Gods and Immortals? Demons and Monsters?

A few lazy clouds drifted across the clear sky, like pale ink spreading over paper. They lent the scene a touch of serenity—and a touch of melancholy.

On the Martial Arts School's training grounds, dozens of youths in gray cloth tunics practiced in pairs, swinging wooden swords. Their footwork and forms were orderly, and their shouts stirred up gusts of wind.

In a dormitory not far away, a youth stood by the window, brows furrowed. His eyes held a helplessness his peers couldn't understand.

"Ah, it finally doesn't hurt so much."

Xiang Yuan shook his groggy head and muttered, "I only wanted to outwork everyone, or get outworked by everyone... I was just saying. I didn't mean any harm. You really worked me to death."

"And transmigration, too. What kind of nonsense is this?!"

As he spoke, his head throbbed again.

Western Chu, Guan Mountain Circuit, Dezhou...

This was Xiang Yuan's fifth day in this world. Every time his head hurt, memories came flooding in—some belonging to "him," some not. All he could do was endure them.

When the pain became unbearable, he comforted himself with the thought that perhaps he was Zhuang Zhou dreaming he was a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming it was Zhuang Zhou. Maybe if the pain killed him, he'd transmigrate back.

That hadn't gone well. Transmigration was a one-way ticket; there was no going back. But he'd been through several bouts of agony that felt like they might kill him.

Over the past five days, he'd received memories in scattered fragments and formed a rough idea of the world he was in and the identity he'd taken over.

The fifteen- or sixteen-year-old body he now inhabited was also named Xiang Yuan. Orphaned and helpless from a young age, he'd ended up on the streets before the imperial court took him in and taught him to read, write, and practice martial arts.

There were plenty of youths like Xiang Yuan, and many had suffered even more than he had. Some had been struck by natural disasters, others by human calamities. Their lives were worth less than wild grass. Without the imperial court's bowl of rice, they'd have starved to death in some forgotten corner.

It was a hard truth: if you ate the imperial court's life-saving food, you sold your life to it. You became its dog, and when it told you whom to bite, you bit.

And the truth was harsher still: even dogs came in different grades.

The imperial court had many branches, each with its own level of authority. They couldn't all be treated alike. The Six Doors, for instance, one of the Three Judicial Offices, couldn't make do with the same kind of dog as an ordinary County Yamen.

The powerful agencies got first pick of the kennel, choosing the best-looking pups. The choices trickled down the ranks, and when everyone else had picked, the worst were sent to guard desolate mountains and mines. From then on, they were no better than strays.

Someone once said that if you were going to be a dog, you might as well be born in the capital.

They'd all suffered, all nearly starved on the streets. None of them wanted to be a stray. Everyone dreamed of making a name for himself, and if they got the chance to join the Six Doors, they'd risk their lives to seize it.

"Xiang Yuan" was the best example. His talent ranked above average among the youths, and he trained harder than anyone.

So strong, and so hardworking. The Six Doors were bound to pick him.

That was what everyone thought.

But before the Six Doors arrived, "Xiang Yuan" worked himself to death. He trained day and night, then poured a basin of well water over himself after each session. One day, he collapsed with a thud and slept like a baby.

He had a high fever for three days. When he woke, he was Xiang Yuan.

During those three days, the Six Doors and several other powerful agencies came and went, and most of their selections were already made.

As for Xiang Yuan, the hardworking oddball with decent talent and excellent martial arts exam results, the instructor had put in a good word for him. But everyone was busy, and one more or less didn't matter. No one took him seriously.

Everyone else had already been chosen. What were the odds this sick kid was some hidden gem?

The two Xiang Yuans who'd worked themselves to death became one. When he woke up, he'd also developed a head ailment and didn't look too bright. Seeing him, the instructor couldn't help sighing a few times.

"Poor thing. We're in the same boat..."

The pain faded. Xiang Yuan rubbed his temples, then saw the youths on the training grounds set down their wooden swords and gather together. He pushed open the door and hurried over.

The youths sat cross-legged, with Xiang Yuan at the back. They all turned toward the instructor, Lu Ming, and waited eagerly for the day's tale of the martial world to begin.

Lu Ming was a burly old man in his sixties. Usually taciturn, he became a chatterbox after drinking, and especially loved telling stories about the martial world.

By his account, he'd been a shining figure in his youth: a lay disciple of the Great Awakening Temple, skilled with both sword and fist, a scourge to the wicked. Known as the "Heaven-Scraping Great Peng," he'd been a renowned hero of the martial world, traveling far and wide, with every local giving him due respect.

Later, the Six Doors recruited him, and he became a mighty chief constable. Whenever there was a strange case, he solved it; whenever there was a vicious criminal, he caught them.

Then things went downhill. Thirty-six demonic leaders schemed against him. Though he fought his way out, he lost most of his peerless martial arts. He returned to his hometown, opened a Martial Arts School, and took to training the imperial court's pups.

That was Lu Ming's own account, told after a few drinks. How much was true and how much wasn't, no one could say. The youths didn't care; they were all enthralled by his tales of the martial world.

Fine clothes and swift horses, settling scores with reckless abandon, righting wrongs and upholding justice.

Not just the youths—even Xiang Yuan, who'd endured the relentless bombardment of the information age, listened with rapt attention. Whenever Lu Ming drank and started talking, his head stopped hurting.

"One day, your instructor received a letter from a friend. The Three Demons of Dragon Pool had appeared, and many heroes had gathered to discuss a righteous campaign to slay them..."

Lu Ming sat cross-legged and drained his wine. His stern expression brightened as the alcohol took effect, until his eyebrows danced with excitement.

He slapped his knee and looked around at the youths, who were all holding their breath. Thoroughly satisfied, he continued, "Your instructor didn't dare delay after receiving that letter. I traveled day and night, pushing three Dragonblood steeds to death before arriving at nightfall..."

"At a ruined temple in the wilderness, the heroes fought the Three Demons. And among those heroes, your instructor was the leader. I took on two of the demons alone and fought until heaven and earth grew dark..."

Xiang Yuan listened in silence, gleaning what he could from Lu Ming's words.

His head ailment had brought him plenty of memory fragments and given him some understanding of the world, but it wasn't nearly enough. "Xiang Yuan" had come from humble beginnings, and through his eyes, Xiang Yuan could see only a tiny part of the world.

Besides, the youths at the Martial Arts School were generally forbidden from going out. Everything they needed was bought for them, so he couldn't even see the world for himself.

He'd just arrived and knew no one. A clear understanding of his surroundings was essential.

At the very least, he needed to figure out the basics everyone knew.

Under the circumstances, Lu Ming had become Xiang Yuan's most important source of information about the world. Whether his drinking stories were exaggerated or self-aggrandizing didn't matter. Battle reports might lie, but battle lines didn't. The names of places and people, and the local customs, had cleared away much of the fog before Xiang Yuan's eyes.

It still wasn't enough!

Xiang Yuan slowly raised his hand, intending to ask about the world without being too direct. But the youth in front of him raised a hand first, blocking his way.

"Instructor, could you tell us more about how powerful Western Chu is?"

Good lad. That's just what I wanted to ask.

Xiang Yuan silently lowered his hand and gave the boy who'd cut in line a thumbs-up.

"I've told you this before. Naturally, Western Chu is powerful..."

Lu Ming wasn't annoyed at being interrupted. He took a drink and said, "All right, all right. You asked the right man. I once served in the Six Doors, so I've got eyes and ears everywhere. There's hardly anything important or secret in the world I don't know. Today, I'll open your eyes."

"Just as you'd expect from the instructor!"

Xiang Yuan cried out from the crowd, and the other youths chimed in with their own exclamations.

Lu Ming was secretly pleased. He spoke rapidly: "The Southern Border is beyond civilizing, and the Western Regions are barren wastelands, so there's no need to mention them. Chu, Qi, and Jin dominate the fertile lands. They're the main players in the world. Plenty of minor kingdoms have risen, but they all end up as vassals. None can make waves."

"The three kingdoms stand like the legs of a tripod. The world is divided among Western Chu, Northern Qi, and Southern Jin..."

Lu Ming spoke at length. As the alcohol went to his head, his words flowed more and more freely.

Xiang Yuan listened and nodded to himself, sketching out a rough map of the world in his mind and learning a little of the basics.

After talking for a while, Lu Ming changed tack. "There are affairs of the world, and there are affairs of the martial world. Most of you will be taken in by the County Yamens of Dezhou and become constables at the lowest level. The affairs of the world are no use to you, so I'll tell you more about the martial world today. Listen carefully and remember this, or you might offend someone you shouldn't and die without knowing why!"

At that, the youths all sat up straighter.

"Powerful forces are everywhere in the world today. There are famous sects and Noble Families, demonic heretics and monsters. Every family has its own legacy, and every person has their own supernatural abilities. They can turn clouds and overturn rain, move mountains and overturn seas. Some are like gods and immortals."

Gods and immortals?

Demons and monsters?

Xiang Yuan's expression turned strange. The news was so explosive that he couldn't tell whether Lu Ming had drunk too much or whether it was actually true.

But no one around him questioned it. The youths all looked as though it was perfectly natural. Xiang Yuan couldn't help feeling a chill in his heart. This world was too dangerous.

"The forces across the world are scattered like stars in the sky—there are more than you could count. As for the foremost powers of our time, there are three imperial clans, four Buddhist sects, five Daoist sects, eight demonic factions, ten Noble Families, and twelve famous sects..."

The three imperial clans could be grouped with the ten Noble Families and called the Thirteen Noble Families. Lu Ming wasn't on the imperial payroll, but he still drew a salary from the court. He didn't dare speak carelessly about this, lest his words get back to the wrong people, so he made a point of distinguishing them.

After drinking, at least his backside remained clearheaded.

Next, Lu Ming briefly described the foremost powers in the world. The three imperial families were the Shendu Xiao Clan of Western Chu, the Tai'an Liu Clan of Northern Qi, and the Shangyuan Li Clan of Southern Jin. Because of his backside, he avoided saying much about Western Chu's imperial clan.

Northern Qi and Southern Jin weren't so lucky. Lu Ming teased that their "backsides" were in the clear, so he didn't care if his words got back to them.

"The Western Regions lie along Northern Qi's borders. There are no great kingdoms there, but plenty of second-rate powers. They invade year after year and cause trouble every day. Northern Qi can't do a thing about it. It puts aside the dignity of a great nation and pays tribute of its own accord, making sure there's plenty of silver every year. It even built a wall..."

"Cowards like that can't be called a great nation!"

"Southern Jin is even worse. Everyone says, 'Of the world's wealth, Southern Jin gets eight-tenths.' Jiangdong is especially blessed by its rice paddies and waterways, and its wealth is unrivaled. But I know that 'of the ten Noble Families, Southern Jin has six.' Infighting has worn them down long ago. Western Chu need only send in its troops to wipe them out."

At that, Lu Ming sounded immensely proud. He drained his wine and declared, "Northern Qi is too timid and short-sighted to be called heroic. Southern Jin is an empty, prosperous tomb, filled with dry bones. In this world, only Western Chu is blessed with outstanding people and splendid lands. Now that's a nation of heroes!"

Xiang Yuan: "..."

What kind of wine are you drinking? Did someone add green plums to it?