The Monk trailed through the thick foliage of the forest at a slow, mind-numbing pace.
And yet, he hummed in joy as he felt that fate was truly on his side. And how couldn't he?
Not only was he reborn into the vast and beautiful Vermilion Continent, but he was also now younger, given a second chance to achieve his dreams.
But he was also given the First Name of the Abbot who had saved him and put him on the path of enlightenment.
That further solidified the Monk's belief that it was simply fate for him to arrive in that world, at that time.
It was the result of the hard work he had put on his path to enlightenment. Leading up to the understanding he gained.
But although fated and joyful, he did have quite a bit of trouble adjusting for now.
He recognized none of the trees around him, their barks violet in a way he had never seen before in his past life.
And the memories he received weren't exactly those of a person interested in the outdoors.
So much so, that he didn't even know where exactly within the Kingdom/Continent he was.
The forest he found himself in was expansive, he spent hours just trying to find even the smallest source of water, a thin stream that may as well have been a line of piss in a creek.
Eventually, he did find a small river. It was flowing downwards from the peak of a hill and into a valley that Mo Yangling couldn't even see the end of.
The first thing he did was drink water from that river, tasting it and smiling to himself as his dried-up lips recovered some of their previous lustre.
Then he took a dip in the river, taking off his underwear, the only clothes he had, and jumping into it.
The current was nowhere near strong enough to push him, even with his frail body, and the water was shallow, barely enough to reach his waist.
He looked at the dirt and blood getting rinsed off his body and flowing downstream. Then he looked at his reflection, revelling in the fact that he was now finally clean again.
Still, the Monk couldn't help but sigh when seeing how his new body actually looked.
He seemed... So weak. So skinny. He expected that, yet he still felt like he had received whiplash from seeing just how emaciated he was.
Mo Yangling clearly had good genes, he was tall, lanky, and certainly handsome. His long hair was now ripped apart in places, and the Monk couldn't help but find it an annoyance.
He never cared about going bald like the monks, much like he didn't follow all of their principles to the T.
However, he found that not having to care for hair constantly gave one a lot more time in the day, which was why he ended up going bald.
He always liked to keep his beard though, something that he'd likely have to look into growing again somehow.
He just hoped that Mo Yangling would have the proper genes to even develop a full beard. He remembered that his father, Mo Weisheng, also didn't have a full beard.
He might have kept it trimmed, but for now, the Monk had no way to confirm that.
The fact that Mo Yangling didn't grow even a stubble or anything by the age of 16 was also concerning enough.
'For now, I'll just keep my hair short... I'll shave it off if I manage to grow a beard, I'm not comfortable looking like a hairless monkey like the other monks used to...'
Mo Yangling had gotten along very well with the Buddhist monks, and some looked really good as 'hairless monkeys'. But that style had never really fit him.
Some people simply looked atrocious without any hair, and he had been one of them.
'Well, I may look more handsome in this lifetime, so maybe I don't 'need' a beard... But I do want one... And I also have to train this body first... How long would this even take?
Two years? Maybe 3 or 4... I guess it also depends on what food I can scavenge.
Thankfully I still have a knife that will help me survive. That snake should be enough food for me for today, but I can't allow myself to grow even weaker.'
While in a situation that involved survival, one couldn't afford to 'train'. Survival in itself was training.
Every moment and every crumb of energy needed to be spent in securing shelter, water and food to ensure survival.
Hardcore physical training on top of that was both unneeded and risky, as it raised one's appetite by a lot. And growing muscle without eating enough protein was not a fool's task.
So Mo Yangling had no choice but to focus on the basics of survival first.
He was lucky to have found the water so quickly, but for the rest, he'd have to work harder to achieve them.
Well, the shelter wasn't hard, he could create a makeshift hut out of leaves and sticks. He had done so in the past as well.
But food was going to be an issue for sure. Mo Yangling had no knowledge of any fruits that were edible in that large expanse of wilderness.
'Still... With a sturdy stick, I can turn that knife into a spear...'
With even a half-decent weapon, Mo Yangling was confident in being able to find enough food in a forest overrun by wild animals.
After all, not all demonic beasts were born equal, hell he had just killed one as a mortal a few hours ago.
The Monk was brimming with confidence at that thought, he didn't plan to squander his second chance after all.
And his second chance was also aided by the memories of the body he now inhabited.
The old Mo Yangling's life had truly been a mess.
The Monk didn't understand how one teenager would be so stubborn, so set in his ways, that he'd be willing to endure any and all torment and humiliation to grow stronger for his own good.
Alas, it was likely because his parents had coddled him a bit too much. He had their support, so he kept going... Until they were no longer able to support him.
But besides remembering random facts about Mo Yangling's life up to that point.
The monk also remembered more about cultivation, the act that his previous body's host had so vehemently rejected.
It was, much like in a lot of the stories he had read before, the art of going against the heavens, of forging one's fate and breaking out of the mould of man's predestined mundane fate.
That definition didn't stand quite well with the Monk, but he cared not for semantics. Origin Energy, or QI, was in the world for a reason, cultivators were just gathering it and getting stronger using it.
Still, it seemed that although Mo Yangling wasn't interested in cultivation, he still was forced to read some books on it by his family, which gave the new Mo Yangling at least a basic understanding of cultivation levels.
First off, there were both internal and external cultivation techniques. The External ones worked on the body and he knew very little about them, while the internal ones worked on the soul and dantian.
Simple enough. Cultivators of both disciplines seemed to be ranked in the same way, but internal cultivation was a lot more popular, as it was considered stronger.
Cultivators started as 'Martial Apprentices', then went on to become 'Martial Soldiers'.
Those were merely the starting points in a cultivator's journey, but many still got stuck there due to a lack of talent.
They were essentially cannon fodder. Little better than mortal soldiers in reality.
After the Martial Soldier realm came the 'Martial Master' realm, followed right after that by the 'Martial Grand Master'.
The titles were quite simple and self-explanatory.
Usually, within the kingdoms of the Vermilion Continent. Martial Masters ended up as valued members of society, teachers of martial arts for the younger generations.
There were tens of thousands of Martial Masters on the continent, maybe even hundreds of thousands. Those who didn't act as teachers formed or took part in Demon Beast extermination squads for different factions.
They were still considered fodder by those higher in the food chain, but they were essentially right in the middle.
The Grand Masters were the rank further up, a rather steep rise in both power and status.
There were only a few of them, close to around 30 thousand in the entire continent if Mo Yangling's memory was correct anyway. Usually, they were the elders of families and sects, still working with the youth but also carrying out important tasks for their factions.
After the Grand Masters, there were the 'Golden Core' Cultivators. The fifth stage on the path of cultivation, and essentially the balance between absolute powers and numbers in the world.
There were only around a thousand of them in their Land of Zhu. And Mo Weisheng was one of them. Mo Yangling seemed to have paid enough attention to his studies and had the privilege of being born into a big family.
Thanks to that, the current Mo Yangling had some knowledge regarding the state of the cultivation world, even if he hadn't ever taken part in it directly.
But that was about the extent of it.
Mo Yangling only knew that there were 3 more realms after Golden Core, but he had no clue what they were. He only knew that the King of the Guozhi Kingdom was a realm above his father.
Regardless, his memories gave the Monk a lot to work with. He had all the information he needed for now.
Unfortunately nothing much regarding herbs or fruits, but he could manage.
Survival was his first goal. He'd have time to think more about cultivation after that.
And so, he got to work. He first put what remained of the snake he had killed on a rock, and left it there to dry before he went to find some wood and resources he could work with.
As he was doing that, other people had also entered the forest. People that maybe the original Mo Yangling would have recognized...
Two masked men dressed in black clothing had eventually managed to reach the bloody stump of a large tree.
The tree that Mo Yangling had been leaning on when he passed away.
The masked men were sent after the young master to protect him.
It was the least that his father could do in order to help while still caught in a bid for power and influence against the Elders.
But they were too late. Rather, the Patriarch was too late in dispatching them...
The two men looked around for a bit, both trying to understand and make sense of the scene in front of their eyes.
"It seems young master Mo Yangling was gravely injured here... This is his blood. Far too much for anyone to survive after losing. Especially for a mortal."
One of the masked men huffed as he touched the now dried-up blood.
"It's safe to assume he is dead. We can also safely concur that some wild beast ate his body or dragged it away."
They also found a few long strands of hair, which further solidified their theory.
They were able to see tracks of both people and beats leaving in different directions from that stump, so they had no choice but to give up on searching for their young master's body.
But that also meant one thing...
'We have to report this to the Patriarch now...'
It was safe to say that neither of them was going to have a fun time.