Slowly, a man lay on his back on the soft grass of an ancient forest. The towering trees, gigantic and shadowy, stretched high, scratching the sky. He tried to open his eyes, but the weight of his eyelids held them shut. His disheveled hair, sticky with sweat, framed a pale, hollow-eyed face. The sunlight filtering through the leaves bathed his body in a warm twilight.
A young university student, impeccable in his sky-blue suit and leather shoes, was preparing to leave. The reflection in the mirror returned an image of neatness, but his restless eyes betrayed a sense of unease. An insistent tingling between his eyebrows and an inexplicable feeling of danger crept over him. However, the promise of a date with Amano Yuna, a woman of legendary beauty, pushed him to ignore his instincts.
"I shouldn't go," he thought, but the image of Yuna, with her enigmatic smile, dragged him forward. He left his house, determined to leave his doubts behind.
As he walked down the street, his mind drifted between excitement and fear. Every noise, every shadow, every breeze brushing against his skin seemed to heighten his alertness. The rumors about Elena were persistent: a beautiful and mysterious woman, but also, they said, a little insane. Even so, the young man was determined to uncover the truth for himself.
Upon arriving at Yuna's house, he paused for a moment to admire the flowers he had bought. With a nervous smile, he rang the doorbell. At that instant, a cold wave rushed down his spine, and a shiver raised the hairs on his arms. His instincts, which he had tried to ignore for so long, rose in loud protest.
The door opened, and before him stood a woman of supernatural beauty. Her skin was like porcelain, her eyes two deep wells of darkness, and her hair a cascade of dark silk flowing down to her waist. She wore a white dress, so ethereal it seemed to float around her.
The young man was captivated. Forgetting his fears, he stepped closer to her. But just as he was about to greet her, Yuna's expression changed. Her eyes filled with inexplicable terror, and her body tensed.
At that very moment, a pair of black wings rose from her back.
"I'm sorry, I was given an urgent mission—I won't be able to play with you any longer."
A long, ribbon-like sword appeared in her hand, and as if it were nothing, she stabbed him in the stomach.
"I was just going to cancel the date, but Azazel put me in a bad mood. You arrived at the perfect time."
The young man, gravely wounded, tried to scream, but only a weak whimper escaped his lips. He turned to Elena, but what he saw left him stunned—a wide, sinister smile revealing a row of sharp teeth.
"Crazy bitch," the young man murmured before losing consciousness.
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Back in the forest, the young man struggled to open his eyes. The heaviness on his eyelids was crushing, as if someone had placed a slab of stone over his face. Finally, he managed to crack them open, and a wave of confusion flooded him. The deep blue sky stretched above him, and the towering, shadowy trees loomed overhead.
Memories of the brutal attack assaulted him, and a shiver ran down his spine. He bolted upright, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"I woke up in a forest in the middle of nowhere, with my body completely unscathed, while my last memory is that crazy woman stabbing me…" he murmured, his voice hoarse and weak. The tingling sensation crawling over his skin intensified, as if thousands of tiny insects were scurrying beneath his epidermis. The pain was dull, constant, and slowly consuming him.
"Either I'm part of some weird government experiment… or I just fulfilled every Otaku's dream and got sent to an isekai," he continued, his mind wavering between hope and terror. The thought of an isekai thrilled him, but the reality of being alone in an unfamiliar place terrified him.
"Or maybe I ended up in a wuxia martial arts world," he thought, his voice unsteady. "Why am I so sure I'm no longer in my original world? I've always had a wild imagination, but I'm not crazy. I know I'm not in my world anymore, that's a fact. But why do I know it?" A chill ran down his spine. Was his mind playing a cruel trick on him?
A purple lightning bolt lit up the forest, painting the shadows in eerie hues. The thunderclap echoed in his ears, amplifying his sense of isolation.
The sensation of ants burrowing into his skin grew stronger, as if thousands of tiny needles were piercing him. The air became scarce, and his breathing turned ragged. Every inhale was a whimper, every exhale a moan of pain. He collapsed to his knees, his body convulsing. Never before had he experienced such suffering. Not even when he was stabbed had he felt pain this deep.
His cries filled the silent forest. Tears streamed down his face like a waterfall, carrying with them his despair and confusion. The forest, which once seemed peaceful and serene, now felt hostile and menacing. The purple lightning continued to streak across the sky, creating a surreal and terrifying atmosphere.
He remained like that until dawn, utterly exhausted.
"Seems like it wasn't a dream."
"I think I overreacted. I don't even know where I am. If I'm still in my world, I just have to survive in the forest. I remember watching survival shows on TV."
Once again, a different kind of thought began to surface in his mind.
"If I really am in an isekai, I could enroll in a magic academy!... But first, I need money. As an adventurer, I could earn quick cash. Though being an adventurer sounds dangerous, so I should start by gathering herbs.That is, if this is an isekai. If I'm in a wuxia world… I'll have to leave the forest and find a sect. But I'm too old to start cultivating martial arts. At 20 years old, with no cultivation level, they'll see me as nothing but trash—or worse, just another mortal. It's all the same in the eyes of cultivators. Besides, I was never particularly athletic. I doubt I have a special body for cultivation. They'd probably kill me on a whim."
The more he thought about it, the more he realized how alone and vulnerable he felt. The solitude of the forest suffocated him, and the uncertainty of his future terrified him. He longed for the safety of his old life, no matter how monotonous it had been.
"I have no special talent. And even if I did, some old geezer would want to take over my body. If I join a sect, I'll probably end up making enemies, from outer disciples all the way up to the god of this world. Though… that only happens to protagonists.
…Am I a protagonist?"
Every time he thought about his future, he imagined a life filled with danger and misfortune.
"I'd be better off living a peaceful life as a farmer, starting a family… until some cultivator falls in love with my wife, kills me, and wipes out the entire village just to have her. In a wuxia world, women are a problem. Maybe I should just stay single… but they're always described as so breathtakingly beautiful that they could start wars. I want to see what they're really like, not just how they're described in books. Just seeing them is already too much trouble… I should just stay single… until some cultivator decides to destroy my humble village on a whim."
He kept creating scenarios in his head, and somehow, every single one ended in tragedy. Until a new thought invaded his mind.
He stood up and started searching his body and clothes for any kind of magical object.
He found nothing.
Imaginary shouts echoed in his head: "Come forth, Sacred Sword! Master of the Ring, I summon you!" With each desperate invocation, his hope crumbled.
"If it doesn't work in my head, maybe if I shout, it will." He continued yelling every summoning phrase he could think of until he was too exhausted to go on.
"I didn't come to this world through some mystical artifact. I'm screwed. I'm not special. It's obvious I didn't get here by myself."
Fear of the future paralyzed him once again. He refused to move from the mysterious spot where he had appeared. Every time he tried to take a step forward, his legs refused to budge, and the itching on his neck worsened. He had a bad feeling about this forest.
In the end, he gave up. Night began to fall, and he simply lay on his back on the grass, staring at the sky. He tried to clear his mind, to fully digest his situation. He felt like he understood what was happening, but in truth, he didn't.
It was like trying to remember a word that just wouldn't come to mind. As he attempted to clear his thoughts, he kept drifting off, making plans to escape the forest.
Even without trying, his plans always ended in disaster. He was either dead or enslaved.
Slowly, without realizing it, his hair began turning white. A chill ran down his spine as desperation nested in his chest. His thoughts were vivid—too real. Without knowing how, he sank into his mind as if he were falling into a bottomless abyss, trapped in a dream with no end.
The forest closed in around him. He walked for fifteen minutes through the dense vegetation, the thick humidity suffocating him. After half an hour, his body refused to go any further. He collapsed under the shade of a tree, panting, struggling to catch his breath.
Then, a sound. A crack. Branches snapping.
Something was moving through the undergrowth, its steps heavy, merciless.
His heart pounded in his chest. With trembling hands, he tried to climb the tree, hoping to escape whatever was approaching. But in his haste, his foot slipped, and a branch snapped with a sharp crack. The noise echoed through the forest like a gunshot.
Something heard him.
Between the thick foliage, two eyes gleamed like burning embers.
Then, the beast emerged.
It wasn't a tiger, though its silhouette resembled one. Its size was monstrous—four meters of pure muscle and power. One of its paws was larger than the young man's entire body.
This didn't make sense. It shouldn't exist. And yet, here it was.
The creature locked eyes with him, and in that instant, he knew—he had been found.
He had no time to react.
Ruthless claws sank into his chest. The pain was so unbearable that his vision turned black. Death seized him with its icy grip.
But he found no peace.
He woke up… or so he thought.
His breathing was erratic, his mind still trapped in the pain of his previous death. He forced himself to stand and took a different path. But his fate did not change. A giant bear crushed his bones.
Once again, he woke up.
He tried another direction. A colossal snake swallowed him whole, condemning him to be digested alive for three days until, finally, he died once more.
Attempt after attempt. Death after death.
No rest. No escape.
Time lost all meaning. He lost count of how many times he had fallen. Until suddenly, a burning tingle ran down his nape.
This time, it was different.
It wasn't a warning. It was a guide. Something was calling him.
He hesitated but followed his instinct.
His steps led him down the same path where the serpent had devoured him. His body trembled, fear clawing at his mind. But he pressed on.
And then, he saw it.
A corpse.
Slumped against a tree, clad in rusted armor, still clutching a sword in its skeletal hands. That warrior had been in the forest for at least a decade.
But it wasn't the sword that caught his attention.
As he moved the corpse, a leather case fell to the ground. Inside, a gleaming dagger. As if time had never touched it.
For the first time, he felt he had a chance.
He trusted his instinct.
And a month later, he left the forest.
His body was different. His mind, sharper. His tattered clothes were replaced by the hide of a bear cub he had managed to hunt. He was still not strong enough to challenge the beasts that had killed him so many times. That much, the itching on his nape told him—just like the time his instincts had warned him about Yuna.
His instincts led him to a dirt road.
Almost immediately, a merchant's carriage appeared. As if fate had been waiting for that exact moment.
He joined the merchant, learned his trade, and, over time, built his own fortune by following his instincts.
Finally, upon reaching a grand city, he decided to part ways and carve out his own destiny.
His steps carried him to a local market. Amid the crowd, an old man was selling trinkets on a dusty cloth.
Something inside him whispered for him to stop.
Among all the objects, he chose two: an old book and a small bottle of wine.
The book turned out to be a cultivation manual. Incomplete, but enough to begin.
And the bottle, though filled with low-quality wine, was made of lunar jade—an invaluable artifact for his journey.
His instincts always pushed him forward.
He joined a sect, starting from the bottom and slowly climbing his way up.
Ten years of relentless effort made him a core disciple. He wasn't a genius, but his instincts guided him to opportunities others overlooked.
Until his instincts failed him.
During the annual selection trial, his eyes fell on a seemingly ordinary young man, someone without any apparent talent. And yet, his nape burned like never before. A warning. A threat. He knew he had to eliminate him.
He acted accordingly. He handed one of the strongest candidates a demonic pill, granting him an overwhelming advantage.
And yet, the unknown young man won.
Barely able to stand after his victory, but he won.
And then, something even stranger happened.
The sect leader's daughter—his cultivation partner—leaped from the grandstand and rushed to aid him. As if they shared a history. As if they were destined to meet.
His chest ignited. A punishment. A mistake. And for the first time, he felt something other than burning in his brow. He felt cold, yet warm at the same time.
Time passed, and his failures continued. His companion drifted away from him. She sided with the stranger.
Not that he truly cared about her—she always had a cold, emotionless face with everyone. He had only associated with her because of his instincts.
And yet, it felt as if something was being stolen from him.
Desperate, he took a mission outside the sect. His instincts led him back to the forest where it all began. There, in the depths, he found the cave of the serpent that had devoured him the first time. After a deadly battle, he defeated it.
His steps carried him even further—to a lake stained red.
His instincts screamed for him to dive in.
But the cold in his brow stopped him.
And for the first time, he thought clearly.
"I didn't come to this world alone. I've always known that. But I never tried to find out who brought me here."
A bolt of realization struck his mind.
"All this time… I've been acting like a villain straight out of a Chinese novel. This lake must be some kind of demonic water that will drive me mad, and then I'll have to face Long Kang… That even sounds like a protagonist's name."
The truth hit him like thunder.
He screamed and woke up drenched in sweat.
The sun barely peeked over the horizon.
Reality embraced him with its warmth.
Had it all been a dream? Or not?
The young man slowly sat up, an unusual calm settling over him.
He walked through the forest with the certainty of someone who had traveled that path hundreds of times before.
His steps led him to a hidden lake, nestled among the trees, its crystalline waters reflecting the sky like an unbroken mirror.
Without hurry, he shed his clothes and stepped into the water, letting the coolness envelop him.
His breathing synchronized with the murmur of the wind, and for a moment, everything felt right.
As he floated at the lake's center, his mind refocused on his cultivation.
He attempted the technique he had practiced countless times in his dream—and to his surprise, it worked.
The flow of energy surrounded him with a natural ease, as if it had always been there, waiting to be harnessed.
For the first time, he had a concrete plan.
He waited patiently for his clothes to dry on a nearby rock before dressing and heading to the exact spot where he had first appeared in this world.
The air felt heavy, charged with an invisible presence that prickled his skin.
He raised his gaze to the sky and, in a firm voice, declared:
"Good afternoon, merciful god. Why did you bring me to this world?"
The silence of the forest was his only answer.
He took a deep breath and continued, "You are my only hope, and every part of me tells me that I'm right."
He reflected carefully.
He hadn't arrived in this world by accident.
He hadn't been transported by some mystical artifact.
He hadn't crossed dimensions by chance.
Someone had brought him here.
And if someone had the power to do so, it had to be an entity of unimaginable strength.
For a moment, he considered the legendary immortal cultivators.
But he dismissed the idea instantly.
Proud Taoist immortals would never stoop so low as to seek help from a weak outsider like him.
No, it had to be something else.
Something that delighted in bringing insignificant beings into foreign worlds just to see what would happen.
There was only one logical answer:
The gods.
As if the heavens acknowledged his thoughts, a shooting star streaked across the sky, its glow tracing a fleeting arc across the celestial dome.
A cold shiver ran down his spine.
Was it a sign?
Or just a whim of fate?
"They usually realize my existence much later… Most don't even discover it before they die."
His lips curled into a faint smile.
His suspicions were correct.
"It's time to begin the plan."