1: Lin Ye, the handyman

The biting cold mountain spring water splashed on his face, making Lin Ye shiver involuntarily, and the lingering sleepiness was instantly driven away completely.

He looked up at the slightly youthful yet weary unfamiliar face in the reflection of the water basin, his eyes somewhat dazed. It had been three months since he arrived in this world and became an Outer Sect Disciple of the Qingyun Sect.

Three months ago, he was still an ordinary young man enjoying the conveniences of modern civilization. When he woke up, his Soul had occupied the body of this sixteen-year-old boy, also named “Lin Ye.” At first, he had fantasized about a Cultivation life of flying with swords and eternal life, but reality dealt him a heavy blow.

This body's Cultivation Aptitude was shockingly mediocre. In the Qingyun Sect, where Spiritual Qi was abundant, his speed in sensing Heaven and Earth Spiritual Qi was as slow as a snail. By this world's standards, he was considered “rotten wood.” Therefore, he was naturally assigned to the Outer Sect, becoming one of the lowest-tier Disciples—or rather, a menial servant.

The Outer Sect was the foundation of the Qingyun Sect, and also a place where countless individuals with mediocre Aptitude struggled to survive. There were no Immortal Caves shrouded in Immortal Qi here, only crowded, noisy dormitory courtyards filled with the smell of sweat and everyday life. Every day before dawn, Lin Ye, like hundreds of other Outer Sect Disciples, would be woken by the jarring sound of a gong to begin his day of labor.

Chopping firewood, carrying water, cleaning, helping in the kitchen, tending to spirit fields... various tedious and heavy chores occupied almost all of his time. So-called meditation and Cultivation became a luxury. Whenever night fell, and he dragged his almost broken body back to the dilapidated wooden house shared by eight people, it was difficult for him to even stay awake, let alone concentrate and calm his Qi.

“Lin Ye! What are you spacing out for! If you don't chop enough firewood before noon today, you won't get to eat!”

A rude shout pulled Lin Ye back to reality from his thoughts. The speaker was the Steward of the Menial Servants of the Outer Sect, surnamed Zhang, a middle-aged man in his forties with a dark complexion and sharp eyes. His Cultivation was not high, probably around the third or fourth layer of the Qi Refinement Stage, but he was in charge of assigning tasks and distributing food to the Outer Sect Disciples. His power was not great, but he put on considerable airs, especially enjoying making things difficult for Disciples like Lin Ye, who had no background and poor Aptitude.

“Yes, Steward Zhang, I'll go now.” Lin Ye lowered his head, hiding a hint of helplessness in his eyes, respectfully responded, picked up the somewhat worn axe leaning against the wall, and quickly walked towards the back mountain.

The Qingyun Sect was situated among a continuous range of mountains, and the back mountain was vast, with ancient trees reaching the sky. For Outer Sect Disciples, it was both a place to complete firewood chopping tasks and a hidden danger of low-level Yao Beasts.

In the forest in the early morning, the mist had not yet completely dispersed. The air was fresh, carrying the fragrance of grass, trees, and earth. Normally, this might be a refreshing sight, but at this moment, Lin Ye had no mind to appreciate it. He swung his axe, chopping at the hard, bowl-sized wood, stroke after stroke.

“Rip—!”

Wood chips flew.

His tiger's mouth tingled from the shock, and his arm ached incessantly. This body was not strong to begin with, and three months of excessive labor had made him considerably thinner. Each swing of the axe required a significant amount of strength.

Sweat quickly soaked his rough linen clothes, and the stray hairs on his forehead stuck to his skin, making him very uncomfortable. Lin Ye panted, looking up at the sky. The sun had already risen high, and it was getting closer to noon.

“At this rate, I probably won't be able to complete the task again today…” A surge of anxiety and despair welled up in his heart.

The Qingyun Sect's Outer Sect had strict rules, with a comprehensive assessment at the end of the year. The assessment content included not only Cultivation progress but also the completion of tasks throughout the year. Repeated failure to meet task standards, or ranking at the bottom of the year-end assessment, would result in being mercilessly expelled from the Sect.

Being expelled meant losing the Sect's protection and meager Cultivation resources. In this dog-eat-dog Cultivation world, a low-level Cultivator abandoned by a major Sect often met a tragic end. They might become a Loose Cultivator, struggling in resource scarcity until death; or be recruited as a guard by some small Family, serving as cannon fodder.

Lin Ye, having undergone Transmigration, had no relatives or friends and mediocre Aptitude. If he were expelled, he would see almost no future.

“Am I destined to live this life of mediocrity, perhaps not even reaching my natural lifespan?” A chill rose from the bottom of his heart. He was unwilling; he had finally gotten a chance to live again, was this to be such a frustrating end?

However, reality was like an invisible net, firmly trapping him. The endless menial tasks every day drained all his time and energy. How could he Cultivate? How could he change his fate?

“Bang!”

Frustration in his heart, the strength in his hand went out of control. The axe struck off target, deeply embedding itself in the tree trunk, and he couldn't pull it out for a moment.

Lin Ye dejectedly let go of the axe handle, slid down the tree trunk, and sat on the ground, gasping for breath. Fatigue, hunger, anxiety, and fear for the future surged like a tide, almost drowning him.

He remembered Steward Zhang's meaningful look and harsh words from yesterday: “Lin Ye, it's not me talking about you, but with your Aptitude, no matter how much you struggle, it's all in vain. Just honestly do your work, and maybe the Sect, considering your hard work, will let you stay for a couple more years. Don't always think about those unrealistic things. Cultivation? That's for Geniuses!”

Most of the other Outer Sect Disciples around him also looked numb, each burying their heads in hard work. Competition in the Outer Sect was fierce, resources were limited, and relationships between people were cold and realistic. No one would sympathize with a weak person; in fact, many were happy to see others suffer, because that meant one less competitor for themselves.

Lin Ye closed his eyes, feeling the slightly cool sunlight filtering through the gaps in the branches in the forest. The initial excitement and curiosity from his Transmigration had long been worn away by the cruel reality of the past three months, leaving almost nothing. All that remained was a deep sense of powerlessness and fear of the approaching assessment.

Time was running out. The year-end assessment constantly reminded him of the approaching doomsday.

After a short rest, Lin Ye struggled to his feet, pulled out the axe, and continued to mechanically chop. Regardless, the task still had to be completed, otherwise, he wouldn't even have his meager meal today.

Survival was the most urgent problem at hand.

When he finally dragged his exhausted body, carrying a large bundle of firewood that barely met the standard, stumbling back to the Outer Sect's utility yard, it was already well past sunrise, approaching noon.

Steward Zhang glanced at him, kicked the bundle of firewood with his foot, and snorted coldly: “Dawdling! Just this little bit of firewood, and you almost missed the time! Your meal today is halved!”

Lin Ye's lips moved, wanting to argue, but in the end, he just silently lowered his head and responded, “Yes.”

He knew that arguing was meaningless and would only invite more severe punishment. In this place, the weak had no say.

Receiving half a cold, hard coarse flour bun and a small bowl of clear, almost grain-countable thin porridge, Lin Ye walked to a corner, squatted on the ground, and silently began to eat. The bun was rough and scratchy, the porridge bland, but this was the necessary energy source to maintain his physical strength.

Eating this hard-to-swallow food, and listening to Steward Zhang's gentle voice towards other Disciples who had some background or knew how to flatter him, Lin Ye's heart felt utterly cold.

The future was completely dark, without a glimmer of light.

He looked up, gazing at the distant inner Sect peaks, shrouded in clouds and mist, where Immortal Cranes flew. That was the true core of the Qingyun Sect, a place where Geniuses Cultivated, with abundant Spiritual Qi and rich resources, a world completely different from this Outer Sect.

“Inner Sect…” Lin Ye murmured, a hint of longing flashing in his eyes, but it was immediately covered by an even greater despair.

Given his current predicament, even surviving in the Outer Sect was a problem. Entering the Inner Sect? It was simply a pipe dream.

After eating, a heavier task of carrying water awaited him in the afternoon.

How should he walk the path ahead?

Lin Ye didn't know. He only felt that he was like an insect caught in a spiderweb; the more he struggled, the tighter the binds became.

Perhaps Steward Zhang was right; he really shouldn't have unrealistic fantasies. Should he accept his fate, be a menial servant, barely survive until the day he was expelled?

As soon as this thought arose, he forcibly suppressed it.

“No! Absolutely not!”

Deep in his heart, the unwillingness and stubbornness belonging to a Transmigrator were still faintly burning.

But where was hope?

He looked blankly at the sky; the sunlight was somewhat dazzling. A mountain breeze blew, carrying a chill, but it couldn't disperse the gloom in his heart.