“Roll call, roll call! Line up, you wretched dogs! Move it, or do I have to sh you out here?”
A cmor of harsh shouts pierced through the window.
Jiang Heng’s eyes flew open, as if he’d just broken the surface after drowning. He bolted upright, chest heaving with ragged gasps. Sweat streamed down his forehead like a downpour, dripping onto the worn straw mat beneath him, each drop nding with a faint plink.
A straw mat?
My pce doesn’t have anything like this. Where the hell am I?
And what’s with those shouts outside?
Confusion churned in his mind as he scanned his surroundings, eyes widening in disbelief. He was in a ramshackle hut, its cracked mud walls barely standing. The roof, a patchwork of straw and cy, let icy gusts whistle through its gaps.
He’d just been drenched in sweat, but the freezing wind hit like a dive into an icy void. His teeth chattered uncontrolbly.
“Have I… transmigrated?”
He racked his brain, and a torrent of unfamiliar memories flooded in. He was no longer James. He was Jiang Heng, a lowly mountain dweller in the wilds of the Great Qing Dynasty.
The southwestern reaches of Great Qing were a maze of dense forests cloaked in deadly miasma. Ordinary folk who ventured in faced near-certain death. Yet within that toxic haze y treasures beyond imagination—elixirs that could heal any ailment, double one’s lifespan, and skyrocket martial prowess. Their worth was immeasurable.
And so, the Mountain Patrol Division was born.
They ruled the mountain folk with an iron grip, forcing them to brave the forests and harvest these riches at regur intervals. The mountain folk were the dregs of society. They gathered priceless treasures, only to hand them over to nobles and officials. The miasma’s poison ravaged their bodies, leaving them to die young and miserable.
The finest silks adorn those who never touch the loom.
The original owner of this body had been one such soul, struck down by miasma while gathering treasures. He’d fallen gravely ill and perished. Now, the shouts outside were guards rallying the mountain folk for another deadly expedition.
“Damn it,” Jiang Heng muttered. “I barely survived st time, and now I’ve got to go again?”
It was like a hammer to the skull. His mind reeled, despair sinking into his bones. He thought about hiding, refusing to go. But one look at his barren, empty hut told him there was nowhere to run.
In Great Qing, your status was sealed at birth. The lowest were mountain folk, sves, and the like. Above them were commoners and artisans, then soldiers and hunters. Higher still were the elite officials.
Jiang Heng? He was a mountain dweller, a mountain folk.
For them, harvesting treasures was a sacred duty. Defy it, and you’d face prison—or the executioner’s bde.
Damn it all!
He staggered out the door, his steps shaky and weak. This body had succumbed to the miasma, and though his transmigration had given it a second chance, it was far from healed. In this state, the forest would be his grave.
Death’s the only thing waiting for me.
Outside, a crowd of gaunt, ragged mountain folk had already gathered, their faces hollow with hunger and dread.
“You… how’re you still…”
A weasel-faced man with a head full of sores froze at the sight of Jiang Heng. His face paled, and he stumbled back several steps.
Rat Li…
The name fshed in his mind, followed by a faint voice and blurry images.
“You’re as good as dead, so why not let me take your coin…”
The truth hit like a thunderbolt. While the original owner y dying, ravaged by miasma, Rat Li had crept into his hut under cover of night and looted every st coin he’d saved. Worse, fearing revenge, Rat Li had wrapped his hands around the man’s throat, squeezing until the life drained out.
He murdered me.
No wonder Rat Li looked like he’d seen a ghost when Jiang Heng walked out alive. Jiang Heng’s hand instinctively patted his pocket. Cleaner than a whistle.
Forget the forest’s dangers—he couldn’t even afford a crust of bread for the trip!
The original owner scraped by for years to save three taels of silver. I’ve got to get that money back…
But in his frail, starving state, he was no match for Rat Li. The thought was crushed as soon as it formed.
Worse, while Jiang Heng wanted to let it slide for now, Rat Li had other ideas. After his initial shock, a sinister glint sparked in the man’s eyes. He sidled closer, acting like he wanted to team up for the expedition.
Even a fool can see this bastard’s up to no good.
Is he here to finish the job?
A chill gripped Jiang Heng’s heart. What kind of cursed start was this? A nobody with no coin, hunted by a murdering thug?
When it rains, it pours—nothing’s going my way!
Had he transmigrated just to die again? Despair cwed at him, but then, a faint tremor pulsed through his mind. Deep in his sea of consciousness, a golden light fred to life, bzing like the sun and dazzling him senseless.
He forced himself to focus through the pain. Within that radiant glow was a faint golden cauldron.
“This cauldron…”
He nearly shouted. Before transmigrating, he’d bought a replica cauldron at an antique shop. While messing with it at home, he’d dropped it, and it shattered. From the broken pieces, a tiny, almond-sized cauldron had tumbled out. When he touched it, everything Keeper Went bck.
And now, he was here.
He reached out with his mind to the cauldron. Instantly, vivid visions unfolded. A vast, endless forest stretched before him, brimming with jagged peaks, rare herbs, and countless treasures. Spirits and monsters roamed within, with fshes of mythical beasts—a colossal fish-bird, a radiant phoenix, and a majestic dragon—darting past.
This boundless world froze, colpsing into a single scroll. The scroll fluttered, absorbed by the golden cauldron.
Golden text shimmered on the cauldron’s surface.
[Cauldron Master: Jiang Heng][Fate: Subduing Demons in the Mountains][Fate Attribute: Rising Star of the Forest]
Am I the master of this cauldron now?
What in the heavens does this thing do?
His heart pounded with anticipation. This world was no ordinary pce. The strong could vault over rooftops and live for centuries—tales even a lowly peasant like him had heard. Legends spoke of beings like gods, wielding powers to summon storms, shift mountains, and reshape seas.
Could this cauldron be his key to that path?
As he wondered, a strange bond formed with the cauldron. A faint golden aura flowed from it, rushing toward him.
Buzz!
A warm current surged into his nose and mouth, coursing down his throat and into his core. In an instant, his weakness vanished. He felt alive, brimming with vigor.
The only catch? With his sickness gone, his hunger roared even louder. Penniless, food was a serious problem.
He gnced at the cauldron again. New golden text, elegant and flowing, had appeared.
[Fate Ability: Qi Devouring (Minor Mastery): Consume mountain miasma, heighten spiritual sensitivity, and detect spiritual objects within range.]
Qi Devouring?
No wonder his miasma-ravaged body had healed so fast—the cauldron had devoured the poison inside him!
And the benefits didn’t stop there. He was now immune to the miasma.
Why was treasure-hunting in Great Qing’s mountains a death sentence for most? The thick, fog-like miasma that cimed lives.
But now, he was untouchable. Didn’t that mean scouring those endless mountains would be a walk in the park?
Wealth, power, and a name to shake the heavens—they were no longer dreams.
A path to greatness had opened!
