Baldur's Gate? Faerûn? Toril?

A rich man is a man, a poor man is difficult!

Zhang Yuan, whose family was considered prosperous, had never really worried about money, relying on his parents' financial support and his own part-time jobs.

With no bad habits and not being extravagant, he hadn't experienced the taste of being broke and hungry for a long time.

Zhang Yuan subconsciously felt his pockets and was a little surprised to find that all his belongings had come with him to this world.

But in this bustling street center, with people coming and going, he wouldn't dare to take them out carelessly. Not to mention that if his out-of-place items attracted thieves, it would be even worse if they attracted those curious mages who liked to get to the bottom of things.

"I need to find a place to stay," Zhang Yuan thought to himself. "Hmm? My 'birthplace' seems good, it's an abandoned hut and the surroundings are quiet." Feeling the curious glances from others about his "strange clothes," Zhang Yuan hurried towards the hut where he had woken up.

After entering the house, he casually closed the broken wooden door and even bolted it. Finally feeling a sense of security, he couldn't wait to turn out all his pockets. After confirming that all items were out, he began to take stock of his meager possessions in this world.

A wallet containing a pile of scrap paper and old cards, a fully charged mobile phone, a Swiss Army knife, a dull "dogleg" knife he bought for playing with, a pen, a set of useless keys, a handful of euro coins, a bottle of alcohol disinfectant, a pack of five medical masks, and cold medicine.

"This is probably the only good thing that came from the epidemic, making sure that transmigration travelers always have medicine on hand," Zhang Yuan thought wryly.

Using the scissors on his Swiss Army knife, he cut off the brand logo from his coat to make it less conspicuous, then he started thinking about the coins. He wondered if the currency system here was like in games and novels, with gold, silver, and copper coins.

Even if they couldn't pass as currency, maybe they could be sold as art. Zhang Yuan began to plot his own little scheme.

As for the risks? Starving to death, being forced to death by a single coin, that was the biggest risk at the moment.

Moreover, who knew how many civilizations had been born on the continent of Faerûn, and how many undiscovered ruins lay beneath the ground. A few novelties wouldn't be too eye-catching. Of course, if you pulled out a smartphone and openly played videos, that would be a huge problem. Having made up his mind, Zhang Yuan carefully put away all the scattered items he had taken out, pushed the door open, and headed straight for the city center.

The urgent task was to figure out where he was, or even if he was on the continent of Faerûn. If he had crossed into the wrong dimension, it would be even more troublesome.

Arriving at the edge of the city center square, not far from the bakery that sold meat pies and bread, Zhang Yuan casually pretended to be aimlessly wandering and strolled over to a group of people chatting.

"The grain prices have gone up again lately. I heard it's all because of those green giant worms. Many farmers have abandoned their farms, and the fields are lying fallow," complained an old man in gray cloth.

"Yeah, I heard we're doing okay here. After all, Baldur's Gate is one of the few port cities on the Sword Coast, so we can at least buy grain from other places. It's miserable for places like Beregost or Nashkel," chimed in a young man in green clothes.

Fortunately, thanks to the "Tongue of the Planes" function that came with the system import, Zhang Yuan had no trouble understanding what they were talking about.

Sword Coast? Beregost? Baldur's Gate? The other shoe finally dropped. He had finally confirmed his guess. The land beneath his feet was indeed Faerûn, and the city he was in was none other than the famous—Baldur's Gate!

Since it was Baldur's Gate, could some of the information he gained from the game be useful? What stage was the current timeline in?

Suppressing the many thoughts in his mind, Zhang Yuan decided to do one important thing first—make money!

Since he had decided to sell those few coins, he naturally had to find a suitable buyer to get a good price. After much thought, this kind of "craftsmanship" wouldn't be very suitable to sell to mages or in general stores.

Zhang Yuan's brows were furrowed. He racked his brain for a long time before remembering a quest he had done in the game, which involved dealing with a collector.

The crucial clue came from an adventurer captain, the owner of the Cloak and Helm of Baldur's Gate. Of course, with the prefix "former" added, because that unlucky group of adventurers had already turned into lifelike stone statues by the time the protagonist encountered them.

The collector in the game lived on the edge of the city center square, but in the real Baldur's Gate, such a large city, how could it possibly be represented by the scenes in the game?

The specific location was hard to estimate, let alone whether such a person even existed in reality.

The problem had come full circle again. How to obtain firsthand information in this strange world?

As a shut-in, Zhang Yuan wasn't very keen on interacting with people, but as an international student who had lived abroad for several years, he didn't lack experience in dealing with strangers.

Ignoring the non-human species mixed in the crowd, Zhang Yuan felt no different looking at these blonde, blue-eyed people than he did at Hans' house, except for the smell... hmm.

He quickly took out a mask and put it on, while also moving away from the houses. Having read interesting anecdotes about European medieval history, he was truly afraid that someone would suddenly throw a chamber pot from the second floor, dousing him in the scent of night-blooming jasmine.

While following the crowd and thinking about how to strike up a conversation with others, Zhang Yuan suddenly stopped. The corner of his eye caught sight of a good show.

Not far away, a young boy stood beside an easel with his arms spread wide, seemingly arguing about something, or perhaps defending himself. His face wore the kind of wronged expression that could often be seen on ambitious (or perhaps pretentious) youths who felt misunderstood.

As Zhang Yuan walked closer, he could gradually hear the boy's argument.

"This is the new Impressionist style! I specifically studied it in Waterdeep!" the young man exclaimed, gesturing wildly, trying to recommend his artistic concept to a well-dressed, neat, but expressionless young man.

By the time Zhang Yuan reached them, he could clearly see this "Impressionist masterpiece." While not grand, the city of Baldur's Gate, depicted in a way that made it look like a blockhouse built by children, was quite striking.

Only by the ruler-like saw marks on the wall could he barely connect it to the concept of city walls. Honestly, if it weren't for the words "Winter in Baldur's Gate" written next to the signature, he wouldn't have recognized what the painting was of.

While Zhang Yuan was still silently criticizing, the well-dressed young man took out a few tarnished copper coins and threw them beside the palette, saying impatiently, "I don't want this painting anymore. These few copper coins are for your trouble."

The painter's face turned red, veins bulging on his forehead, and he argued, "How can art be measured by labor fees?"

Then came incomprehensible words, such as "the main schools of Impressionism" and "the mainstream trends of modern art."

Listening to this, Zhang Yuan shook his head inwardly. "He's still young, naive, and his knowledge level needs improvement. A small painter expects the customer's aesthetic judgment to adapt to his level? I feel embarrassed for you."

Ignoring the art enthusiast's incessant chatter, Zhang Yuan strode forward with quick steps to the young customer and said loudly, "Please forgive my intrusion. Would you be interested in appreciating my artwork?"

Hearing this, the customer, who was about to leave, stopped. A pair of rather narrow and sharp eyes fixed on Zhang Yuan as he appraised the stranger who had inexplicably approached him. "Black hair and black eyes are quite rare. Your clothes are also novel, but art isn't just about being weird and unusual."

Perhaps out of politeness, or perhaps out of curiosity towards a "stranger," this gentleman showed sufficient patience to the uninvited Zhang Yuan.

Seizing the opportunity, Zhang Yuan had no time for suspense and decisively took out an item from his pocket.