"Hey, wake up, wake up."
Kris groggily opened his eyes to see a bearded, weathered middle-aged man.
"Damn!"
Startled, Kris scrambled back, pressing against the wall, trembling as he asked,
"Who are you? How did you get in?"
As he spoke, he realized something was off—he was speaking Korean?
"Hehe, I saw your door was unlocked, so I came in. Rent's due this month, right?"
The man stepped back, straightening up and smiling.
Why is it still Korean? And I understand it? Kris was confused, looking around.
Just waking up, he'd been too groggy to notice, but now he saw he was in a completely different room.
Even more cramped than his previous rental, a narrow single bed extended under a desk. To the left of the desk, a bookshelf leaned against the wall, and to the right, a chair was placed against the wall.
The desk's width was the room's width. On it lay a backpack, pressing down on scattered books.
"Hey, no talking means no rent!"
Seeing Kris looking around and ignoring him, the man's expression turned unfriendly.
Kris was about to respond when a sharp pain stabbed his mind, boiling his thoughts. He knelt on the bed, howling in agony.
"Damn, stop pretending. Rent's not optional."
The man grabbed Kris's collar, pulling him up, but seeing his pain-reddened eyes, he let go.
Not only his eyes, but his neck, arms, and exposed skin felt scorching hot to the touch.
"I didn't touch him; he just did that."
The man retreated, explaining to other tenants who'd opened their doors at the screams.
Soon, several people gathered at the door.
"Should we call an ambulance?"
"You call it."
"Why don't you call?"
"I've got studying to do. Later."
"Eh? Looks like he's okay."
Only the landlord, the middle-aged man, seemed worried. If someone died here, rent for his exam prep housing would drop.
Kris slowly got up from the bed. Seventeen years of memories had merged into his mind. Though his head still throbbed, he could think clearly.
Seeing him stand, the onlookers lost interest and left, leaving only the landlord.
"Uh..." Kris endured the occasional pain and continued,
"Tomorrow, I'll definitely pay the rent."
The previously stern landlord now seemed deflated, muttering,
"Definitely pay tomorrow."
Then he closed the door and left.
Kris collapsed back onto the bed, realizing his sweat-soaked clothes from the pain. He stripped off his shirt, slowly sorting through the new memories in his mind.
But as he examined his arms, palms, the mole on his forearm, the muscle lines on his upper arm, and... unbuckling his belt, holding it in his hand...
This is my body, just younger. What's going on? And these new memories?
In these memories, the Kris living in Korea shared his name and resembled him closely, but his life was tragic.
His parents died in a car accident, ruled at fault, and their assets were liquidated for compensation, leaving him only enough savings for university tuition.
Amid this devastation, he had to find housing, work part-time for living expenses, and study tirelessly, even spending days homeless.
Last night, he'd felt unwell, already feverish for two days. He'd persevered through work, took the next day off, and collapsed into bed after returning.
Midnight brought a sudden heart attack. Struggling to reach his phone, it was too late. He passed away.
So, he'd replaced him?
"Sigh."
Reflecting, Kris sighed. Even from his pre-transmigration perspective, the original's life was too tragic. A young man abruptly facing such hardships, yet neither dropping out nor falling behind in studies, was remarkable.
The original's motivation was largely to enter a prestigious university, secure a good job and family, fulfilling his parents' hopes.
Similarly, this was Kris's own aspiration. In this country, without entering a renowned chaebol, ordinary people faced the three mountains: chaebols, cults, and gangs.
"Huh? This country?"
Kris suddenly realized this Korea differed from the one he knew.
Here, society was even more chaotic. The upper echelons were controlled by a few chaebol groups, cults thrived regionally, and gangs were everywhere, intertwined with the former two. The police, long corrupted, acted as their accomplices.
Thus, working for a chaebol or joining their armed forces was the best path. Cults and gangs wouldn't touch those places.
This was his parents' lifelong teaching and hope, unable to achieve it themselves, leading to their difficult lives.
"Huff..."
Kris sighed deeply, suddenly uncertain about his future.
"Come to think of it, people here are strange. Asian features, yet hair and eye colors are naturally vibrant."
He opened his phone's front camera. Thankfully, he had black hair and eyes, less jarring.
"System? Bro System?"
He tried calling out in his mind. With such an absurd transmigration, a system wouldn't be odd, right?
A translucent attribute panel appeared in his mind, with a frosted glass background and three lines in standard Song typeface:
Physical Fitness: 3
Mentality: 2
Primary Cultivation Method: Mirror of Wind and Moon
Seeing the cultivation method, Kris's eyes widened. That's the book I bought!
Did this cause my transmigration? Who was that beggar? Are there really immortals?
His mind raced, taking a while to calm down.
The numbers for physical fitness and mentality were followed by a question mark in a circle. Kris clicked it in his mind, bringing up a tooltip:
'10 points: Human Limit'
Hmph, this UI is too crude, like a third-rate app.
He looked at the cultivation method, recalling its contents, but strangely, he couldn't remember.
Clicking on it in his mind, the text transformed into a floating book, glowing with golden light, surrounded by fragrant flowers and dancing fairies. Kris was stunned. These effects are amazing!
Eagerly flipping to the first page, the book vanished, leaving only the attribute panel. But the first section's content appeared in his memory.
Nurturing Qi Stage
What kind of name is this? It has nothing to do with novel-style cultivation.
It was divided into two parts.
The first was a breathing technique: three long, two short, one deep, nine shallow breaths—extremely awkward.
The second was long-distance running. Kris double-checked; it was indeed running, with a minimum requirement of 10 kilometers in 40 minutes.
This stage was estimated to take three months. The goal was to nurture true qi during running, achieving an unending flow, while maintaining a pure yang body—no breaking chastity.
Why no breaking chastity? It only mentioned that doing so would greatly delay progress, with no further explanation, perhaps revealed later.
Kris reluctantly reviewed the memory several times. Where are the pills? The spells? Is this it?
Grumbling, he looked at the lone attribute panel, randomly clicking. Where are the tasks? The newbie gift pack?
Accidentally clicking the cultivation method again, even the effects were gone, just a tooltip: Upon completion, the next method will automatically appear.
Defeated, Kris lay back on the bed. This system is too crude. Couldn't the immortals have designed a better UI?
Staring blankly at the ceiling, this cheat is so weak. What will my future be? Should I just return home? But as a foreigner, I won't get local benefits.
Lost in thought, his stomach growled. Kris got up. Whatever, first things first—fill my stomach.
Sitting up, he felt dizzy, perhaps from lying too long. His spirit was also low, recalling the '2' in mentality. This value is too low.
Listlessly, he put on his sportswear, planning to run later. Checking his wallet, he had 10,000 won—enough for a meal.
Kris stepped out of the room into a narrow corridor, rooms lining both sides, maximizing space.
Downstairs, outside, he looked at the Korean signs and distant skyscrapers, sighing deeply. Facing this familiar yet strange environment, the unreality finally faded. I've truly transmigrated.