Waking from a Dream on the Frontier, Mud and Light

"Wuwuwu... Mengzi, don't die!"

"Leave a descendant for the Qin family, leave me something to remember you by."

"Anyway, if I mortgage myself off, it would only be a bargain for those animals..."

The woman's helpless sobbing pierced Qin Meng's chaotic consciousness like needles.

Cold. A cold that chilled him to the very marrow of his soul.

He struggled in the chaos, as if submerged at the bottom of an ice cellar. Amidst his blurred consciousness, the crying grew closer and closer, and something soft and warm pressed tightly against him, transferring thin wisps of heat.

Was that... a woman's body?

Bare skin pressed against skin, and a soft, warm, faint fragrance—carrying the unique, raw warmth of an unmarried girl—spread across his frozen skin.

In his daze, Qin Meng felt himself being held by a pair of trembling arms.

That warmth actually made his nearly frozen blood begin to flow and gather again... His consciousness struggled within the warmth, flickering in and out.

Suddenly, his vision went black, and he lost consciousness completely.

It was unknown how much time had passed when Qin Meng struggled to lift his eyelids.

A few shafts of daylight leaked through holes in the thatched roof, and spiderwebs swayed on the beams. The smell of mold, medicine, and cheap alcohol mingled together.

In his arms was a soft, warm body.

He stiffened and looked down; a pale, haggard, pretty face was inches away.

The woman was frowning in her sleep, her eyes red and swollen, her lips purple from the cold—she had actually... used her own frail body to hold him and keep him warm.

Fragments of memory suddenly pierced his mind—

The original owner was also named Qin Meng, a man from Luming Fort in Yang Province, outside the northern frontier of the Yanhan Dynasty. He was born with great strength and was exceptionally brave, originally good material for martial arts.

His parents had exhausted everything to provide for him, but he lacked aptitude and could never find the way. Others mocked him, his parents were disappointed, and he had forcibly attempted to break through his limits, damaging his foundation.

From then on, the original owner was left with a chronic illness and became a cripple.

His parents died during an alien invasion, his older brother went missing while guarding the border, and the successive blows caused him to sink into despair.

He sold off all the family property and, lost in a drunken stupor, would beat and scold his child bride.

It was this girl, who had once fainted from hunger outside the fort and been adopted by his parents, this child bride he had often beaten and scolded, who had risked her life to save him.

Three days ago, the late autumn in the northern frontier was freezing. The original owner had fallen drunk into a ditch outside the fort, soaked by the cold rain all night. By the time he was carried back, he had more breath going out than coming in.

It was the child bride Shen Qiuyue who had sold herself into slavery to trade for a precious life-saving medicine.

Last night, the original owner of this body had been ice-cold, his breath as thin as a thread. It was she who had stripped off their wet clothes and held him with her own chaste body, passing on the last of her warmth.

In his delirium, Qin Meng had heard her tearful whispers—things like "leave an heir for the Qin family" and "I don't regret selling myself."

Qin Meng closed his eyes and opened them again, his chest aching so heavily he could barely breathe. This was the lingering guilt and sorrow of the body, mixed with a deep, aching pity for the woman before him.

The delicate body in his arms stirred slightly; Shen Qiuyue had woken up. She opened her eyes to meet Qin Meng's complex gaze. A flash of panic and shame crossed her pale face, before finally settling into a deathly, numb silence.

She rose in silence, turning her back to him to wrap her thin frame in a tattered shift.

"You're alright, that's wonderful!" she said, a mix of surprise and joy, her voice choked with sobs.

"There is medicine in the pot. I will go heat it up."

"Sister Qiuyue." Qin Meng grabbed her hand, his voice hoarse.

The fingers Shen Qiuyue used to tie her sash paused, her knuckles turning white.

The address "Sister Qiuyue" felt so distant!

The boy who had once followed her with eyes full of admiration had long since been rotted away by cheap liquor, dying in some unknown gutter years ago.

Qin Meng braced his falling-apart body, trying to sit up. Every bone and muscle protested; cold sweat poured down, instantly soaking his undergarments.

He gritted his teeth, the veins on his forehead throbbing. He straightened his back, his gaze landing heavily on her trembling shoulders. "How much did you sell yourself for? How long do you have to pay it back?"

Shen Qiuyue's fingers twisted the hem of her clothes, her knuckles turning white.

"Fifty... fifty taels of silver. The term is seven days." Her voice trembled. "If I can't pay it back in seven days, I will... go to Qin Lai's house to be a slave and a maid."

Fifty taels of silver! Seven days!

"Why that scoundrel?" Qin Meng frowned deeply, his hand clenching instinctively.

The memories of this body told him that while Qin Lai was wealthy in Luming Fort, he was a local thug and a rogue who had sold many decent women into brothels.

In this borderland of Luming Fort, a strong laborer would only earn one or two taels of silver after a month of hard work. Fifty taels was a massive fortune.

Seven days—this was nothing short of forcing someone into a dead end.

"I will pay this debt." He spoke with ironclad certainty, every word squeezed out from between his teeth. "No one is going to take you away from me."

Shen Qiuyue turned around abruptly, her eyes rimmed with red, as if she were seeing him for the first time. "What... what nonsense are you spouting? What do you have to pay it back with? Your body is..."

"I said, I will pay it back."

Qin Meng threw off the tattered quilt and stepped onto the freezing floor with his bare feet. The cold was bone-piercing, yet he stood straight, his gaze clearer and sharper than ever before.

"The Qin Meng from before is dead." He pointed to his own head. "The one standing before you now is the iron-blooded instructor, Qin Meng."

"A Qin Meng who will no longer drink or gamble, a Qin Meng who will no longer give up on himself, a Qin Meng who will no longer hit you, a Qin Meng who will shoulder the responsibilities of this family."

Shen Qiuyue stared at him blankly, tears rolling down her cheeks without warning.

She suddenly turned her back to him, her shoulders trembling violently as suppressed sobs leaked through her fingers.

Qin Meng did not go to comfort her. He had no right to comfort her right now.

He moved to the door and picked up the rusty ring-pommel saber leaning against the wall.

This was the only item left behind by the original owner's father.

It was a standard-issue military weapon; the blade was long and narrow, feeling cold and heavy in his hand.

The sky in the courtyard was gray and hazy. He found a whetstone, brought half a jar of water, and sat down in the yard.

Sha, sha, sha—

The sound of sharpening was monotonous and persistent. The rust faded bit by bit, revealing the cold, icy glint beneath.

This sound seemed to be grinding away his chaotic thoughts as well, slowly and painfully merging the fragments of his past life with the wretched existence of this one.

He was Qin Meng. He was a 21st-century armed police instructor, he was the King of the Northern Frontier who had fought on iron steeds, and he was also this piece-of-trash Qin Meng of the present.

Before long, the blade reflected a bleak glimmer of daylight.

Qin Meng flipped his wrist and instinctively swung the blade in a horizontal slash—

Hum! The sound of the blade cutting through the air was short and sharp.

Immediately after, his feet slid across the ground, and the long saber in his hand danced along with him.

There was no set pattern, only the instinct deeply embedded in his soul. Hacking, chopping, slashing, lifting... every move carried the ruthless determination of a life-and-death struggle on the battlefield.

The blade moved faster and faster, and the sense of weakness in his body was replaced by a scorching flow of energy.

Suddenly, a few lines of pale golden text appeared before his eyes:

[Comprehended unranked martial art: eight blade breaking techniques]
[eight blade breaking techniques - Novice (1/100)]
[Martial art progress: 1%]
[Special effect: None]

Qin Meng paused, the tip of his blade drooping to the ground.

A golden finger? A faint smile appeared on his face. As if struck by a sudden inspiration, he closed his eyes, and deep within his consciousness, a semi-transparent panel floated silently:

[Name: Qin Meng]

[Realm: mortal body]

[Core Cultivation Technique: None]

[Martial Arts: eight blade breaking techniques - Beginner (1/100)]

[Status: foundation damaged, cold pathogen in body]

I actually have a cheat! Qin Meng took a deep breath, suppressing his churning emotions. This world was vast and magnificent, filled with ten thousand races, where human life was as cheap as grass.

Within the Yanhan Dynasty, the martial spirit flourished. The imperial court encouraged the populace to practice martial arts, especially in the northern frontier. Outside the passes, alien races infiltrated and lurked; it was a chaotic and dangerous place.

The original owner lacked talent and comprehension, and he had damaged his foundation while practicing martial arts. But with a cheat in this world where life was as cheap as grass, he had gained a bit of capital to survive.

He did not stop. Right there in the dilapidated small courtyard, he swung the blade in his hand, over and over again.

Sweat soaked his thin clothes, his muscles ached and trembled, and his lungs burned like fire. Yet, the number after "Beginner" on the panel ticked upward slowly but steadily: 5/100... 12/100... 28/100...

With every swing of the blade, the memories of blood and fire from his past life became a fraction clearer.

Those fragmented blade techniques and moves were like being combed through by an invisible hand, gradually becoming coherent and coalescing into the eight simplest yet most lethal killing moves.

When he had swung the blade who knows how many dozens of times, the warm current within his body surged violently.

[eight blade breaking techniques - Proficient (1/200)]

[Special Effect: physique enhancement (minor)]

Physique enhancement: A minor increase in physical fitness.

A massive warm current surged from within his body, washing over his limbs and bones. The negative status "cold pathogen in body" vanished, and the feeling of weakness rapidly dissipated.

Qin Meng clearly felt that new strength was continuously being generated within his previously empty body, constantly strengthening his physique.

His grip on the blade was steadier, his stance more grounded, and even his breathing seemed to have lengthened slightly. His arm strength alone had increased by more than thirty percent.

This tangible improvement ignited a flicker of heat in Qin Meng's cold gaze as he raised his eyes to look at the rolling mountains beyond the fort.

Seven days, fifty taels of silver.

Luming Fort was located on the frontier; doing business was clearly out of the question.

Plunder? This world allowed for cultivation and high martial power; he couldn't just let himself run wild.

In his memories, the northern mountain ranges stretched endlessly. Hunting might be a way out.

There was prey in the mountains, there was a path to survival, and all of this had to be found by himself!