Chapter 1: The Dashing Swindler
"FUCKING SWINDLER! A GODDAMN, NO-GOOD, CROOKED-AS-HELL SWINDLER!"
A roar of pure, unadulterated rage shattered the peaceful morning air, followed by the frantic slapping of feet on bluestone as some poor sod fled for his fucking life.
Zhang Xuan, the man responsible for the outburst, just leaned against his classroom doorframe and smirked. He stretched his arms out in a gesture of mock innocence. "Swindler? Harsh, bro. Seriously harsh," he muttered to the empty corridor. "I'm a legit teacher in this dump. All I did was offer the little shit a spot in my class. And why the 'great'? Makes me sound like some mustache-twirling villain from a bad opera."
He scratched his chin, the smirk fading as he remembered the academy director's bullshit ultimatum. "That's the seventeenth one today. One more day without a student, and my ass is grass. They'll boot me out of this lousy academy faster than you can say 'cultivation crisis'."
Let's get one thing straight: Zhang Xuan wasn't from this world. One minute, he was a simple, overworked, and underpaid high school librarian, drowning in a sea of overdue books and teenage angst. The next, he was choking on smoke, the world turning into a blistering inferno. Then... nothing. Blackness.
He woke up here, in a world that ran on pure, unadulterated Xianxia logic. A place where punching mountains in half was a valid career choice and your social status was directly proportional to how many glowing orbs you could summon. Classic shit.
He'd hoped for the standard transmigrator package: be a useless trash, get publicly humiliated by some ice-cold bitch of a fiancée, find a mysterious old grandpa in a ring, and then embark on a face-slapping tour across the continent. You know, the usual.
Fate, it seemed, had a fucking sense of humor. Instead of being the underestimated student, he'd become the most pathetic teacher in the entire Hongtian Academy. The guy whose lectures were so bad they made watching paint dry look like a peak cultural experience.
The original owner of this body was a legendary fuck-up. Weak? Check. A shitty eye for talent? Double-check. His crowning achievement? "Guiding" a student so poorly the kid's cultivation went berserk. It was the teaching equivalent of a surgeon leaving his watch inside a patient. The reputation was in the gutter. New students would rather gargle broken glass than step into his classroom.
Last year's Teacher Qualification Exam? He scored a big, fat, glorious ZERO. A fucking historic low.
The loser was so depressed he drank himself to death. Which, conveniently, left a vacant meat-suit for your boy Zhang Xuan to pilot.
Now, the academy bigwigs had issued their decree: get a student by the end of the recruitment period, or get the fuck out.
Seventeen prospects today. Seventeen times he'd opened his mouth. Seventeen times they'd heard his name and bolted like he was offering free hugs with the plague.
"Time to channel my inner con artist," Zhang Xuan thought, a plan beginning to form in his brilliantly scheming mind. "Just gotta find the right mark."
As if on cue, a head peeked around the corner. A girl. She looked young, maybe seventeen, with wide, innocent eyes that screamed "I still think my elders have all the answers." Adorably naive. Perfect.
"Um... excuse me?" she asked, her voice sweet and unsure. "Is this... Teacher Lu Xun's classroom?"
Teacher Lu Xun. Of fucking course. The academy's golden boy. The guy whose classes were so packed people hung from the fucking rafters. Zhang Xuan's professional rival (in his own mind, at least).
Jackpot. Zhang Xuan's inner demon did a backflip. He slid into his chair like a king settling onto his throne, adopting a pose of profound, soul-crushing boredom. He was going to play the aloof master. It worked in every webnovel he'd ever read.
"You seek to learn from Lu Xun?" he asked, his voice dripping with a condescension so thick you could spread it on toast.
The girl nodded eagerly, her eyes sparkling with fan-girl devotion. "I heard he's the best teacher in the academy! All his students are amazing! It would be such an honor!"
"Tch. Typical." Zhang Xuan waved a dismissive hand, like he was swatting away a particularly stupid fly. "Rumors are for sheep. A teacher is like a pair of boots. Doesn't matter how shiny they are if they give you blisters. That pretty boy's techniques might be flashy, but if they don't sync with your cultivation, you'll be lucky if your strength just plateaus. More likely, you'll fuck it up so bad you'll be weaker than a wet noodle."
The girl blinked, thrown off script. "Oh... my... my elder brother said something like that once."
"Your brother is clearly a man of wisdom and discernment," Zhang Xuan said gravely, mentally high-fiving the unknown bro. "But I suppose you don't know what does suit you, do you? Poor, lost little lamb."
He sighed, a sound full of the weight of the world, as if Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels themselves were whispering sage advice into his ear. "Ah, whatever. Fate is a funny thing. I'm a teacher here too. I'm feeling generous. I'll assess your bones, your talent, your destiny. See what you're actually made of. Maybe then I can point you to someone... adequate."
"Really? Thank you, sir!" The girl beamed, completely hooked.
"Demonstrate your cultivation. Don't hold back. I haven't got all day."
"Yes, sir!"
Huuuuuuuuu!
The air in the room whistled as she launched into a basic fist technique. Spiritual energy coiled around her, solid and controlled. The kid had decent foundations, he had to admit. Not bad at all.
"Alright, stop." He held up a hand, cutting her off mid-form. "I've seen enough. Your foundations are solid. You train hard. Not totally talentless. You could be something... maybe." He nodded sagely, using the classic fortune-teller gambit—vague, universally applicable praise. "Especially the strength in your legs. Like a coiling dragon. Powerful, like raging floodwaters. With the right training, you could—"
"Teacher," the girl interrupted, her face suddenly clouding with confusion. "My leg... it's injured. The healers said... it's practically crippled."
...Shit.
Zhang Xuan's brain stuttered for a nanosecond, but his face, the magnificent bastard, didn't even twitch. A lesser man would have faltered. He just bullshitted harder.
"Injured?" He scoffed, as if she'd just stated the most obvious fact in the world. "Of course I knew that. Do you take me for an amateur? I was getting to that. That injury... it's not a weakness. It's a fucking opportunity!"
"It... it is?" Hope flickered in her eyes. This was exactly what she needed to hear.
"Through destruction comes rebirth!" he intoned, pouring on the mystical bullshit. "That shattered meridian? A blessing in disguise! Master it, and your legwork will become your ultimate weapon. Others will look at you with pure, unadulterated envy." He was making this up as he went along, and by the heavens, it was glorious.
"Really? An opportunity to be the best?" Her cheeks flushed with excitement. She was buying it! She was actually buying the whole damn truckload!
"Indeed. You have the potential to top the freshman class. A once-in-a-generation genius, hidden in plain sight. But..." He let the word hang in the air, heavy with implication.
"But what?" she asked, breathless.
"But..." Zhang Xuan sighed, a man burdened by cosmic truths. "The teachers who can even see this opportunity? In this entire academy, there are only three. The other two? Stopped accepting students three years ago. Recluses. Can't help you. It's a tragedy, really. A diamond, left in the rough..."
His voice trailed off, dripping with false melancholy.
The girl's face fell. Then, a spark of realization. "They... they won't take students. But you... you're a teacher too. Sir, do you... do you accept disciples?"
AND THERE IT IS! THE FINAL HOOK!
"Me?" Zhang Xuan looked startled, as if the thought had never occurred to him. "Well, yes, theoretically. But I am a man of simple tastes. I cherish my peace and quiet. I don't just take anyone. The student must be a perfect jade, worthy of my time..." He looked her up and down, feigning deep contemplation.
Thump.
She dropped to her knees so fast it sounded like a sack of potatoes hitting the floor. "Please, Master! Accept me! I'll work hard! I won't disgrace you!"
Joy, pure and unbridled, exploded in Zhang Xuan's chest. FUCK YES! He kept his face a mask of reluctant grace. "We are fated, I suppose... though I do value my solitude..."
"I won't disturb you unless it's absolutely necessary!" she promised, her eyes shining with devotion.
"And my resources are limited. Other teachers have more pull. You'll be the underdog. People will laugh at you for having a teacher like me..." He laid it on thick, the classic reverse psychology.
"That's... that's okay..." she said, though she sounded a bit unsure now.
Nope, not letting her back out now. Zhang Xuan cut her off. "Cough cough! But your determination moves me! Very well! Your sincerity has won me over! I will reluctantly accept you! Now, your identity token. Let's make it official before I change my mind."
"So... so fast?" she stammered, bewildered by the sudden whiplash from reluctant master to eager bureaucrat.
Zhang Xuan didn't give her time to think. He snatched her token, pulled her hand over, and—shink!—a quick dab of a dagger he just happened to have on his desk, and a drop of her blood fell on his teacher's jade token.
Weng!
A light flashed. The contract was sealed.
"Ah..." The girl, Wang Ying, stared at her pricked finger, then at the rapidly-beaming Zhang Xuan, utterly dumbfounded. The aloof master was gone, replaced by a guy who looked like he'd just won the lottery.
"Welcome to the team, kid. Name's Zhang Xuan. You can call me Master Zhang," he said, his voice now full of casual swagger. "Now, go get your bedding and books. Find your dorm. Class is tomorrow. Don't be late." He shooed her away before she could process the monumental mistake she'd just made.
"Yes, Master..." Wang Ying mumbled, still in a daze, and shuffled out.
The moment she was gone, Zhang Xuan pumped his fist in the air. "FUCKING YES! IN YOUR FACE, DIRECTOR! THIS MASTER IS STAYING!"
The immense pressure on his chest vanished. The last lingering wisp of the original Zhang Xuan's regret—his fear of failure and expulsion—finally dissipated, leaving him in full, uncontested control of the body.
Boom!
Suddenly, the world turned upside down. A sound like ancient bells, deep and resonant, exploded in his skull, shaking him to his very core.
"The heaven and earth are callous, treating all beings like stray dogs..."
"The sun sets and the moon wanes, an imperfection appears in the heaven and earth..."
What the ever-loving fuck was that?!
Before he could even process it, a colossal fucking palace materialized in his mind. It was vast, infinite, filled with endless shelves that stretched into eternity. Every shelf was packed to the brim with books. And above the grand entrance, four characters glowed with the light of a thousand suns:
Library of Heaven's Path.
"Holy shit... the transmigrator's gift pack!" he whispered, awe and confusion warring within him. He tried to reach out, to grab a book, but his mental hand passed right through it.
"Are you kidding me?! A library?!" he yelled at the void in his head. "I was a fucking librarian in my last life! Is this some kind of cosmic joke? What am I supposed to do, throw encyclopedias at my enemies? Critique their footwork with MLA citations? This is bullshit!"
He was expecting a badass system or a wise old ghost. Instead, he got a goddamn metaphysical library he couldn't even touch.
Zhang Xuan sighed, running a hand through his hair. One problem at a time. He had a student. He was safe. For now.
And as for this library... he'd figure out what the hell to do with it later. Right now, he needed to figure out how the hell he was actually going to teach that poor girl something without making her cultivation explode.
"Fuck," he muttered, a wide, reckless grin spreading across his face. "This is going to be interesting."
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