Refugees

Tianwu Dynasty.

The fifth year of Tianyou.

The sky was like fire, and the blazing sun hung high overhead. Not a wisp of cloud stretched across ten thousand miles.

There had been no rain for months. The land lay red and barren for a thousand miles, with not a blade of grass growing.

The five grains had failed, and the people's lives had withered away.

In years of famine and hunger, parents traded children for food.

On Nanning County's long street, the afterglow was like blood, spilling across the muddy ground and dyeing it crimson.

In the distance, a figure bent beneath a load of firewood drew closer step by step.

Gu Chang'an carried a heavy bundle of wood on his back. His shoulders sagged slightly, and his exhausted steps dragged slowly forward.

After a few steps, he stopped in front of a group of people.

They were members of the Firewood Gang.

Gu Chang'an slowly lowered the heavy firewood from his shoulder. His shoulders relaxed, but his body swayed faintly.

Someone stepped forward to weigh it.

"Master Zhang, take a look..." the man reported in a low voice.

The burly man leading them was around forty, his eyes cold as iron.

He did not even raise his eyelids before saying casually,

"Ninety pounds of firewood. Nine copper coins."

As soon as he finished speaking, he casually tossed a handful of copper coins from his hand. They clattered across the muddy ground, splashing specks of filthy water.

Gu Chang'an silently crouched down. His fingertips probed through the wet, slippery mud bit by bit, picking up the copper coins caked in grime.

After counting them, his brow furrowed—there were only seven coins.

The remaining two were the "customary fee" they had withheld.

No one explained, and no explanation was needed. That was the unwritten rule of this street.

Exploitation had never needed a reason.

"Spit. Capitalists." Gu Chang'an cursed inwardly, while his expression remained unchanged. He merely put away the copper coins with care.

Then he dragged his exhausted body back onto the road home.

On either side of the long street stood rows of low tile-roofed houses. Their walls were mottled, and cold wind seeped through the cracks in the blue bricks.

The air was thick with dampness and rot.

Ten days ago, he had not belonged to this world.

Back then, he had been a university graduate of the new age, young and ambitious, carrying dreams and preparing to carve out his own place amid the tides of information and technology.

But after waking from a single sleep, heaven and earth had turned upside down.

He had transmigrated.

He had come to this otherworld, where war raged without end and demons ran rampant, becoming a vagrant without even a household registration.

His original body had belonged to a refugee. A family of ten had endured countless hardships to reach Nanning County, yet none of them had survived. Only he had clung to life.

No—that was wrong. Even "he" had died.

What a godforsaken world...

Gu Chang'an had transmigrated into this world and taken over this body.

Fortunately, fate had not abandoned him completely. With the help of an old woodcutter, he had secured a job chopping firewood and could at least barely keep himself fed.

However, his life had not exactly improved.

He now lived in a dilapidated Mountain God Temple. At night, he could only curl up in a pile of straw, clutching several steamed buns frozen hard, and shiver himself to sleep.

In the past, he had fantasized about changing his fate with the knowledge from his previous life—gunpowder, glass, soap, fertilizer, and countless other technologies.

He had even thought of plagiarizing the Three Hundred Tang Poems and becoming a great poet.

Then one day, he personally saw a burly man smash a thousand-pound boulder with a bare fist. His body was like a fierce tiger, and the thunderous impact shook his ears.

That very night, he witnessed a demon charge into a village, devouring people like grass. Blood flowed in rivers, and the people could no longer live in peace.

After that, his fantasies were utterly shattered.

In this world, strength reigned supreme—

Later, he learned from some refugees that the martial artists of this world were divided into the Houtian Realm and the Xiantian Realm.

The Houtian Realm was further divided into nine ranks, with the ninth as the lowest and the first as the highest.

As for those legendary Xiantian experts, could they walk upon clouds, pluck stars, and seize the moon?

Gu Chang'an did not know.

He only knew that even the most basic Ninth Rank was still hopelessly beyond his reach.

However,

As a transmigrator, he naturally possessed a system.

[Name: Gu Chang'an]

[Lifespan: 1 year, 10 months]

[Identity: Woodcutter (Refugee)]

[Realm: None]

[Constitution: 19 (+1/day)]

[Technique: Iron Cutting Saber Technique (Yellow Grade Low Rank, Barely Initiated/+)]

[Note: Constitution increases by 1 point every day. As identity improves, numerical values increase.]

[Note: Every 100 points of constitution can increase lifespan by one year.]

[Note: Lifespan can be consumed to increase technique proficiency.]

[Note: The average constitution of ordinary people in this world is 20.]

His values would increase faster as his identity rose. The higher his identity, the faster the growth.

At present, he was a "refugee." His status was lowly, and he could not register with the authorities.

Therefore, his constitution increased by only 1 point each day.

For him, chopping firewood was his only path to survival.

At first, he was exhausted to the point of collapse after a full day and could earn only four or five copper coins.

Now that his constitution had improved, he could swing the axe faster, and carrying the firewood was no longer as difficult. He could finally save seven coins a day.

Eight hundred copper coins.

That was the price of purchasing a "household registration."

The status of a person officially recognized by the government.

As long as he obtained a household registration, he could leave the ranks of the refugees, enter the rolls of the registered people, and enjoy the treatment of the lowest class of commoner.

But his current savings had not even reached a hundred coins. Those eight hundred coins seemed impossibly distant.

As for the Iron Cutting Saber Technique—

It was a saber technique the original owner had once studied. Though it was merely the lowest-grade basic martial art, it was already considered rare among the refugees.

Unfortunately, the original owner's aptitude had been mediocre, and he had barely learned its outermost layer.

As for Gu Chang'an... he was not much better at present.

But he had the system.

After a moment of thought, he made a decision.

—Increase proficiency.

[Would you like to consume five months of lifespan and raise "Iron Cutting Saber Technique" to "Initial Mastery"?]

[Confirm / Cancel]

He did not hesitate for long before decisively choosing: Confirm.

In an instant, weakness surged through him. It was as if an invisible hand had swept something away from inside his body. His face paled, and his breathing grew more hurried.

"Cough... cough."

He covered his chest and coughed softly. He felt as if something had been drawn out of his organs, leaving his qi and blood in disarray.

That was the price of losing lifespan.

Five months might not seem like much, but for this body, already malnourished and entirely untrained, they were extraordinarily precious.

With that one gritted decision, he had practically pushed himself halfway into a coffin.

But he did not regret it.

"My proficiency increased." He closed his eyes, sensing that faint strand of power circulating through his body.

"If I encounter bandits, thugs, or wild dogs again... I'll at least have the confidence to strike once."

Yet he vaguely understood that using lifespan to cultivate was linked to constitution.

The higher his constitution, the less lifespan was required to increase proficiency. Eventually, he might even be able to nourish his skills with his body.

"But right now... I can't wait."

"I need to move faster."

[Name: Gu Chang'an]

[Lifespan: 1 year, 5 months]

[Identity: Woodcutter (Refugee)]

[Realm: None]

[Constitution: 22 (+1/day)]

[Technique: Iron Cutting Saber Technique (Yellow Grade Low Rank, Initial Mastery/+)]

Still, those five months of lifespan had been well spent.

His constitution had risen to 22 points.

Of course, the increase in constitution was secondary. Most importantly, his Iron Cutting Saber Technique had reached Initial Mastery.

The feeling it gave him was that he had already immersed himself in cultivating the technique for several months.

Seeing this, Gu Chang'an bit into a black steamed bun as hard as stone. His teeth nearly broke, and the sound of chewing echoed through the ruined temple.

He let out a low laugh, the smile filled with self-mockery.

"When other people transmigrate, they either become princes, generals, ministers, or the chosen sons of heaven."

"As for me, I became a refugee, making a living by chopping firewood. My dinner is this dead-hard steamed bun."

"This is truly miserable... for a transmigrator."

"But I'll take it slowly. Things will improve in the end."

A moment later, he returned to the ruined temple where he lived. After finding his usual spot, he fell asleep.

Several days slipped quietly by in the blink of an eye.

Gu Chang'an still rose before dawn, shouldered his load of firewood, and hurried out of the city.

Only when the afterglow of sunset gradually faded did he return, carrying a body full of exhaustion.

Every day was the same as before, but his steps had changed from their initial hesitation into something steady and powerful.

He had grown accustomed to the jolting and exhaustion of that rugged mountain road.

As his constitution gradually improved, and as the Iron Cutting Saber Technique broke through to Initial Mastery, his efficiency at chopping firewood rose dramatically as well.

The heavy work that had originally taken one or two shichen—

He could now complete with ease in the short time it took to eat a meal.

His income doubled accordingly, reaching a full eighteen copper coins.

Gu Chang'an felt faintly comforted and thought,

"At this rate, I'll have enough to register as a citizen of Nanning County in just over a month."

"Once I have a household registration, I can rely on my own strength to join the constables or take another official position, raising my identity."

"As my identity rises, my constitution will grow, my lifespan will lengthen, and my skills will advance... Everything will fall into place."

"With this cycle continuing, given enough time, perhaps—immortality truly isn't a dream."

Time passed.

Half a month went by, and the number of copper coins gradually accumulated.

Gu Chang'an's heart filled with joy, because he had collected nearly three hundred coins.

He carefully gathered the coins, placed them in a worn cloth pouch, and hid them tightly against his body.

However, no matter how cautious he was, he still could not avoid attracting prying eyes.

There were many refugees in the temple, and they varied widely in character.

The beggars in particular had shifty expressions and suspicious movements. They seemed to watch his every step from the shadows.

He already understood clearly: these people coveted the copper coins in his possession and were plotting something wicked.

Gu Chang'an steeled himself and secretly remained alert.

"I have to gather enough money as soon as possible, register in Nanning County, buy a house, and get away from this hellhole."

He knew that these days could not continue. Crisis lurked everywhere.

That night, the moon was hidden behind thick clouds, and darkness shrouded the entire temple.

The wind stirred the ruined temple's broken walls and crumbling remains without a sound. A deathly, oppressive stillness filled the air.

Gu Chang'an was practicing the Iron Cutting Saber Technique with a woodcutter's knife in a secluded spot.

He struck one blow after another, every move carrying killing intent. His breathing was as steady as a rock, and his movements flowed like drifting clouds and running water.

Though it was only a woodcutter's knife, he wielded it with the force of a saber capable of cleaving iron. His technique was rough yet intricate, his strength concealing finesse, and a sharpness honed through long years of slaughter faintly showed through.

After a long while, he sheathed the knife and stood still, breathing slightly harder. Sweat beaded on his forehead, but he showed no sign of fatigue. He lowered his head and glanced at the woodcutter's knife in his hand, then shook his head with a soft sigh.

"This woodcutter's knife is ultimately not as handy as a proper saber. Practicing with it... just doesn't feel quite right."

Though the tone was flat, it revealed a regret and yearning woven into his very bones.

What he wanted in his heart was a true long saber—forged from fine steel, three feet and five inches long, with a full-length blood groove, a chilling and compelling glare, capable of killing amidst ten thousand soldiers.

And such a saber cost at least ten taels of silver for even the cheapest one.

Yet in this world, one thousand copper cash traded for only a single tael of silver.

What was more, a truly good saber was something you might not necessarily be able to buy, even when you held the silver in your hand.

He put away his firewood chopper, felt for a dry, hard steamed bun from inside his lapel, and took a bite in the darkness, tasting like chewed wax and completely devoid of warmth.

He was long since accustomed to it, chewing away as he walked back to that dilapidated temple.

His footsteps were steady, but his mind never relaxed, his vigilance as sharp as ever.

Suddenly, the night wind shifted slightly, and an extremely faint rustling sound like sliding fallen leaves tore through this deathly silent dark night.

Immediately following that were several exceptionally subtle footsteps, intermittent...

Gu Chang'an stopped abruptly, a chill instantly racing up his spine, and his gaze like a hawk suddenly cast toward the direction of that commotion, his hands already tightening slightly, his knuckle joints turning white.

No firelight burned, no stars shone, yet he had already seen the writhing human figures in the darkness.

They were precisely those few beggars who had squatted outside the temple doors during the day, secretly prying upon him...