Spanning a vast distance like a sea, ancient trees whispered tales of centuries gone by, their gnarled branches stretching like ancient guardians against the canvas of the fog-laden sky.

In the heart of this ancient forest, nestled between towering peaks was an illustrious Immortal Cultivation Sect.

A misty shroud veiled the ancient architecture, where towering pagodas and ornate bridges seemed to float amid the clouds, creating an illusory city hidden from the prying eyes of mortals.

But for cultivators with a keen vision, they would be able to see a sect chained together by multiple rocky mountain peaks, each resembling skyward piercing swords.

Below, stone huts wound around the peaks like sleeping dragons, dotting the landscape of agriculture with pegs of life.

Within one of these small huts, dimly lit by light of dawn seeping through the gaps in the wooden door, a teenage man in a worn robe laid on a clay stove bed.

Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, their presence a stark contrast to the cold surface beneath him.

Hanging over his head was an ominous dark fog, birthing misty tentacles that snaked toward the young man, drilling into his abdominal cavity and bringing the whispers of a fragmentary babble...

“...Wei o lef… Etern noc bing o wund ta… Cai uyi ye ling… Aris khan haru bine o Qi, waku uy, waku uy...”

“Wake up!” The jarring voice of reality caused the young man to abruptly sit up, his muscles stiff from another restless night.

“Those strange murmurs again…” Rubbing his brow to ease the headache, the young man glanced around his humble dwelling, seemingly oblivious to the dissipating clouds overhead.

Reality soon crashed over him like a tidal wave, washing away the mush in his brain. "That's right..."

Memories of his humble origins flooded his mind.

He was Fang Bubai, the son of a couple in a small, backward village. His parents had named him Fang Bubai, hoping for a life where their son would be invincible... at least within the confines of their modest home.

Yet, the name didn’t bless their son as they had expected. Despite their aspirations, Fang Bubai had fallen gravely ill one harsh winter, only to awaken with a soul not his own.

Pro Ye, a 20th-century traveler, fell asleep after studying for his culture test on his bed, but when he woke up again, he had found himself abruptly transmigrated into Fang Bubai's body.

Confused and disoriented, Pro grappled with the sudden change, mourning the loss of the modern conveniences he had taken for granted.

No internet, no electricity, and a life of toil in an ancient village that seemed light-years away from his previous existence.

Not only that, he didn’t seem to have received any golden finger! Gone were the thoughts of rising to the moon with one step.

Yet, in the face of adversity, Pro decisively adapted. From then on, he was Fang Bubai!

Thus, the mundane routine of chores, errands, and playing with other children became his daily reality. It was a down-to-earth, rural life, a stark departure from the modern childhood he had known.

However, hidden beneath the monotony was a flame of determination.

With his previous life’s modern business acumen, he harbored ambitions far beyond the plowing the village fields.

He envisioned a future where he could elevate their living conditions and transform himself into a prosperous landlord. He even dreamed of ascending the social hierarchy, perhaps even reaching the pinnacle of nobility or kingship!

As a transmigrator, he could at least achieve that much, right?

Of course, to avoid suspicion, he carefully crafted himself as a curious boy with a childish, yet bright mind, earning the trust of his parents and the villagers through his “spontaneous inspirations”.

Through this image, he seamlessly integrated some basic modern tools and ideas into the village, becoming the “lucky star” of the village.

Washed by each summer’s heat, bathed in the icy winters.

His plans for prosperity and social ascent were slowly taking root, and it seemed like everything was falling into place.

However, at the age of ten, the tranquility of the village was shattered when an immortal fell from the skies, crashing into their humble farm!

Witnessing the celestial descent ruining his harvest, the truth dawned on Bubai - this was not just any rural village. He didn’t travel back in time... but to a rural part of a cultivation world!

The injured immortal, saved by the village chief's questionable quack skills... recovered through the use of his own pills afterwards.

Due to the chief's “enthusiastic” hospitality, despite his arrogance, the immortal was too embarrassed to only use money to severe their cause and effect.

So, in an unexpected turn of events, the immortal decided to perfunctorily test the spiritual roots of the village children to see if any had the talent for cultivation.

All the villagers were naturally jubilant.

In this world, normal mortals only had an average life span of 50 years, rather high for these low-living standards, but relatively low when compared to modern times and powerful humans of this world.

So, the possibility of increasing life span and possibly even achieving immortality certainly excited them, Bubai included.

And cultivation was the key. Thus, this was a route Bubai was firm on pursuing.

However, he certainly didn’t want to jump into this pit without any research. Who knows if this “immortal” was actually a “demonic” cultivator. If he ends up in the hands of a demonic cultivator, he might not even live as long as a normal mortal!

Alas, he hoped to keep a low profile, but still found himself subjected to the sudden examination.

Then, to everyone’s utter surprise, he actually possessed a low-grade wood-attribute spiritual roots!

The passerby immortal, eager to recruit talents for his sect, “immediately” saw “potential” in him.

With no room for refusal under the overbearing methods of the immortal, his life took a drastic turn.

After the immortal left a substantial sum of mortal money for Fang Bubai's parents, as the village children stared with envy, Bubai left the village under the watchful gaze of the villagers and his parents, who looked on with a mix of happiness and worry.

Fortunately, the one who picked him up was not a demonic cultivator.

Thus, Bubai soon found himself in a completely different world within the orthodox Cloud Sword Sect, an unknown distance away from the simplicity of his mortal starter village.

Senior Brother Chen, the one who had brought him back, registered him as a handyman disciple.

After emphasizing the rarity of the opportunity that had befallen him and that Bubai could go find him in the inner sect if he encounters any problems, Senior Brother Chen left him with a bowl of chicken soup.

“Little brother, I’m optimistic about you! I look forward to the day you soar through the dragon’s gate!”

Leaving those words, the senior brother left him in the hands of the handyman manager with the rest of the children. And then… there was no more.

The cold harsh reality soon set in. He was naive to think a foundation establishment cultivator would care about a mere handyman disciple.

Handyman disciples were at the bottom of the sect hierarchy, with no freedom to enter or exit the outer sect, let alone the inner sect where Senior Brother Chen resided. Despite the man’s seemingly well-intentioned words, Bubai realized that finding his supposed backer would be an impossible task!

As days turned into weeks, he even discovered the true motive behind his recruitment.

Foundation establishment disciples were rewarded with spirit stones based on the spiritual roots of the disciples they brought in.

Although his low-grade spiritual roots were at the bottom of the hierarchy, for most cultivators, they couldn’t afford to let even this small amount of resource slip through their hands.

Ah, the worth of the living...

Though initially disappointed, Bubai chose not to harbor resentment towards Senior Brother Chen.

Entering the sect was a unique opportunity, one that many mortals could only dream of and many others would give their lives for. Being able to enter directly through the backdoor as a handyman disciple could already be considered a great grace.

Acknowledging this, he decided to make the most of his situation.

Rootless and without a mentor to guide him, Bubai endured the scolding and exploitation of the sect, lowering his head to the mundane, exhausting chores from morning to night, all the while harboring a quiet determination to rise above his humble status.

At night, when many of the other young disciples of his age slumbered, Bubai, like many of the other older, matured handyman disciples, ardently practiced the basic Qi refining cultivation manual provided to every member.

The manual outlined nine levels of Qi refining, and he knew that reaching at least level four, the mid stage of Qi refining, before turning 18 was their sole ticket to entering the outer sect.

Plenty of time, right?

Indeed, his expectations had been optimistic. The initial excitement of sensing his first wisp of Qi within days of meditating had bolstered his expectations further.

Based on the intel he gathered from his seniors in their handyman group, he knew that his talent for sensing Qi wasn’t at the genius level, but it was still considered decent. Presumably, he could enter the first level within months, if not within a year at the slowest.

Provided he remained diligent over the years, his prospect of reaching the fourth level seemed like an achievable goal.

However, reality soon knocked on his door.

TUK! TUK! TUK!

The thunderous raps echoed through the hut, shaking its very foundation.

“Wake up, you useless waste!” A grouchy voice pierced through the clamor from beyond the door, "Don't make me kick down this door and drag you out!"

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Bubai's lips. Today's the day, huh?