Pain!
Like being pierced by needles, the intense pain!
The moment Qin Zheng awoke, the severe pain from his chest nearly caused him to faint again.
Cold sweat emerged in abundance from his pale face.
After a while, the pain slowly subsided.
It was only then that Qin Zheng managed to catch his breath and come to his senses.
He lifted his head to look around.
It was an earthen house with few possessions: a cooking stove, a water jar, a wooden bed, and a cupboard.
Besides these, there was a Ghost Head Saber about five feet long, emitting a chilling, cold light.
"I've transversed..."
Accompanied by some scattered fragments of memory in his mind.
Qin Zheng muttered to himself in disbelief.
But before he could think any further, the pain in his chest began to emerge again.
Thankfully, it wasn't as violent as before.
Enduring the pain, Qin Zheng opened his inner clothing to check the area around his heart.
On his wheat-colored skin, there was a distinct black palm print.
The intense pain Qin Zheng felt was all thanks to this palm print.
And it was because of this palm print that his predecessor didn't survive, allowing the transmigrated Qin Zheng to occupy this body.
"What kind of enemy did my predecessor provoke?!"
Qin Zheng's expression turned ugly.
From the scattered memories in his mind, he realized that he was now in a dynasty called Great Jin.
This was a dynasty similar to the ancient times of his previous life, but with certain differences.
Here, martial artists could perform feats like scaling walls and shattering mountains; monsters took human shapes, devouring people and their bones.
In such a dynasty, only those martial artists who practiced martial arts and had martial power could live somewhat peacefully.
Ordinary people were like fish on the chopping block, vulnerable to anyone's abuse.
Qin Zheng's predecessor was an executioner in Black Goose City, Qingzhou, under the rule of Great Jin.
He had no martial arts skills, only brute strength and an ancestral Ghost Head Saber that was still reasonably sharp.
It was only thanks to his ancestors' leftover blessings that the predecessor had such a relatively stable job.
Once the pain had subsided, Qin Zheng stood up and slowly walked over to the water jar.
He took a ladle and greedily gulped several mouthfuls of water to quench his thirst before bending down to look at his reflection in the water jar.
He saw a young man about seventeen or eighteen years old, with sharp eyebrows and starry eyes, quite handsome.
But his brow was furrowed, his face pale, and he seemed very weak.
After seeing what his new body looked like, Qin Zheng lifted his head to look at the medicine pot on the stove.
A faint burned smell emanated from the pot.
It must have been medication brewed by his predecessor to heal the wound at his heart.
But he didn't make it, allowing Qin Zheng to transmigrate and take over the body.
As Qin Zheng inspected everything in the house, he sorted through the memory fragments in his mind.
In the predecessor's memories, he couldn't find how he got injured.
It just happened one day that he suddenly felt a pain in his chest, and then he found out that every day at Mao Hour, the pain would strike.
And at first, there wasn't a black palm print at his predecessor's heart.
But as time passed, the pain became more intense each day, and the black palm print grew increasingly distinct.
The predecessor did not suspect the work of martial artists.
He thought it was because he, as an executioner, had beheaded too many people, leading to the depletion of his moral virtue and attracting the ghosts of the beheaded to seek revenge.
After all, his ancestors were all executioners and they all died young, none living past thirty.
This led the predecessor to such a presumption.
And inside the pot was not a medicinal concoction.
It was talisman water, brewed from talisman papers he had acquired at great expense from Qingyang Taoist Temple in Black Goose City.
"No wonder I didn't smell any medicinal herbs."
Qin Zheng shook his head somewhat speechlessly.
In the memory fragments, he discovered that although his ancestors died young,
the reasons were all due to being killed by martial artists; none died of natural causes or supernatural events.
After all, as an executioner, standing at the execution ground, once the blade falls, heads roll.
And for those related to the convicts, if they can't revolt against the court and take revenge for the prisoners, couldn't they kill you, a mere executioner?
Especially since the executioner has no martial arts prowess and is just an ordinary person recruited by the court.
Like leeks, when one is cut, another grows; eliminating them is of no concern to the court, and those who act feel no burden.
Thus, the previous self must have definitely beheaded a convict and was sought out for vengeance by someone close to that person.
It wasn't about being haunted by ghosts.
Qin Zheng came to such a conclusion; although it was merely speculation, he thought it was probably not far off the mark.
And right now, what he needed to do was to first dispel the palm force he had received near his heart.
Otherwise, if his predecessor couldn't endure it, perhaps it would be he himself who couldn't make it through the next time.
He just didn't know who had dealt him the palm at his heart.
Nor did he have any idea how to dispel the force.
He could only wait until it became a bit lighter, finish today's task, then head to a clinic to see what the doctor would say.
From his memories, he knew that he had to be at the execution ground to behead someone this morning, fortunately, it wouldn't take much time.
But he wasn't his predecessor; he didn't know whether he could adapt to such a scene.
He just hoped nothing would go wrong.
Qin Zheng massaged his temples with a headache.
The palm print on his chest had turned pitch black as ink, so dire as if no medicine could heal it.
Could this palm force still be dispelled?
If it couldn't be dispelled, what was he going to do?
Just as he was pondering.
Bang bang bang!
There was a knocking on the door outside.
At the same time, a voice called out, "Qin Zheng, it's almost time, get ready to go to the execution ground."
Qin Zheng quickly dressed and opened the door.
Outside stood a middle-aged constable in black robes, with a long saber at his waist.
His surname was Wang, and there were some impressions of him in the memories of his predecessor, but not much.
"Alright, Constable Wang, I'll pack up and head right over."
Qin Zheng answered somewhat weakly.
The other person remained in the pose of knocking, staring blankly at Qin Zheng for a moment.
It was a few breaths before he came to and said, "Okay, I'll head there first, you hurry over."
After speaking, he left without waiting for Qin Zheng to reply.
Watching Constable Wang leave, Qin Zheng turned and closed the door, his expression instantly turning gloomy.
That constable's reaction just now clearly showed his surprise that Qin Zheng was still able to answer the door.
So that meant... he knew that Qin Zheng had received a palm strike and was on the brink of death!
Thinking this, a mix of sorrow and burning anger surged in Qin Zheng's heart!
He was serving the court, executing those whom the court had sentenced to death.
But in the end, he couldn't get even the slightest protection from the court, and these constables, too, were well aware and coldly watched as he faced his death.
It seemed that being an executioner was not worth it after all!
Qin Zheng took two steps and grabbed the Ghost Head Greatsword that lay against the wall.
Hum!!
Suddenly, the Ghost Head Greatsword gave a slight tremor.
Qin Zheng felt an explosion in his Heart Sea.
His consciousness instantly sank.
When he came to, he saw nothing but darkness all around him like the starry sky.
And in front of him, an ancient scroll slowly unfurled.
[Qin Zheng]
[Lifespan: 70 (17)]
[Merits: three qian]
[Item discovered·Ghost Head Greatsword, can be integrated, requires one qian of merits, integrate?]
[Note: Integration grants martial skill·Ghost Head Saber Technique]