Chapter 1: Chapter One

"When I woke up... the whole world had changed." Mumbling to himself, Bai Lang curled into a ball and looked at the scene around him. That's right, he didn't recognize the scene at all — he didn't even know where he was. By all rights he should have been lounging around in front of his computer at home — it was a rare day off, after all — but what was this broken-down temple and the stinking straw? And what was this set of smelly, tattered rags he was wearing?

His situation seemed to be that of a little beggar? The question was, what on earth had happened? Bai Lang stood up and confirmed that he had indeed become a child, though thankfully still a male one, with his hands and feet intact and no signs of having been "harvested and crippled." He prepared to go to the door to take a look — there was no one else around anyway. The scene outside confirmed to Bai Lang that he had transmigrated — actually, his current situation alone was proof enough. He had somehow ended up here, and his body's age had shrunk; that was sufficient proof of the existence of supernatural forces.

The scene before him was this: beyond the broken-down temple lay a stretch of fields, with a backdrop of rolling mountains. There was no one on the main road, but there were people working in the fields.

Just as Bai Lang was at a loss for what to do, a little beggar came running in from outside. "Why aren't you going yet? Today the Changle Gang is opening Kaishantang, recruiting little odd-job workers! You want to sit here and starve to death? Hurry up and come with me!" This little beggar was a head taller than Bai Lang, and his features were quite resolute — though that was probably just because he was so thin that his eyes looked comparatively large. Bai Lang was grabbed by this fellow and, unable to resist, was dragged along at a run.

As he ran, Bai Lang really couldn't recall the name of the person in front of him. "Didn't they say soul transmigration should come with fused memories? Judging by this guy's tone and manner, he doesn't seem like a stranger — he must be very familiar with me? Could it be physical transmigration? Replacing someone who looks exactly like me?" But it's best not to let one's mind wander while running — sure enough, Bai Lang immediately stepped on empty ground and was about to tumble forward.

Instinctively, he began adjusting his center of gravity. Contrary to Bai Lang's expectations, his adjustment was both fast and excellent — the moment his foot stepped on air, he immediately pushed off from that empty foot, took a solid step forward, and his rear foot followed suit. As for his shifting center of gravity, he brought it back into line by swinging his arms. This was the standard of a gymnast. Bai Lang knew that his past self, before transmigrating, could absolutely never have done this — he would definitely have ended up face-down in the dirt.

But after this little incident, Bai Lang didn't dare overthink it — first get to the destination. At this point he discovered another good thing: even running at full speed like this, his breathing was still fairly steady, and he wasn't starting to pant like a bellows... His past self, that sedentary office废物, would by now be on the ground gasping like a dog.

This burst of running lasted nearly half a shichen. While marveling at his current physical stamina, Bai Lang was also eyeing the fellow beside him with surprise — this guy had also run the whole distance without panting or slowing down, as if that face wasn't half-starved and skinny to death. "Perhaps there really is something supernatural about this place. I forgot — earlier he mentioned the Changle Gang... Could it be that there's actually so-called martial arts here? Changle Gang, Changle Gang? Could this be the world of 'The Smiling, Proud Wanderer'?" Speaking of the Changle Gang, where else could it be? Isn't it just 'The Smiling, Proud Wanderer'?

On the small drill ground ahead, there were children everywhere — little beggars about his size, and naturally also children from commoner families whose clothes were fairly clean. They were all looking at a platform up ahead. No one had sat down behind the platform yet, but presumably registration would happen here shortly. Only now did Bai Lang think to pat himself down, and the result was that around his neck he felt a small metal tag strung on a cord so dirty its color couldn't be made out — equally grimy. It wasn't gold or silver; it was a small copper piece.

The copper tag was very small, about half a finger-length long. To Bai Lang it looked like a shrunken dog tag, with curving linear characters on it that appeared to be some kind of seal script — but Bai Lang couldn't make them out now. First, it was dirty; second, he really couldn't read seal script well. Just as he was studying the dog tag, a voice spread across the entire square — it wasn't very loud, but it seemed to echo right by his ear. Based on the martial-arts novels he had read, Bai Lang took this to be the supreme manifestation of internal force mastery.

What he saw was a man dressed as a Master, accompanied by eight big men lined up. The Master had already sat down in a chair — he had been the one speaking just now. "Everyone here is in ancient costume, and I don't know what dynasty it is — 'The Smiling, Proud Wanderer' didn't write that either, but it's definitely not the Tang Dynasty for sure," Bai Lang thought. What the Master said was for everyone to be quiet and line up; there was no need to rush — registration would be done one by one before testing began.

The testing was naturally done by those eight big men. The so-called test was simple — just feel the children's joints and squeeze their muscles — at least that's what Bai Lang saw. The queue had reached Bai Lang. He walked up to the table. "Name?" The Master raised his head and looked into his eyes. Bai Lang couldn't read any expression in those eyes at all — he only felt them extremely piercing, forcing him to lower his head slightly. "Bai Lang," he said.

The Master's brush flew like lightning, and he immediately wrote down those two characters. It seemed the writing here wasn't any different. "Age?" Bai Lang was instantly stumped — how would he know his age? He had been almost thirty before transmigrating, damn it, but how did this body look thirty? Fortunately, Bai Lang was quick-witted and sharp; he estimated his height and immediately reported an age of "twelve."

Although he had lowered his head, Bai Lang could still feel an X-ray-like gaze sizing him up and down. Given that this was a martial-arts master, one couldn't rule out the possibility that the other was using internal force to sense him — who could blame him, when this Master looked like a master among masters among masters? The other party grunted "Mm." From his lowered-head angle, Bai Lang could still see the other write the character "twelve," but there were no further questions. One of the big men directly grabbed Bai Lang and felt his bones up and down.

"No hidden injuries, sinews and bones all intact, no traces of broken bones having healed." The big man's hands were very fast — in a few breaths he had finished feeling Bai Lang's bones — the focus being on the spine and the four limbs. This counted as Bai Lang passing. Next was just a bath and a change of clothes. This time, however, Bai Lang didn't go together with the little beggar who had dragged him here — speaking of which, he didn't even know the fellow's name, though the fellow had also passed.

After changing clothes and taking his number tag, Bai Lang became the lowest-ranking little odd-job worker of the Changle Gang — the tag didn't say 9527, but 1024...