Tu Shanjun stood dazed in the open field at the edge of the village.
He had just transmigrated to this world. Before the wounds of his new body had even healed, he was driven out to the village entrance like a duck being herded to slaughter.
The scorching summer sun blazed overhead, the heat so intense it could melt gold and crack stone.
After standing for just a short while, his weakened body began to waver, barely able to stay upright.
Drenched in cold sweat, he staggered slightly.
The blame, after all, lay with the original body’s injuries, leaving Tu Shanjun to suffer the consequences.
He reached up and gently touched the wound on his head, letting out a quiet sigh.
The horseman who had caused the injury had vanished without a trace, leaving him to bear the aftermath alone with nothing but the meager possessions of a peasant.
He had grown up eating from every family’s bowl, no savings to speak of. Now unable to work, he relied on the goodwill of his neighbors just to get by.
According to the Old Village Chief, today something important would be announced, even the injured were required to attend.
Tempted by a bowl of thick porridge and half a white flour bun, Tu Shanjun made his way to the gathering.
How big of a deal could it really be in a place like this? He was just here to make up the numbers.
Rituals, conscription, taxes… those things were still far off.
What he really needed to think about was how he would survive in the days to come.
As the saying goes, “a half-grown boy eats his father into poverty.”
If he kept relying on his neighbors, they’d start to resent him sooner or later.
Everyone here scraped their living from the dirt, no household had any surplus grain to spare.
Tu Shanjun looked around.
Every villager was present, none absent. One had to admit, the Old Village Chief's still held considerable influence.
Of course, that white flour bun the size of a child’s fist had certainly helped.
“Ahem, I’ve called everyone here today because there’s a matter of great importance to announce,” the Village Chief cleared his throat before speaking.
The village loafer standing near the gate stuffed his hands into his sleeves, curiosity lighting his face. Just what could be so important that every household was given a white flour bun?
“Old Village Chief, don’t keep us guessing! Since we’re all here, tell us what this big matter is!”
“Yeah, tell us already!”
Villagers weren’t the most knowledgeable bunch, but they were loud and lively when gathered.
Old women gossiped in clusters, and the farmers exchanged greetings.
Even the infamous village loafer, who usually lounged around at home, had stirred himself.
A gathering like this was rare, if he could use the chance to court a wife, all the better.
“An Immortal Master has come to stay in our village. It was he who asked me to summon everyone,” the Village Chief finally revealed, glancing toward the locust tree behind him.
Following his gaze, the villagers only now noticed the dark shadow beneath the tree.
It was as if they had all unconsciously ignored the figure standing there, no one had noticed his presence.
Tu Shanjun's eyes widened, his previously dazed gaze sharpening.
His tired frame unconsciously straightened.
"An Immortal Master?!"
This meant, this world might actually be one of cultivation and supernatural powers.
He had likely transmigrated into a world where cultivators existed.
Cultivation, immortality, the Great Dao...
Confusion and helplessness swirled within him, mixed with awe, joy and a hidden fear.
His frail body trembled.
Under the sweltering sun, a cold sweat trickled down his back, soaking his clothes.
He wasn’t sure if this truly was a world of cultivation.
Deep down, he was afraid.
Anyone who understood the law of the jungle would know cultivation was, at its core, a path of devouring.
In his previous life, he was hardly exceptional. Could he really tread this thorny path that only looked smooth on the surface?
"Can I really do it?"
A new world, a new life, could he truly become someone who stood among the elite?
"I can!"
Tu Shanjun forced himself to believe, as if his own words could hold him back from retreat.
Never before had he desired something so fiercely, like a starving beast craving flesh, it was pure instinct.
A life not in his own hands could only breed fear.
But fear, the most primal of human emotions, could also be a wellspring of strength.
In any world, becoming stronger was never the wrong choice.
[System Panel: Locked]
Tu Shanjun stared blankly at the pale blue interface that floated before him, bound in chains.
It resembled a game system panel but it was still locked.
"A cheat!"
Tu Shanjun’s eyes lit up with joy. As expected, ninety-nine percent of transmigrators had cheats!
Now that he had one, his panic eased. He looked more composed.
But he didn’t approach the Immortal Master who radiated danger.
That man’s appearance was anything but kind.
Emerging from the shadows, the so-called Immortal Master stood about five-foot-eight, face as pale as gold leaf, cheeks sunken.
His fierce eyes were dull, wounded. Gravely wounded.
His black robe was tattered and stained with dried blood.
His triangular eyes narrowed slightly as he revealed a chilling grin.
Tu Shanjun shuddered. His sharpened gaze turned wary and alert.
Something felt very wrong. The Immortal Master looked at them like a predator sizing up livestock.
When those eyes swept over him, his eyelid twitched uncontrollably, his dread intensified.
What kind of Immortal looks like this?
Shouldn’t they be sage-like, white-haired with youthful faces, exuding otherworldly grace?
Even if not, they should at least appear refined.
If this man truly was an Immortal, he definitely wasn’t from any righteous sect.
Loose cultivators and demonic cultivators were no different, both were dangerous thugs.
"Three Pure Ones protect me, Bodhisattva bless me. Keep me safe..."
Tu Shanjun forced himself to breathe deeply, suppressing his fear. He had to stay calm, he couldn’t scare himself to death.
Retreat was already in his mind.
He had a system, there was no need to risk contact with this so-called Immortal. If he had to, he should seek out someone from the righteous path, not this obvious villain.
His expression grew solemn as he silently stepped back, hiding among the crowd.
Head lowered, he watched the black-robed Immortal from the corner of his eye.
If anything went wrong, he’d need a head start to escape.
But first, he needed to figure out this Immortal's intentions.
“An Immortal! I can’t believe one would come to our village!”
“The legendary Immortal Master…”
“It really is a great event. If we gain Immortal fate…”
The villagers were both awed and overjoyed, disbelief on their faces.
They’d only heard rumors, never seen an Immortal with their own eyes.
The young men who occasionally ventured into the city would boast about encountering Immortal Masters, but everyone had laughed it off as nonsense.
If this was truly an Immortal Master, could he help us cleanse the haunted burial grounds? Due to its age, the haunted burial grounds had become infested with foul things.
“You’ve worked hard,”
The triangular-eyed Immortal patted the Old Village Chief on the shoulder and smiled cruelly at the villagers.
“You’ve all worked hard as well.”
“I have come… to bestow upon you a great fortune.”
Tu Shanjun clearly saw the Village Chief freeze like a statue, motionless.
His eyes went dull, his thin body like withered wood.
“It’s a trap!”
Tu Shanjun’s expression shifted dramatically. He turned and bolted without hesitation.
Bang!
He crashed into something invisible, his head spun, stars dancing before his eyes.
Though nothing was there, he felt like he’d hit an iron wall.
“Array.”
“Rise!”
The demonic cultivator flicked his sleeve.
A black banner with crimson edges flew out and unfurled midair, growing to over ten feet tall.
From it, shadowy barriers rose on all sides, slowly turning gray with black smoke.
The demonic cultivator raised his longsword, blood was drawn the instant it left its scabbard.
The Village Chief’s head rolled from his hunched body, blood spraying like a fountain. The smell of iron filled the array.
“AHH!”
Screams of terror finally jolted the villagers from their daze.
“He’s killing people!”
“The Village Chief is dead!”
Panic erupted. They pushed and shoved like headless chickens, crashing into each other.
But no one could escape.
Tu Shanjun had already tested the way out, the transparent wall sealed them all in.
Above them, the black banner spun, absorbing gray shadows rising from the dead.
Then came the slaughter.
The demonic cultivator killed them like livestock, his sword never stopping.
Soon, blood flowed like a stream. Corpses piled into small mounds.
Nearly two hundred villagers couldn't even last the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.
The demonic cultivator’s face twisted with madness. Spattered in blood, his grin grew even more deranged.
Tu Shanjun cowered against the wall, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.
Curled up, his mind raced frantically, desperately searching for a way to defeat the demonic cultivator.
“System! Is there a starter pack?!”
“Some instant power-up?”
“A lottery draw at the beginning?”
“A pill to save me from certain death?”
“You damn system, I’m gonna die here!”
“…”
No matter how he called, the pale blue panel remained locked.
As he widened his eyes in desperation, the demonic cultivator, now done with the slaughter approached him.
A shadow fell over him as the crazed face loomed above, twisted and terrifying.
“Your turn.”
“You’re a little different, aren’t you?”
“Perfect. It just so happens that this Soul Banner of mine still lacks a main soul.”
“You seem clever. I hope you survive the process.”
The demonic cultivator laughed cruelly, raising his sword.
(Chapter End)