Awakening

Dong Zhe felt a coolness on his face, as though droplets of water were rolling across it. He blinked and woke from unconsciousness.

What met his eyes was a coarse mesh made of thumb-thick iron bars, with several arm-thick iron rods crossing through it to form the cage's frame. They looked hand-forged, with crude workmanship, patches of rust and burrs everywhere, but they were sturdy enough. Dong Zhe reckoned there was nothing he could do against iron bars like these.

Where am I? He was a little bewildered. Through the arm-wide gaps in the iron mesh, he saw a hazy sky and a steady drizzle. It seemed to have been raining for quite some time; he was soaked all over.

He tilted his head slightly, trying to look around, but as it scraped against the ground, a sharp pain shot through the back of his head. He reached back to feel it and found an egg-sized lump. Someone must have struck him.

The next moment, as though his sense of pain had suddenly awakened too, Dong Zhe felt aches all over his body. He grimaced and sucked in a cold breath.

"What happened to me?" He raised his hand before his eyes, then rolled up his sleeve. His arm was covered in purplish bruises, seemingly left by blows from clubs, switches or something similar.

Who the %& beat me up this badly?! he cursed inwardly, but he did not dare say it aloud. Better to swallow his anger than suffer for it now. From the look of things, he was still in their hands.

I've never taken a beating like this in my life. Once I get out, I'm going to pay them back! he muttered inwardly. The next moment, however, he froze-the bronze arms before his eyes were thick and powerful, their palms covered in heavy calluses. Are these really the hands of a scrawny gaming shut-in like me?

Is this still me? A deeper question rose in his mind. He noticed that his clothes had been changed; he was now wearing a coarse linen shirt. With some difficulty, he lifted its hem and struggled to raise his head. He saw eight sharply defined abdominal muscles. Though they too were covered in purplish bruises, those muscles, worthy of the Governator, gave him a secret thrill. He continued reaching down into his crotch, and the size of what he found there pleased him immensely as well. As for what his face looked like, Dong Zhe had never even considered it-he was a man, after all, not someone who made a living off his looks.

Have I transmigrated? Another world, ancient times, or a modern world with superpowers? The Avengers, Wolverine, something like that? Looks like it was my soul that crossed over, though. Even my body's been replaced. He's white, but this physique is one hell of an upgrade. These transmigration perks are pretty generous. Dong Zhe muttered inwardly. As a shut-in, he had read far more than one or two transmigration novels. If he still could not understand what had happened, he would have to be an idiot. He was only a shut-in, not stupid.

"Hey, buddy, you can really take a beating. I thought they'd beaten you to death." Just as his thoughts were wandering, a slightly stilted voice came from his left.

"Who's there?" Dong Zhe jumped in fright-anyone caught fondling his ** while lost in thought would have been horrified. He turned his stiff neck to the left. He did not notice that neither he nor the other person was speaking Chinese, though he understood everything perfectly-it was some language close to the Latin family, with similarities in both pronunciation and grammar.

What came into Dong Zhe's view was a row of seven or eight cages of varying heights. All held people, but most were lying on the ground like him, their condition unknown. Only the person in the tallest cage was standing.

"A Night Elf!" Dong Zhe was certain this was his first time seeing such a creature in person, yet he did not find him unfamiliar at all. He had seen them countless times in the game, both players and NPCs. Looking at the male Night Elf's emerald hair, long ears, purple skin and blazing golden eyes, Dong Zhe suddenly felt a sense of kinship well up inside him. At last, he knew where he was. This was the world he knew so well, the world that had consumed ten years of his youth-Azeroth.

With difficulty, he strained his whole body and sat up-that was all he could manage, for the cage's height restricted his movements.

He raised his hand and awkwardly performed an elven salute, touching his forehead.

"May Elune be with you," he said with a smile. He almost laughed aloud, for he could barely contain his joy. It erupted from the depths of his heart like a volcano, impossible to suppress or erase. The feeling was so intense and impassioned, as hot as magma, as surging as a raging tide-like Corporal Keeshan's longing to return to his beloved home; like the heartache and sympathy of helping little Pamela find her doll; like Tirion Fordring's heart-rending grief as he watched his son fall; like Marshal Windsor's resolve and heroism as he entered Stormwind City to face death; like Modilam's endless concern and deepest love for his daughter as a father...

Ten years. Ten years of youth, filled with passion and fervor. During the brightest, most dazzling years of his life, he had plunged headlong into Azeroth like a moth into a flame, bringing with him that fiery youth which had once had nowhere to go and would eventually fade away. In this world, he had experienced bloodshed and slaughter, love and betrayal, death and rebirth. Countless times, he had inwardly thanked the game's developer, Blizzard, for giving him a dreamlike world. How many times had he imagined entering this world himself, like Jake Sully in Avatar?

As a gamer, he deeply understood Jake Sully's longing and hope to truly become a Na'vi, but Jake Sully had been far more fortunate than he was. Jake had succeeded in the end, while he could only log into the game again and again, experiencing this world through his character. Now, however, good fortune had finally arrived. At last, he had been given the same opportunity as Jake Sully.

Now, Azeroth, here I come! He strained to open his tear-blurred eyes wide and shouted in his heart.

"May the goddess bless you!" The Night Elf politely returned his greeting. His cage was somewhat taller, allowing him to just barely stand upright. He did not understand why this human had suddenly become so excited, but took it for the joyful surprise of seeing a savior.

"How were you captured?" he asked softly.

"I don't know," Dong Zhe said, somewhat bewildered. That was indeed the truth; he knew nothing about this body's circumstances. But he knew that almost all transmigrators had an excellent solution to this problem-the great amnesia technique [censored]. He reached up to feel the back of his head. "Look, someone hit me hard here. I can't quite remember some things from before."

"What's your name, then? Surely you remember that?"

"I don't remember that ei..." Dong Zhe was about to say he did not remember, but a familiar name suddenly leaped out from the depths of his memory. It was the last scrap of memory about this body. "Diago. My name is Diago Asnar."

All right, that'll be my name, Dong Zhe said inwardly. He had never thought that taking a name like Long Aotian in this fantasy world would make him some insanely cool, swaggering, badass **-gods existed in this world, and showing off really could get you struck by lightning.

"My name is Masley Bearhide. As you can see, I'm a Night Elf," the Night Elf introduced himself with some pride-and he had reason to be proud. Masley was a great name. The last Night Elf to bear it had been a highly respected master Druid who had taught hundreds of Druid apprentices. He opened his left hand, and a small seed slowly put out a tender shoot in his palm. "I'm a Druid."

Note: The name Diago originated from Jacob, the third patriarch of the Jews (the twelve tribes of the Jews descended from Jacob's twelve sons). In Hebrew, it means "supplanter" (Jacob once supplanted his elder brother to obtain the birthright).

This Jacob was not Saint Jacob, the first of Jesus's twelve apostles to be martyred; he lived much earlier.