There's a Tree in My Mind

"There are two trees in my mind: one green, one gray."

Lin Yan sat on the steps beneath the eaves, gazing at the old tree in the courtyard while sensing that strange, uncanny tree deep within his consciousness.

His expression was somewhat dazed.

The strange tree in his mind was formed by two trees—one green and one gray—entwined together.

One was a tender, vibrant green, brimming with life; the other was a withered gray, resembling dead wood.

The only similarity was that neither the green branches nor the gray ones bore any leaves.

They were bare, standing no more than three inches tall.

Did I transmigrate into a Xun-ge scenario?

Lin Yan sighed softly. Once he confirmed he had transmigrated in soul, information regarding this tree had appeared in his mind.

Martial Dao Tree—as the name suggests, it is related to the Martial Dao.

It was a very brief piece of information.

Lin Yan accepted the appearance of the Martial Dao Tree in his mind quite calmly; in this day and age, transmigrating without a golden finger is as good as not transmigrating at all.

A small cheat is a golden finger; a big cheat is a hack.

Plop!

Bird droppings landed on his face, pulling Lin Yan's wandering thoughts back to reality.

He swept his gaze toward the surrounding mud-brick walls, his eyes filled with curiosity.

Where exactly did that Dayun truck send me?

Memories flowed through his mind—those from his thirty-plus years in his past life, and those belonging to the original owner of this body.

In his past life, he was born in a small town, studied, found employment, and worked like a beast of burden for a major corporation.

He could see his entire life laid out before him at a single glance.

He wanted to change, but at thirty-five, no matter what he wanted to do, he was told it was too late.

When he ignored the advice of all his friends and family, quit his job, and rode his Zhangxue motorcycle to tour the vast and beautiful landscapes of his homeland, he was struck by a runaway Dayun truck.

The moment the Dayun hit him, the first thought in Lin Yan's mind wasn't that his life was over, but rather that, this time, no one would ever say it was too late again.

For a thirty-five-year-old, everything is too late, except for passing away, which is always called going too soon.

Memories of the original youth:

Dengzhou Prefecture, Guangping County.

Eighteen years old, parents both deceased, living with his aunt and younger brother.

All these memories didn't just flash by like a passing scene; they were instilled into his mind instantly, as if by a sudden enlightenment.

Now, Lin Yan could be certain that the Dayun had sent him to a world of Martial Dao.

"The original owner had it rough."

His grandparents had passed away before he could even meet them; his parents died in a flash flood when he was seven, after which he lived with his uncle and aunt; when he was twelve, his uncle was taken for corvée labor and never heard from again.

There was no joking about "parents dead, powers heaven-sent" here.

Recalling the experiences of the original owner, a faint sadness welled up in Lin Yan's heart.

He didn't know if it was because he had occupied the original body or if he was being influenced by the depths of the original soul.

Lin Yan didn't want to dwell on it.

Since he was here, he would settle in.

From this moment on, he was the Lin Yan of this world.

"Brother Lin, how are you feeling?"

The courtyard gate was pushed open, interrupting Lin Yan's thoughts as a lean man walked in with a beaming smile.

"Quite well."

Lin Yan shook off his daze, stood up from the steps, and said with great excitement, "Brother Zhang, after taking that dose of medicine, I feel my body is much warmer. Does this mean I'll be able to cultivate a flow of warmth?"

"It seems Brother Lin has immense talent for martial arts. An ordinary person needs to take at least ten doses to feel any effect, but Brother Lin felt it after just one. At this rate, you'll be able to practice martial arts after taking it continuously for three months."

Zhang Dahai smiled until his eyes narrowed into slits. Hearing this, Lin Yan also wore a look of smug satisfaction. "Once I can practice martial arts, I will definitely repay you twofold—no, tenfold, Brother Zhang."

"Brother Lin, there's no need for such formalities. I only offered to help because I felt a connection with you. However, you must not speak of this medicine to anyone. This prescription is unique to the Li Family; if it leaks out, both of us will be in trouble."

"Don't worry, Brother Zhang. You've been so good to me; I would never speak of it."

Lin Yan patted his chest in assurance, then added, "I'll head back now and come visit another day."

Zhang Dahai walked Lin Yan to the main gate, and the two exchanged a few more words of mutual appreciation.

"No need to see me out, Brother Zhang."

"Take care, Brother Lin."

Thwack!

The courtyard gate shut.

"Idiot!"

"Moron!"

A whispered mockery and a silent thought rang out simultaneously, one inside the gate and one outside.

Zhang Dahai looked at the pot containing the dregs of the medicine in the courtyard with a mocking smile on his face. I only added so much ginger powder because I was afraid you wouldn't feel the heat. It's a good thing I didn't kill you, or my subsequent plans would have gone down the drain.

"I've been set up."

In the alley, the smile had also vanished from Lin Yan's face. With his experience, he could see at a glance that the original owner had been "slaughtered" by Zhang Dahai's trap.

This was a world where martial artists were supreme, and all privileges were reserved exclusively for them.

Most adults in ordinary families had already resigned themselves to their fate, but the youth still had spirit and harbored some fantasies.

The original owner worked as a shop assistant in the county town. Two days ago, while passing a teahouse, he heard someone shouting that a martial artist was preaching the way of martial arts inside. Anyone could enter to listen, and the tea was free.

Out of curiosity, the original owner went in and, as luck would have it, ended up at the same table as Zhang Dahai. Not knowing the dangers of the world, the youth was led by Zhang Dahai's rhetoric to reveal his family situation in complete detail.

Unexpectedly, after the lecture, Zhang Dahai took the original owner to meet that martial artist privately. The martial artist felt the original owner's bones and asserted that he had the potential for martial arts, though his body was currently a bit weak. He claimed that as long as he nurtured his health, he could take him as a disciple and personally impart martial arts to him.

The story that followed was quite cliché. Zhang Dahai told the original owner many legendary tales of martial arts experts who came from humble backgrounds but achieved success after receiving support from noble benefactors.

Zhang Dahai was willing to be that benefactor for the original owner.

He possessed a secret medicinal formula from the Li Family, a prominent household in the city, which could nurture the body.

One dose of medicine cost two hundred wen.

It didn't matter that the original owner had no money; he just had to sign a loan agreement.

For a youth inexperienced in the ways of the world, and having received a personal promise from a martial artist, how could he care about the price of the medicine? His mind was filled only with the glory of becoming a martial artist in the future.

When that time came, what was this small amount of money?

"My aunt rented out the house my parents left behind, which brings in two taels of rent a year. If sold, it would be worth twenty taels. Zhang Dahai's target is the house my parents left behind."

"Exposing him on the spot and having a falling out would only risk him resorting to other malicious schemes. Zhang Dahai and that 'martial artist' are clearly a gang. Such people won't stop until they reach their goal; a direct confrontation is not a wise choice."

Lin Yan didn't rush home. Instead, he slowed his pace, pondering a countermeasure while observing his surroundings.

The road beneath his feet was made of rammed yellow earth, worn uneven by countless pairs of feet, livestock hooves, and the occasional carriage wheel.

On both sides of the road were crowded mud-brick houses. Most of the walls were mottled, exposing straw stalks, and the roofs were covered in thick, unevenly colored thatch, some of which had turned black, showing the dampness of years of accumulation.

After turning two corners, the view became slightly more "spacious," forming a small street.

There were more shops on both sides with old, weathered door panels, but the flow of people was greater, and the ground had changed from yellow earth to bluestone slabs.

In the entire old northern city area, this street ranked in the top three for cleanliness, and Lin Yan lived in an alleyway off this street.

Returning to his own door, Lin Yan pushed open the courtyard gate and called out, "Aunt, I'm home."

In the courtyard, the woman soaking laundry by the well looked up. "Yan'er is back. There is food warming in the pot; go eat first."

"Alright."

Lin Yan agreed. Ever since his uncle was conscripted for labor two years ago and no news had returned, his aunt had closed their bun shop and now relied on washing and mending clothes for others to maintain the household expenses.

In his memories, his aunt rarely went out except to pick up work.

The original owner didn't understand why his aunt had closed the bun shop when business wasn't bad.

However, Lin Yan could understand. Although Guangping County had a government office, it was not entirely peaceful; gangs were everywhere, and a widow's door was a magnet for trouble.

His aunt was raising him and his cousin; she didn't want to invite trouble. Washing and mending earned less, but it was stable and quiet.

Entering the main room, although it wasn't large and was mostly occupied by the stove, cabinets, and table, there was no damp or musty smell. The room was very tidy.

Lin Yan was indeed quite hungry.

He walked to the stove, ladled a bowl of rice from the pot, and ate it with the preserved meat and vegetables on the table. He didn't find it unpalatable; this body was already accustomed to it.

After the meal.

Lin Yan looked at his aunt, who was still washing clothes, and asked, "Aunt, where is Little Brother?"

His cousin, Lin Mo, was six years younger than him.

"He's out running wild with the other children. Go find him in a while and call him back for dinner."

His aunt, Liu, didn't look up, but Lin Yan felt a ripple of emotion upon hearing this.

In his memories, his aunt was very strict with him but rarely disciplined his younger cousin. Although it was said to be because his cousin was young, when he was his cousin's age, if he played outside for too long, he would be scolded or even beaten by his aunt upon returning.

The original owner felt this differential treatment was because he wasn't her biological son, but Lin Yan had a different perception.

If she were biased, why would he get new clothes every year, while his cousin wore his old ones?

If she were biased, how could she scrape together dozens of wen every month to send him to study reading and writing with a teacher for two years?

"Aunt, I don't want to work at the Zhou Family Shop anymore."

As Lin Yan spoke, Liu, who was busy washing clothes, paused and looked up with a worried gaze: "Were you bullied at the shop?"

"I wasn't bullied."

Lin Yan shook his head. With the Martial Dao Tree in his mind, embarking on the path of martial arts was inevitable.

If he hadn't been set up, he would have lived the original owner's life peacefully for a while, waiting until he understood this world better before considering martial arts.

But with Zhang Dahai's trap ahead, and seeing his aunt's decisiveness in closing the bun shop and selling the fields, he changed his mind.

"I want to learn martial arts."