Chapter 1: Transmigration

This is a wilderness as if countless pixels were stacked together, the wilderness bearing obvious tear marks, as if it had just undergone the baptism of an earthquake, with deep, bottomless black fissures crisscrossing the ground.

Luo Yang felt that he was a blatantly out-of-place existence in this wilderness, and in this world resembling stacked pixels, Luo Yang was the sole high-definition image within it.

Luo Yang stared blankly as his left hand gradually turned into countless tiny pixel blocks, fear filling his chest; at this moment Luo Yang felt suffocated and unable to breathe.

Clearly I merely tried out, out of curiosity, the fortune‑turning ritual that Zhou Mingrui from Lord of the Mysteries performed before his transmigration, and yet I inexplicably ended up in this strange place, as if I had truly transmigrated.

Luo Yang doesn't remember the transmigration process; he only felt his head go dizzy for a moment, and when he came to, he found himself standing in a wilderness that seemed to be made of stacked pixel blocks.

The fear and curiosity of the unknown made Luo Yang reach out to touch the weeds on the ground; feeling no real grass texture, he thought he was hallucinating.

Upon standing and shaking his hand, a few chunks of flesh‑like material were flung from Luo Yang's body.

Luo Yang had just lowered his heart a little, then it rose again; he took the left hand that had touched the weeds and held it before his eyes, examining it repeatedly, discovering that his entire left palm had turned into a pile of pixel blocks in that short while, with flesh continually sloughing off the palm—the very chunks he had flung out when he shook his hand.

In that brief span Luo Yang noticed his left palm had already disappeared by nearly half; he carefully examined the spots where flesh had fallen from the palm, seeing no blood flow, as if the blood had ceased to circulate once the hand turned into stacked pixel blocks.

In that short time the pixelation had spread to his entire forearm; the pixelation process caused no sensation, only a feeling of something dropping when flesh fell off, while all other senses vanished.

The pixelated portion of his left hand grew larger; at this moment Luo Yang's mind was filled with panic and fear, the panicked urge making him want to flee immediately, to escape this eerie wilderness, but fear caused his body to tremble uncontrollably, preventing any escape movement or cry for help.

Lacking offerings and ritual items, Luo Yang simply followed the ritual's steps, walking backward four steps while chanting the honorific of the Fool: "The Fool who does not belong to this era; the Mysterious Sovereign above the Grey Fog; the Yellow‑Black King who holds sway over fortune."

After one round there was no response; by then the pixelation had reached Luo Yang's neck, and without hesitation he began a second recitation of the Fool's honorific, again walking backward four steps, still receiving no reply, so he started a third attempt.

Regardless of whether there was any response, Luo Yang continued to chant: "You are the Eternal Light, the Incarnation of Order, the God of Contracts, the Guardian of Commerce."

The pixelation process had already spread to the vicinity of his mouth, Luo Yang could no longer feel his chin, and the instinct to survive drove him to keep chanting: "You are the Incarnation of Essence, the Protector of Artisans, the Radiance of Technology."

Unsurprisingly, the pixelation process did not stop, Luo Yang felt his consciousness beginning to blur, and the final survival instinct compelled him to chant the sole name he remembered that points to an outer god: "The Unique Red Moon, symbol of life and beauty, mother of all spiritual power."

The last part of the honorific was muttered silently by Luo Yang in his heart; at this moment the pixelation had spread to his face, his mouth could no longer produce sound, and his consciousness then sank into silence.

After an unknown amount of time, a tearing‑like pain once again entered Luo Yang's consciousness, and this tearing‑like pain also awakened his dormant consciousness.

"Hiss~" As consciousness gradually cleared, the tearing‑like pain in his head became even clearer and more intense.

Only after Luo Yang gradually grew accustomed to this intense pain did he faintly sense the existence of his body; at this moment the only thought in his mind was: "I'm still alive after all!"

Hiss— As consciousness gradually became clear, the tearing‑like pain in the head also became clearer and more intense.

After the tearing‑like pain persisted for a while before beginning to subside, Luo Yang then truly felt the pain coming from every part of his body, and his brain, torn apart by the pain, also began to heal.

Indeed, it was healing; Luo Yang's hand clutching his head clearly felt that his skull had truly split open during that earlier tearing‑like pain, as if something had grown out from within, but as the pain faded, the torn wound on his skull quickly writhed and healed.

"Hiss! What a genuinely physical tearing‑like pain!" Luo Yang couldn't help but mutter a complaint to himself.

Once the pain on his body had diminished to about what his body could endure, Luo Yang struggled to his feet from the ground; the surrounding scene was no longer the wilderness that looked like countless stacked pixel blocks with many unfathomable fissures torn across it, but rather a study that seemed to have a certain aged feel, of an unknown style.

The whole room, aside from a door and a window, was filled with standing bookshelves, the shelves laden with all kinds of books; in the middle of the room stood a large, wide desk, with a chair on each side, one of which appeared to be for receiving guests—but who would receive guests in a study?

Luo Yang continued to survey the room; between the two rows of bookshelves on the side with the large door stood a mirror of his height.

When Luo Yang saw this mirror, he froze; the reflection showed a somewhat slender figure with blond hair and blue eyes, clear facial contours, thin lips and thick eyebrows, a straight nose bridge, pale‑blue eyes that shone brightly as if tiny points of light swirled within, features handsome yet slightly immature, clearly a young man about eighteen or nineteen, between adolescence and adulthood.

His clothing was also strange, making it hard to discern its style; the upper half consisted of a white shirt, a dark brown jacket, and a khaki‑tinged long coat, while the lower half was black wide‑leg trousers paired with dark brown knee‑high boots; overall the style resembled that of medieval European nobility, yet leaned toward a modern aesthetic, but Luo Yang could not fathom why a windbreaker‑style coat would be present.

Luo Yang stared at the reflection in the mirror, blankly turning his neck slightly; the person in the mirror moved his neck in tandem, Luo Yang took heavy steps toward the mirror, and the mirror's figure mirrored the same motion.

Only when Luo Yang's hand touched the mirror's surface did he finally confirm that the person in the mirror was his current appearance.

"Have I transmigrated again?" Luo Yang spoke, bewildered yet tinged with the joy of being reborn anew.

Earlier, in that wilderness of countless stacked pixel blocks, Luo Yang was quite certain that he still looked like his original self, until his body dissolved into countless pixel blocks and his consciousness sank into silence.

Now, having awakened once more in another body, as Luo Yang pondered, many memories gradually surfaced in his mind; his skull conveyed a familiar tearing‑like pain, though this time the pain was not as severe as before and was entirely bearable.

Dear readers who have passed by and taken a look, please leave a little brother a favorite.

Having woken again from another body up to now, as Luo Yang thinks, many memories gradually appear in the mind; the head transmits a familiar tearing‑like pain, but this time the pain is not as intense as before and is completely bearable.

Dear readers who have passed by, stopped, and looked, please give this little brother a bookmark.

(End of chapter)