The blue light from the computer screen was the only thing illuminating the small office cubicle. Han Feng leaned back. His chair let out a dry creak that seemed to echo in the silent room. It was late. It was always late.
He rubbed his eyes. They felt like they were full of sand. He looked at the digital clock in the corner of his monitor. It was 3:00 AM. This was his 250th hour of overtime this month.
He worked for a web novel translation and editing team. His job was to make sure the heroes of other worlds sounded cool. He spent his days fixing their dialogue and making their power systems make sense.
'Ironic,' he thought. 'I'm making these characters immortal while I'm killing myself to pay rent.'
His chest felt tight. It was a dull ache he had been ignoring for the last three hours. He reached for his lukewarm coffee. His hand shook. Suddenly, the dull ache turned into a sharp, stabbing pain. It felt like a hot iron was being pressed into his heart.
He tried to gasp for air. Nothing came. His vision began to swim. The lines of text on the screen blurred together until they looked like black ants crawling on a white wall. He tried to reach for his phone. His arm felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.
He collapsed forward. His forehead hit the keyboard with a soft thud. A long string of gibberish appeared on the document he was editing. Then, everything went black.
He didn't know how long he was in the dark. It felt like seconds. It felt like years.
When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was the air. It wasn't the recycled, stale air of the office. It was crisp. It smelled like pine needles and old parchment. He was lying on a hard wooden surface.
He sat up slowly. His head throbbed. He looked down at his hands. They were pale and slender. These were not the hands of a man who spent ten years typing in a cubicle. These were the hands of a teenager.
He looked around the room. It was simple. The walls were made of dark wood. There was a low table with several stacks of yellowed paper. A few brushes sat in a porcelain holder. This looked like a scene straight out of one of the historical novels he edited.
'No way!' he thought. 'Did I actually transmigrate?'
He stood up. His legs felt a bit shaky. He saw a bronze mirror standing in the corner of the room. He walked over to it, his heart hammering against his ribs.
The reflection that looked back at him was stunning. He had long, jet-black hair that reached down to his shoulders. His skin was smooth, almost like jade. But the most striking feature was his eyes. They were a bright, vibrant yellow. He was wearing high-quality white robes with blue embroidery at the sleeves.
"I look like a damn idol," he whispered.
His voice was clear and melodic. It wasn't his old, gravelly voice. He touched his face. The skin felt real. This wasn't a dream. He looked at the papers on the desk. They were covered in elegant calligraphy. The name on the top sheet was Li Yunxiao.
'Li Yunxiao. That's me now,' he realized.
He took a deep breath to calm himself. If this was a cultivation world, he was in danger. He knew the tropes. In these stories, if you were weak, you were as good as dead. Just as he was starting to panic, a golden light flashed in front of his eyes.
A semi-transparent screen appeared in the air.
[System Initializing...]
[Host Detected: Han Feng / Li Yunxiao] [Status Loading...]
Han Feng stared. He felt a weird mix of relief and excitement. 'Of course. Every transmigrator gets a cheat!'
[Status Window]
[Name: Li Yunxiao (Han Feng)]
[Level: 1 Cultivation Realm: Mortal Shedding - 1st Stage (Initial)]
[Qi: 5]
[Strength: 6]
[Agility: 7]
[Spirit: 15]
[Attribute Points: 0]
[Unique Skill: [Skill Copy - Level 1] (Slots: 0/3)]
The Mortal Shedding realm. He knew this. It was the lowest of the low. It was the process of cleaning the impurities out of the human body before one could actually hold Qi.
The stages usually went: Mortal Shedding, Qi Gathering, Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, and Nascent Soul. Each realm was split into nine stages, with a 'Peak' stage at the end of each. He was at the very beginning of the very first step.
"System," he said aloud. "How do I cultivate? How do I get stronger?"
A neutral, mechanical voice echoed in his head.
[Host can cultivate by following the Great Path of Nine Heavens. This involves breathing in the spiritual energy of the world to temper the muscles and bones. However, the Host has the Unique Skill: Copy. You may copy any technique you observe.]
"Copy anything?" he asked.
[Correct. Once copied, a skill can be upgraded using Attribute Points. There are no limits to how many times a skill can be evolved.]
Han Feng smiled. "That's more like it."
He decided he couldn't stay in the room all day. He needed to see where he was. He pushed open the heavy wooden door. Outside was a wide stone balcony. He was in a large house, or perhaps a dormitory, built onto the side of a mountain.
He could see other buildings in the distance. They all had slanted tiled roofs and ornate carvings. In the center of the complex was a large, flat courtyard. He walked down a set of stone stairs toward it.
As he got closer, he saw a group of disciples. They were all wearing the same white and blue robes. They were moving in sync. They were practicing a series of punches. Each strike made a whistling sound in the air.
'They're training,' he thought.
He stood at the edge of the courtyard. He watched their feet. He watched the way they twisted their hips to generate power.
[Target: Basic Stone-Crushing Fist detected. Do you wish to copy?]
'Yes,' he thought. 'Confirm.'
Immediately, a sharp pain shot through his brain. It felt like someone was pouring boiling water into his skull. He let out a choked gasp. His vision flickered. His knees buckled, and he hit the stone floor.
"Hey! Is that Junior Brother Li?" someone shouted.
Han Feng couldn't answer. The world spun. He fell into a deep, heavy sleep right there on the training grounds.
When he woke up, he was back in his room. It was evening now. The orange glow of the sunset filtered through the paper windows. He felt different. His muscles felt tight, and his mind felt full of new information. He knew exactly how to throw those punches now.
The system screen popped up.
[Skill Copied: Basic Stone-Crushing Fist]
[Upgrade available. Cost: 0 Attribute Points (First time bonus). Would you like to upgrade?]
"Yes," he whispered.
His entire body began to glow with a soft, white light. He felt a surge of warmth flowing through his veins. It was like a battery was being charged inside his chest.
[Upgrade Complete.]
[Basic Stone-Crushing Fist —> evolved into —> Tiger-Roar Shattering Palm.]
Han Feng stood up. He felt lighter. He felt stronger. He walked to the center of the room. He wanted to test it.
'How do I use it?'
[Think of the name or click the skill icon in your mind.]
He focused on the name. 'Tiger-Roar Shattering Palm.'
His body moved automatically. He stepped forward with his left foot. He pulled his right palm back and then thrust it forward.
BOOM!
A shockwave of air erupted from his hand. It sounded like a physical explosion. The stack of papers on his desk was sent flying. The brushes rattled in their holder. A faint, low growl, like a distant tiger, echoed in the room.
Han Feng stood there, his hand still extended. He was breathing heavily. His yellow eyes were wide with shock.
"Holy shit!" he said.
He had just copied a basic move and turned it into something that could probably break a wall. And he had only been here for a few hours.