticks to bite into the buns and wolf down the rice.

Food was necessary for him to think more clearly and regain some of his lost vitality.

The waiter lingered around anxiously, yet he paid him no mind, too starved to give importance to the man.

“Say, are you an immortal?” inquired the waiter, looking him up and down.

Immortal? His chopsticks stopped immediately. Don’t tell me…

The waiter interpreted his silence as hesitancy and suspicion. Not wishing to create an enemy of this stranger, he stammered to continue his words, “I, I’m only… You see, there’s been an influx of immortals recently and because of your apparel, I assumed you must be part of a sect, sir.”

He gave a cursory glance at the waiter. Oh, I know exactly what you’re talking about.

His body was much too weak for an immortal. Still, he gave it a try and summoned all of the Qi he could to probe around in his veins and search for blockages or diseases that might’ve hindered his cultivation.

Yet, whenever he attempted to gather Qi, he could feel nothing.

Simply put, he was inhabiting the body of a mortal. However, he really cut the figure of an immortal—minus the filth.

Artificial Qi was much easier to maneuver and utilize, having been created to assist people in doing mundane tasks due to its lack of explosive power. In comparison, true Qi possessed the capability of altering the body and mind of humans; yet, this type of Qi went extinct long ago in his own world, and artificial Qi was merely too weak to be used in combat.

Nonetheless, considering his unfamiliarity with handling true Qi, he thought that, maybe, his body had belonged to a lofty immortal and he was only mistaken about not having a core.

He had definitely read about body possession in the past, but it had never been possible in his own world, not when true Qi was practically nonexistent. Artificial Qi could never achieve what its natural counterpart did a millennium ago.

Then, that begs the question—who and where the hell am I?

“Why do you ask?”

“There’s… this thing I was wondering, sir,” continued the waiter, barely holding himself back on elaborating.

“What is it?”

“What’s the deal with all these Zhengyi Sect kids patrolling around our town? Is there some loose monster around? Y’know, the type with horns and, and claws as big and as sharp as a sword?”

“...I am only passing by. I’m not sure,” he frowned, wondering whether monsters like that actually existed in this world.

“Oh, oh! I’m sorry ‘bout that. I figured you might know a thing or two,” the waiter wiped his face. “It’s just… I’m scared I’ll have to skip town with my wife and my Xiao… These sects have been bringing here numskulls time and time again, and lemme tell you, nothing’s changed. Our town’s the same old! Argh… I'm sick and tired of these sects acting like they’re doing anything good for us… They only care about themselves!” The waiter complained loudly, causing the couple to glance over curiously. “Ahem, anyways. Enough of that. Enjoy your meal.”

He thanked the waiter, shoving in his mouth another bun. Zhengyi… Where have I heard of that before?

As he sat there, engrossed in his thoughts and munching on food, a shiver crept down his spine. The realization hit him harder than a brick.

The story about the three warriors! The Zhengyi Sect was one of the most prominent sects in the cultivation world and housed notable prodigies, along with a powerful sect leader who was the host of a spiritual beast.

What was a spiritual beast anyway? He had skimmed through that part and could barely remember any significant detail, save for there being two sect leaders who were the hosts of such spiritual beasts, as well as the peak lord of another sect. Though, no matter how much he racked his brain in order to bring to remembrance relevant information regarding the three warriors, apart from their names, nothing came to mind.

Was it Long or Ling…? He thought, munching on the chips. Or what if it was something else entirely? I’m seriously starting to doubt my memory.

“Huh. Who’s that?” the woman asked her partner loudly the moment her eyes met a child’s, peering through the dirtied window.

He paused in the middle of chewing and followed the eyes of the couple, blanching immediately—because, despite being quite difficult to make out the child’s face features, it was very obvious he was the one being stared at by the youth.

What in the world…? He slowly rose from his chair and craned his neck, disbelief painted on his face. Their fragile frame seemed to fade into the background, making them blend seamlessly with the night. Yet, their piercing eyes, wide and unblinking, held a dark intensity that sent a chill down the man’s spine.

“Ugh, ‘nother one of them filthy punks!” the waiter grabbed a broom and stormed furiously out the restaurant. “You fool! You’re scaring my customers! I don’t have any food for you!”

He could vaguely hear the child replying something to the waiter, yet the words were immediately cut off by his yelling. “Were you the one who brought your friends to rob this place last time?! I know it has to be you! Little prick!”

The child scampered away, leaving the waiter to shake his broom in the air threateningly. “You better not come back, boy! Or else!”

“Just another beggar,” the woman a few tables away grumbled, dusting off her immaculate attire as if she was the one who had to drive away the child. Her partner inclined his head silently.

Hmm, with the Zhengyi Sect being in the area, how come people are just as, or maybe even more daring? He scratched his head and ate his last lotus seed bun. Aren’t immortals supposed to protect the people?

Pushing his chair away from the table, he left two copper coins (thanks to the discount) and made a beeline for the door, showing his gratitude for the waiter’s kindness one last time before continuing his journey.

 

. . . . .

 

Naturally, he had no idea where his journey would lead him to.

He was wishing to stumble upon a bathhouse or a disreputable inn to spend the night at for a copper. Even the forest floor seemed ideal.

But, never had he thought he’d reach a street littered with dead bodies and disciples of, he assumed, Zhengyi. One of them approached and stopped him, “This is an official order from Huoshen Peak’s Lord of the Zhengyi Sect. This area is under supervision and restricted from entry. Please find another route for the time being.”

The lack of blood splatters or wounds on the corpses was a bit perplexing. Were they poisoned? Did they succumb to an illness? Many questions to ponder on, yet not that much interest!

“I understand.” With the wit that no cannon fodder ever possessed in every book he used to read, he did not interrogate the disciple further, for fear of attracting unwanted attention to himself. Just look at that—how easy it was to remain lowkey!

A voice from behind. “Teacher! It is really you!”

Well, nevermind.