Refugees

Tianwu Dynasty.

Year 5 of Tianyou, Spring.

The sky was like fire, the sun hung high, and the land was clear of clouds for ten thousand miles.

No rain for months, the land was scorched for a thousand miles, and not a blade of grass grew.

The five grains failed to ripen, and the people suffered.

In a year of famine and hunger, people exchanged their children to eat.

On the long street of Nanning County, the afterglow of the setting sun, like blood, spilled onto the muddy ground, casting a red hue.

In the distance, a figure bent over and carrying firewood gradually approached.

Gu Chang'an carried the heavy firewood on his back, his shoulders slightly slumped, his exhausted steps dragging and slow.

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

It was the Firewood Gang.

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

Someone walked up to weigh it.

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

The burly man leading them was around forty years old, with a sturdy build and eyes as cold as iron.

Without even lifting his eyelids, he casually said:

"Ninety catties of firewood, nine copper coins."

As soon as he finished speaking, he casually tossed a handful of copper coins, which clattered and scattered on the muddy ground, splashing muddy water.

Gu Chang'an silently squatted down, his fingertips probing through the slippery mud, picking up the copper coins covered in dirt.

When he finished counting, he frowned – there were only seven coins.

The remaining two coins were deducted "fees."

No one explained, and there was no need to. This was the unwritten rule of this street.

Exploitation never needed a reason.

Damn capitalists, Gu Chang'an cursed inwardly, but his face remained impassive as he carefully collected the copper coins.

Then, dragging his weary body, he set off on his way back.

On both sides of the long street stood rows of low tile-roofed houses, their walls mottled, and cold wind seeped through the cracks in the blue bricks.

The air was filled with the smell of dampness and decay.

Ten days ago, he had not been a person of this world.

Back then, he was a university graduate of the new era, in his prime, with dreams, ready to carve out a niche in the waves of information and technology.

But after one night's sleep, everything had turned upside down.

He had transmigrated.

He had arrived in this world of endless war and rampant demons, becoming a refugee without even household registration.

The original owner of this body was a refugee who, with his family of ten, had endured countless hardships to reach Nanning County, but they had not survived. Only he had clung to life.

No, even "he" was dead.

This damned world...

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

Fortunately, his fate was not too bleak. An old woodcutter helped him and secured him a job chopping firewood, which was just enough to make a meager living.

However, his life had not improved much.

He now lived in a dilapidated Mountain God Temple, curling up in a pile of straw at night, clutching a few frozen, hard steamed buns, and sleeping in the cold.

In the past, he had fantasized about changing his destiny with knowledge from his previous life, such as techniques for gunpowder, glass, soap, and fertilizer.

He even wanted to copy the Three Hundred Tang Poems and become a great poet.

Until one day, he personally witnessed a burly man smash a thousand-pound boulder with his bare hands, moving like a fierce tiger, with thunderous force.

That night, he witnessed a demon rush into a village, devouring people like grass, rivers of blood flowing, and the people suffering immensely.

After that, this fantasy was completely shattered.

In this world, strength reigned supreme—

Later, he learned from some refugees about the martial artist realms in this world, which were divided into the Houtian Realm and the Xiantian Realm.

The Houtian Realm was further divided into nine ranks, with the Ninth Rank being the lowest and the First Rank being the highest.

And those legendary Xiantian powerhouses, could they soar through the clouds and pluck the stars from the sky?

Gu Chang'an did not know.

He only knew that he was now far from even the most basic Ninth Rank.

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

Note: Constitution increases by 1 point daily, Identity increases, numerical values improve. Note: Every 100 Constitution can increase lifespan by one year. Note: Consuming lifespan can improve cultivation technique proficiency. Note: The average Constitution of ordinary people in this world is 20.

The numerical values accelerate their growth with the increase in Identity; the higher the Identity, the faster the growth.

At this moment, he was a "refugee," his Identity low and unable to be registered.

Therefore, his Constitution increased by 1 point daily.

For him, chopping wood was his only way to survive.

Initially, he would be exhausted to the point of collapse after a day's work, only earning four or five wen in return.

Now that his Constitution had improved somewhat, he could swing the axe faster and carrying firewood was less strenuous. He could finally save seven wen.

Eight hundred wen.

This was the price to purchase a "household registration."

The status of a person truly recognized by the government.

As long as he had a household registration, he could escape the ranks of refugees and enter the human registry, enjoying the lowest tier of commoner treatment.

But his current savings hadn't even reached a hundred wen, making eight hundred wen seem impossibly far away.

As for the Iron Cutting Saber Technique.

This was a saber technique the original body had learned. Although it was only the lowest-tier basic martial skill, among refugees, it was considered rare.

Unfortunately, the original owner's aptitude was mediocre, and he had only managed to learn a superficial understanding.

And Gu Chang'an... he wasn't much different now.

However, he had the System.

He pondered for a moment and made a decision.

-- Increase proficiency.

[Do you wish to consume 5 months of lifespan to upgrade "Iron Cutting Saber Technique" to "Initial Mastery"?]

[Confirm / Cancel]

He didn't hesitate for too long and decisively chose: Confirm.

In an instant, a wave of weakness washed over him, as if an invisible hand had plundered something from within him. His face instantly turned pale, and his breathing grew rapid.

"Cough... cough."

He clutched his chest, coughing softly, feeling as if his internal organs had been hollowed out, his blood and qi stagnant.

This was the price of losing lifespan.

Five months of time, seemingly not much, but for this malnourished body that had never cultivated, it was extremely precious.

With this gritted determination, he had practically pushed half his foot into the grave.

But he didn't regret it.

"Proficiency has increased," he closed his eyes, feeling the faint flow of power within him.

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

Yet, he also vaguely understood that consuming lifespan to cultivate was linked to Constitution.

The higher the Constitution, the less lifespan needed to improve proficiency, and it could even lead to strengthening techniques through physique.

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

"I need to be faster."

[Name: Gu Chang'an]
[Lifespan: 1 year 5 months]

[Identity: woodcutter (refugee)]

[Realm: None]

[Constitution: 22 (+1/day)]

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

However, these 5 months of lifespan were still very meaningful.

Constitution increased to 22 points.

Of course, the increase in Constitution was secondary; the most important thing was that the Iron Cutting Saber Technique had reached Initial Mastery.

This gave him the feeling that he had been immersed in cultivating the Iron Cutting Saber Technique for many months.

Seeing this, Gu Chang'an took a bite of the cold, stone-hard black steamed bun. His teeth almost chipped. The sound of chewing echoed in the dilapidated temple.

He let out a low laugh, his smile full of self-deprecation.

"When others transmigrate, they're either royalty or destined heroes."

"As for me, I've become a refugee, living by cutting wood, and my dinner is this stiff steamed bun."

"Truly tragic... a transmigrator."

"But, I'll take it slow. Things will get better eventually."

A moment later, he returned to the dilapidated temple where he lived, found his spot, and fell asleep.

In the blink of an eye, several days quietly passed.

Gu Chang'an still shouldered his wood-carrying pole before dawn and hurried out of the city.

He only returned, covered in exhaustion, after the afterglow of the sunset had gradually faded.

Every day was the same as before, but his steps had changed from hesitant to steady and powerful.

He had grown accustomed to the jolts and fatigue on the rugged mountain path.

With the gradual increase in his Constitution and the breakthrough of the Iron Cutting Saber Technique to Initial Mastery, his efficiency in cutting wood had greatly improved.

Tasks that originally took one to two hours.

He could now complete them easily within the time it took to eat a meal.

His income doubled, reaching a full eighteen coins.

Gu Chang'an felt a little gratified, thinking:

"If things continue like this, in just over a month, I'll have enough to register for Nanning County's household registration."

"With household registration, I can rely on my own strength to join the constabulary or other official positions, improving my status."

"Improved status, increased Constitution, extended lifespan, refined skills... everything will fall into place naturally."

"This cycle, given time, perhaps... longevity, is not just a dream."

Time passed.

Half a month later, the number of copper coins gradually accumulated.

Gu Chang'an felt a surge of joy because he had gathered nearly three hundred coins.

He carefully packed the copper coins into a worn cloth bag and then hid it tightly against his body.

However, even with such caution, he could not avoid being watched.

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

Especially the beggars, their expressions were shifty, their movements suspicious, as if they were always secretly observing his every move.

He understood clearly now that these people coveted the copper coins in his possession and were planning to commit a crime.

Gu Chang'an steadied his mind and secretly warned himself:

"I must gather enough money as soon as possible, register in Nanning County, buy a house, and get away from this godforsaken place."

He knew that such days could not continue; danger lurked everywhere.

That night, the moonlight was obscured by thick clouds, and darkness enveloped the entire temple.

The wind silently stirred the crumbling walls of the dilapidated temple, and the air was filled with a dead, oppressive silence.

Gu Chang'an was practicing the Iron Cutting Saber Technique with his woodcutter's saber in a hidden spot.

He swung one saber after another, each move filled with killing intent, his aura as stable as a rock, his movements as fluid as flowing water.

Despite it being a woodcutter's saber, he wielded it with the force of the Iron Cutting Saber Technique. The saber technique was rough yet refined, with hidden skill within its power, exuding a sharpness that hinted at countless battles.

After a long while, he stopped, breathing slightly, sweat beading on his forehead but showing no fatigue. He looked down at the woodcutter's saber in his hand and sighed softly:

"This woodcutter's saber is, after all, not as handy as a slaughter saber. Practicing with it... it's just not the same."

Though his tone was light, it held a deep-seated regret and longing.

What he truly desired was a real long saber—forged from fine steel, three feet five inches long, with a blood groove running its length, exuding a chilling aura, capable of killing amidst a thousand troops.

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

But in this world, a thousand wen only exchanged for one tael of silver.

What's more, even with money in hand, you might not always be able to buy a truly good saber.

He put away his woodcutter's saber and took out a hard, dry steamed bun from his clothes. He took a bite in the darkness, tasting like chewing wax, utterly devoid of warmth.

He was used to it, though. Chewing as he walked, he headed back to the dilapidated temple.

His steps were steady, but his mind remained on alert, as vigilant as ever.

Suddenly, the night breeze shifted. A faint rustling sound, like sliding fallen leaves, tore through the deathly silent night.

Following it were several extremely faint footsteps, intermittent...

Gu Chang'an stopped abruptly. A chill shot up his spine. His gaze, sharp as an eagle's, suddenly fixed on the direction of the sound. His hands tightened slightly, his knuckles turning white.

No fire burned, no stars shone, yet he could already see the figures writhing in the darkness.

They were the beggars who had been squatting outside the temple gate during the day, secretly watching him...

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