Starting in the Heavenly Prison, I'm Done For

Consciousness surfaced as if from a deep, drowning struggle, heavy and viscous, with a tearing sensation of a soul being forcibly crammed into a narrow container.

Xu Qian's eyes snapped open, immediately choked by an indescribable, pungent stench—a mix of mold, rot, blood, and something akin to decaying innards—causing him to cough violently, his stomach churning.

He found himself lying on a cold, damp, and uncomfortably hard wooden plank bed, covered by a stiff, thin blanket that reeked of sourness. His vision was met by a suffocating dimness.

Only a bowl-sized ventilation opening high on the wall allowed a sliver of faint daylight to filter in, barely outlining the cramped space—less than ten square meters. The west wall was made of mottled, dark Xuan-colored stone, covered in dark stains and slippery moss. In the corner sat a foul-smelling wooden bucket, clearly for personal necessities.

The air was bone-chillingly cold, with a frigidness that seeped into his marrow.

"Where... is this?" Xu Qian's mind was a mess. His last memory was of himself, a 996 Corporate Slave, staying up late at his computer for some damned project, only to die of exhaustion.

He struggled to sit up, but his body felt weak and limp, his head throbbing intermittently as if he'd been drunk for three days and nights.

Just then, a flood of unfamiliar, complex memory fragments surged into his mind like a bursting dam.

Great Xuan Dynasty... Divine Capital... Heavenly Prison... Guards... Xu Qian...

A moment later, the pain of memory integration slowly receded. Xu Qian collapsed onto the hard plank bed, gazing at the low, cobweb-filled ceiling above with a vacant stare, only a single, enormous "Fuck!" remaining in his heart.

He had transmigrated.

From a 21st-century Corporate Slave to a sixteen-year-old boy with the same name, who had just taken over his sick father's position as a probationary Guard in the lowest level of the Great Xuan Dynasty's Heavenly Prison.

And this, was the Guards' dormitory.

"Guard... Heavenly Prison..." Xu Qian muttered, his voice dry and hoarse. "Others transmigrate and become princes or royal heirs, or geniuses of some sect, or at the very least, the son of a wealthy family... Me? Sent directly to one of the most dangerous professions in ancient times? And as a temp, no less, possibly without even official status?"

He recalled from the memories that the original host had died on his very first day of duty, overwhelmed by the "Yin Sha Qi" permeating the Heavenly Prison, coupled with his existing malnutrition. That's how he got this body.

This start was practically hell mode!

"Knock knock knock!"

The heavy knocking, or rather, the slamming, rudely interrupted his self-pity.

"Xu Qian! Are you dead yet? If not, get your ass out here for roll call! Think you're some young master now? Linger any longer and your pay for the month is docked!" a rough, hoarse voice bellowed from outside the door, followed by the sound of impatient footsteps fading away.

It was Zhou Kang, the head guard. In the original host's hazy memories, he was a hot-tempered, profit-seeking old hand, but somewhat protective of his subordinates.

Xu Qian jolted, his survival instinct temporarily overriding his confusion and fear. He struggled to get up and, following his memory, fumbled for the dusty, sweat-and-mold-scented Guard uniform at the foot of the bed, hastily putting it on. The clothes were cold and stiff, rubbing uncomfortably against his skin.

He pushed open the creaking wooden door, which seemed ready to fall apart at any moment, and a more potent, complex stench hit him like a physical force, nearly making him pass out.

Outside was a narrow, deep stone corridor. Burning pine oil torches were stuck in the walls, casting dim, flickering light that distorted shadows into grotesque shapes. The air was thick with an lingering smell of blood and a heart-stopping sense of oppression.

Several figures, also in grey Guard uniforms, hurried deeper into the corridor. No one glanced at him; everyone had numb expressions, their eyes holding the peculiar deadness and wariness of those long accustomed to such an environment.

Xu Qian took a deep breath, only to be choked by the smell and cough again. He gritted his teeth, forcing his still-weak legs to move, following the silent figures ahead.

The roll call point was in a slightly more spacious stone chamber at the entrance to Zone D. Head Guard Zhou Kang held a roster, grumbling as he read out names, with over twenty listless Guards standing below.

Xu Qian huddled at the back of the crowd, head down, trying to minimize his presence.

"...Xu Qian!" Zhou Kang called his name, his gaze sweeping over him with a hint of scrutiny.

"Here..." Xu Qian quickly responded, his voice quiet.

Zhou Kang frowned but didn't say much, merely waving his hand. "Everyone's here! Same as usual, those who need to deliver food, deliver food; those who need to clean, clean; those who need to stand guard, stand guard! All of you, get your heads in the game! Especially you new recruits!" His gaze lingered on Xu Qian and two other young men. "Keep your eyes sharp and your ears open! This Heavenly Prison doesn't just hold saints and angels. Don't end up dead without even knowing why!"