A Truly High-Martial World

"Everyone on the scene, back away immediately! Get behind the cordon line!!"

A commotion rippled through the crowd.

Five young martial artists, dressed in the standard-issue combat uniforms of Sky Moon Martial University, shouted sternly at the onlookers.

They gripped their standard kinetic rifles, their expressions tense and grave.

Hearing their commands, the surrounding crowd retreated, their faces filled with panic and confusion.

Terrified of death yet unable to suppress their curiosity about what had happened, they would take two steps back only to subconsciously lean forward again.

"Another one dead."

"Which one is this?"

"The fourth..."

"These mutated creatures are getting more and more rampant."

"There's no helping it. We martial servants have neither the high-tech equipment to fight mutated creatures nor the value to warrant the official forces of the Martial University stepping in."

"That's how it is living in the shantytown. If we were in the proper residential zones, those students from the Martial University wouldn't let mutated creatures run wild!"

"I'm moving to the residential zone tonight."

"The rent in the proper residential zones is too expensive—six thousand a month!"

"Then live somewhere further out!"

"Even further out, it's still four thousand!"

"Better than losing your life!"

"What do you know? Being alive but broke is the greatest tragedy of all!"

A shantytown constructed from discarded alloy plates and makeshift composite materials served as the "home" for this group of people.

It looked like a pile of trash tossed aside and cobbled together.

It was scattered chaotically beside a sewage ditch filled with gravel and emitting a pungent, foul odor.

The space here was cramped and stifling.

A suffocating atmosphere hung over everyone's hearts like a heavy lead weight.

The air was thick with the stench of fermenting garbage and the fishy reek of sewage.

Heavy, lead-gray clouds pressed down upon the shantytown.

Sporadic, icy raindrops fell silently like fine steel needles.

They landed on the necks of passersby, feeling like a cold hand gently brushing against the back of their heads.

It made people instinctively shrink their necks.

Within the crowd.

A middle-aged man in a tank top listened to the surrounding chatter with a calm expression.

At one point, he reached up to touch the corner of his eye, but touched nothing.

"Still not used to being without glasses," the man muttered to himself.

He shook his head, his face somewhat pale.

Three days ago, he had transmigrated.

That's right, a young man who had only been out of college for three years had transmigrated into the body of a middle-aged uncle nearing forty.

This was a high-martial world.

The original owner of this body was an ordinary transport and maintenance worker for the freight maintenance unit of Sky Moon Martial University, also named Xu Feng.

Nearing forty, having achieved nothing, he was an extremely mediocre, ordinary person.

Three years ago.

"Xu Feng" had followed the vanguard to station in this godforsaken place called "Dimension 1-13."

People like them had a collective title—"martial servants."

That is, to the martial artists who were their superiors, they were nothing more than servants.

Like janitors and logistics staff, they belonged to the very bottom of the entire hierarchy.

His life could be summarized in one sentence:

Don't bully the young for being poor, don't bully the middle-aged for being poor, and the next step is likely "death is the greatest event."

The reason Xu Feng was able to transmigrate here was precisely because the original "Xu Feng" had been attacked by a mutated creature.

As for what attacked him? How it attacked? He had no idea.

Regardless, the moment he opened his eyes, the bachelor who had just been eating beef hotpot was lying on a broken iron-frame bed.

Before his eyes lay a home with nothing but four bare walls, and by his side was an extra burden not even eleven years old.

The contrast between before and after was as jarring as falling from heaven into hell.

"No one is allowed near here for the next three days!"

"If you're looking to die, go ahead and try! I've said my piece!"

The loud, stern shout of that reserve officer from Sky Moon Martial University pulled Xu Feng back to his senses.

Immediately, the security team called two men from the scene to seal off the house where the incident occurred.

Then, they carried away a corpse and strode off.

Watching those people leave with hurried expressions, Xu Feng fell into deep thought.

In the original owner's memories, one person died five days ago, and three more have died in the last two days.

Counting me—no, counting the original owner—that makes five.

It's basically one a day. Damn, this world is truly dangerous.

According to the fragmented memories in his mind.

Supposedly, this area guarded by Sky Moon Martial University hadn't seen such terrifying mutated creatures for six months.

There hadn't been any news of a collapse from the front-line troops either.

How did this mutated creature make it into this rear garrison zone?

Watching the crowd disperse, Xu Feng also began to walk back.

The environment of the shantytown was abysmal, as it was essentially built spontaneously on the outskirts of the Sky Moon military base.

There was no planning and no management.

Trash, excrement, the smell of motor oil, discarded transport frames, and even the skeleton of a mutated creature the size of a giant elephant stood there like a landscape feature.

The mix of various odors and chaotic sights made one unable to help but frown.

Along the way, he constantly saw neighbors packing up to move.

"Hey! Brother Xu! You're still not moving? Aren't you afraid of dying?"

Just as Xu Feng was pondering what to do next.

A rosy-cheeked Fatty happened to walk out of the shack next door.

He was carrying a massive standard-issue furnace in his hands.

Seeing Xu Feng return, he asked with a look of surprise.

This Fatty was an unofficial biological engineer for Sky Moon Martial University; simply put, he made medicine.

He was very easygoing and could be considered a decent neighbor.

"Not afraid," Xu Feng waved his hand, acknowledging the greeting.

"If you're not afraid, then—gah?" Fatty stopped mid-sentence, instantly stunned.

??

What was going on?

How did this guy, who was usually timid as a mouse, suddenly grow a backbone today?

Could it be that he was out of money again?

Afterward, Fatty shook his head helplessly, wearing an expression that said, "It's hard to save a soul determined to die":

"I'm telling you, think about your Xiao Dan. Stop frequenting those foot massage parlors; what's so great about those technicians?

They're just women, aren't they? If you saved some money, you could find someone decent, right?"

Xu Feng's footsteps faltered, his face speechless.

Well, I was wondering why the original owner's salary wasn't low, yet he hadn't saved a single cent? So it was all donated to the technicians!

He immediately racked his brains to recall.

Yet he found no happy memories of spending a night of passion with any technicians.

Damn, so he was spending money without getting any action?

Xu Feng looked at Fatty and nodded: "Don't worry, I'm quitting starting today."

Fatty was stunned for a moment, then looked at Xu Feng with great astonishment: "For real? Here, take this to make do; I don't need it anymore."

As he spoke, he turned around, pulled a slightly worn standard-issue combat knife from the cart behind him, and tossed it to Xu Feng.

Then, Fatty walked quickly toward the depths of the shantytown without looking back.

Xu Feng didn't refuse, merely waving at his retreating figure: "Thanks!"

Fatty waved a hand, his pace quickening.

Watching Fatty leave, Xu Feng pushed the door open and stepped into the simple shack, lost in thought.

He hung the standard-issue combat knife casually on a nail behind the door.

Immediately.

He sat down on the edge of the alloy bed frame.

He was contemplating how to face the survival crisis ahead.

Starving to death without money, or being eaten by monsters.

Do not think that living on the edge of this shantytown means you don't have to pay rent.

Even if this territory is an otherworldly realm, and even if this house was hand-built by them.

As long as it is occupied by the Martial University Army, it belongs to them.

Living, eating, and sleeping here all require paying "taxes" and "rent."

Moreover, even those who fail to become martial artists and remain martial servants must cultivate, and cultivation costs money.

After all, the work in this place is not something an ordinary person can handle.

"Dad, time to eat."

No sooner had he sat down.

Than.

A half-grown girl walked toward him from the other room, carrying a bowl.

Steam rose from the bowl.

The little girl was clearly frowning from the heat, yet she insisted on handing the bowl to Xu Feng.

Xu Feng was stunned for a moment.

He then lunged forward, snatched the bowl from the little girl's hands, winced as he set it on the table nearby, and began blowing on her hands:

"Didn't I tell you not to cook? Why don't you listen?"

The little girl looked at him coldly, and the moment she opened her mouth, a childish yet shocking string of profanity spilled out: "Are you fucking obsessed with washing feet?

From the time I can remember, I've been the one cooking.

Didn't you say I had to pay back the debt of being raised by you? Did a dog eat your brain?"

Such sharp words, such a young face.

Xu Feng was left completely speechless.

He was shocked for a long time.

Good grief.

You are a ten-year-old girl.

Is it appropriate to be spouting "fucking" every other word?

Xu Feng's face darkened as he pressed down on the little girl's shoulders: "Xu Xiaodan, get this straight, I am the head of this household!

In this house, only I have the right to cook in the kitchen!

From today on, if you dare touch the pot again, see how I deal with you!"

"Huh?"

The little girl looked at Xu Feng in confusion.

"Go do your homework immediately! Also, no more swearing from today on, or I'll beat you every time I hear it!"

Xu Feng feigned toughness.

The little girl frowned and looked at him for a while: "It's not like you don't beat me usually."

Then.

She turned around, climbed onto a small bed nearby, turned on the desk lamp, and began to read.

Xu Feng vaguely heard her muttering: "Acting all weird. A lunatic."

Xu Feng: "."

[May 23, 2125]

[People died in the shantytown again today. I heard it was Little Juan's dad. I'm a little scared.

I don't know what's wrong with Dad. Ever since he was pecked by that strange bird that night, he's changed.

He used to always shout that I was picked up, an abandoned child.

But since that day, he hasn't called me that, and he won't let me cook, do laundry, or even help Aunt Chen earn money.

I suspect Dad is sick, he must be. I hope Dad gets better soon. -- Xu Xiaodan]

In the room.

Watching his daughter hunched over a crude wooden table doing her homework.

Xu Feng let out a sigh of relief, lay back on his bed, and stared blankly, lost in thought.

Having finished lecturing his daughter, his mood was somewhat complicated.

The first reason was that he felt raising a child was far too troublesome; in his own mind, he was still a child himself.

The second was his wariness of this dangerous survival environment, where ordinary people could drop dead at any moment—it was simply absurd.

Those so-called mutated creatures came and went without a trace, making them truly too dangerous.

He had to make plans early.

The moment he transmigrated, Xu Feng was still worrying, "I haven't finished paying off my mortgage yet."

The next second, he was happy, "I don't have to pay the mortgage at all anymore."

But reality soon told him that there were things here far more terrifying than a mortgage.

Thinking of this, Xu Feng stood up and began rummaging through the room.

Soon.

He laid out all his current assets on the bed.

One communication bracelet, with an account balance of "3655.89" Great Xia Currency.

One steel prosthetic left leg.

It was said to be made of Aland alloy and could sell for nearly two thousand; he had scavenged it from a pile of corpses in the wilderness zone.

One standard-issue combat blade, a gift from Fatty.

One centralized crystal energy stove, which could still burn for 221 hours.

Eight books, most of which were about electronic technology; only one was on blade techniques and one was a manual for throwing knives, which Xu Feng hadn't looked at carefully.

One electronic repair kit, ninth-hand.

Three damaged, fourth-hand communication bracelets.

In addition, there were 3 days' worth of food rations.

Calling this home "destitute" would be a generous description.

In Xu Feng's view, this was a complete dead end.

Damn it.

He really wanted to drag the original owner out of his brain, give him a sound thrashing, shove him into the cesspit outside, and stomp on him twice for good measure.

"No, whether it's for practicing martial arts to strengthen the body later, or just for daily necessities, money is absolutely essential.

At my age, I'm afraid there's no hope for me to become a gigolo.

Let me think, what other ways are there to make money without selling my body?"

Xu Feng muttered to himself for a while.

Soon, he focused his attention on the repair kit and the few old books.

"The original owner seemed to rely on repairing all sorts of junk as a side job.

With my skills as a top student in electromagnetic fields, starting from this shouldn't be difficult."

Five minutes later.

Bang!

Xu Feng tossed the book onto the bed and flopped backward, lying flat: "This is too hard, isn't it?"

He recognized every character in the book, but when put together, he had no idea what they meant.

Wait, is the technological gap between these two worlds really this massive?

What the hell is 100G communication?

Can current communication technology, modulation techniques, and basic infrastructure even support communication at such high frequencies?

Optical communication? Or quantum communication?

Xu Feng scoured his brain for every bit of knowledge he had regarding communications.

But it wasn't enough.

He could only search for relevant knowledge within the remnants of the original owner's memories.

"Dad, you're not dead, are you?"

Just then, Xiao Dan leaned over and asked.

Xu Feng rolled over and sat up from the bed, his eyes wide with rage: "If you speak like that again, see if I don't tear your mouth apart!"

Xiao Dan's face turned pale, and she turned around dejectedly to return to the table, writing in her diary:

[Dad's illness is better, I cured him]