Chapter 1: The Ways of the World
The sky was clear, and the sun shone brightly.
Carrying a heavy bamboo basket on his back, Zhang Yuan trudged along a rugged mountain path.
Beads of sweat the size of soybeans continuously rolled down the forehead of the fifteen-year-old boy. His bronzed skin glistened under the sunlight, and the muscles beneath his thin clothing bulged with exertion.
Rounding a fork in the road, a mountain village nestled among the peaks appeared before him.
He raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his face, revealing a faint smile.
Chen Family Village.
This was Zhang Yuan's home in this life.
Five years ago, he had unknowingly awakened from the mystery of the womb and gradually recovered memories of his past life.
Though he didn't understand why he had transmigrated into this ancient, otherworldly realm, Zhang Yuan didn't complain or give up. Instead, he focused on learning the skills needed to survive.
By now, he had grown accustomed to life here.
Taking a deep breath, Zhang Yuan didn't head directly home, but instead took a different small path.
Before long, a wooden house on the edge of the forest came into view.
Zhang Yuan's expression changed.
In the fenced courtyard before the wooden house, three boys around ten years old were diligently practicing martial arts under the guidance of a middle-aged man.
The scene made Zhang Yuan's throat even drier. He pursed his lips and continued walking toward the wooden house.
But before he reached the gate, the middle-aged man stepped forward to block him.
The man was tall and dark-skinned, with a long scar across his left cheek. His sharp eyes exuded a fierce aura.
His gaze toward Zhang Yuan was unreadable.
"Master Gao!"
Zhang Yuan quickly set down his bamboo basket and respectfully said, "The rice price in the county rose by one wen today, so I could only buy seventy-four jin…"
"That's enough."
The man interrupted coldly, "You've worked hard. You don't need to come anymore."
Though mentally prepared, Zhang Yuan's heart still sank when he heard these cold words.
He paused, then asked bitterly, "Master Gao, did I do something wrong?"
In Chen Family Village, which had over a hundred households and around five to six hundred people, two individuals were widely respected—one was the scholarly, slightly skilled healer Mr. Chen, and the other was this man before him, Gao the Hunter.
After regaining his past-life memories, Zhang Yuan first learned to read and write from Mr. Chen, and then tried everything to curry favor with Gao the Hunter.
It was said Gao was once a soldier who returned to the village after being injured. He lived by hunting and was known for his formidable strength—he had once killed a black bear single-handedly. If not for his crippled leg, he could've secured a good job at the county office or in a wealthy household.
But Gao was aloof and cold, rarely associating with villagers and very difficult to approach.
To learn martial skills from him, Zhang Yuan endured cold shoulders and ridicule, and served him diligently.
Like today, he had risen before dawn to trek twenty li to the county to buy and carry back dozens of jin of rice.
As for chopping wood and carrying water, he had done those countless times.
After more than three years, even a stone should've warmed under his persistence, yet today he was doused with cold water.
Even someone with two lifetimes of resilience couldn't help but feel angry.
Gao glanced at him and said, "You did well, and I know what you're after. I had considered taking you as a disciple, but…"
He pointed to the three boys in the courtyard: "Yesterday, Master Chen Defeng brought his sons to apprentice under me, and offered generous gifts. Do you understand?"
Master Chen Defeng?
Zhang Yuan was shocked—why would a wealthy landowner send his sons to a remote village to learn martial arts?
Regardless, he had no way to compete with children of such status.
Suppressing his bitterness and confusion, Zhang Yuan lowered his head and replied, "I understand."
"Good."
Gao nodded, seemingly pleased with Zhang Yuan's tact.
The man picked up the bamboo basket, hobbled a few steps, then turned back, reaching into his robe and tossing some silver and copper coins onto the ground: "Go home."
Zhang Yuan instinctively clenched his fists at the sight of the scattered coins.
Then, he slowly opened his hand, bent down, and carefully picked up every last one.
He had earned them.
As he straightened up, his eyes met those of the eldest of the wealthy boys in the courtyard.
The boy folded his arms, smirking with contempt and mockery, as if looking at a pitiful beggar.
Another boy made a face at Zhang Yuan, clearly scornful.
As if to say: How dare a lowly peasant dream of learning martial arts?
Zhang Yuan turned and silently walked away.
Not far off, he heard taunts from behind:
"Big brother, that guy looks like a black monkey!"
"Haha, overestimating himself!"
"Forget him. Let's keep training."
"Ha!"
Zhang Yuan ignored them.
He didn't shout some clichéd line like 'Don't bully a poor youth—just wait thirty years!'
But the humiliation he suffered today—he would never forget.
He would turn it into the fuel to climb ever higher!
Missing one opportunity was fine. He was still young, and there would be more to come.
But what Zhang Yuan didn't expect was that upon returning to his home at the east end of the village, he saw three or four people gathered outside, with neighbors peeking curiously.
His mother, a frail and aged woman, was weeping as she pleaded with the people blocking their door.
"Mother!"
Zhang Yuan rushed forward, gripping the hatchet at his waist.
"Yuan'er is back!"
A sharp-eyed neighbor called out.
The men at the door turned. A shifty-looking man holding an account book shouted, "You must be Zhang Yuan? Good timing!"
Zhang Yuan noticed the man was accompanied by strong, armed guards.
He immediately stopped, subtly letting go of the hatchet. "I'm Zhang Yuan. Tell me what this is about."
In this life, Zhang Yuan had lost his father early and lived with his widowed mother. At fifteen, he was already the pillar of the family.
"Fine."
The man, resembling a government clerk, twirled his mustache arrogantly. "The county is assigning corvée labor. Chen Family Village must send thirty households. Yours is one of them. You'll report to the county next month for five months of service."
Zhang Yuan was shocked: "But my family served last year! Why again this year?"
To common folk, being forced into corvée labor was terrifying. It lasted months or even over a year, required you to bring your own food, and involved exhausting and dangerous work.
Returning injured or emaciated was common. Some never came back.
Last year, Zhang Yuan's mother sold her last bits of jewelry to pay silver in place of labor.
They thought they'd be safe for a few years—but now it was happening again.
They were being pushed to the brink.
"Last year was last year. This year is this year!"
The clerk sneered. "From now on, Master Chen will oversee all taxes and labor in this village. If you don't want to serve, pay five taels of silver instead."
"Five taels?!"
Zhang Yuan's eyes widened. "It was three taels last year. Why five now?"
"I told you—last year is last year."
The man smirked. "This year, Master Chen is rebuilding the ancestral hall. Every household must contribute. You're getting a discount."
"Three days. Pay up, or go to the county."
"We're leaving!"
Zhang Yuan watched them leave arrogantly, then helped his mother into their dilapidated hut.
She clutched his arm, crying: "Yuan'er, what do we do? Maybe… maybe you should run!"
Her grip tightened. "Run far away. Don't come back. Leave me behind!"
"Mother, it'll be okay."
Zhang Yuan gently held her frail hand and said firmly, "I'll find a way."
Though his words were steady, a burning fury lit up his eyes.
This damned world!
(End of Chapter)
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