Chapter 1: Zhou Yan

Early summer, at dusk.

Tianzun City, in the old district.

Nestled at the corner of a bustling old street stood a wide, timeworn house. Above its somewhat dilapidated entrance hung a rectangular signboard bearing four elegantly written characters:

"Southlight Sword Hall"

Unlike the lively crowds that swept past the old streets outside, the area in front of the sword hall was empty and quiet.

A young man, pushing a battered bicycle with one hand, walked slowly up to the entrance. He wore a simple short-sleeved shirt, his hair and eyes both black, with a stature and appearance that were quite proper. Yet, a black eye patch covered his right eye, lending an odd disharmony to his otherwise pleasing features. His left arm hung at his side, ending in a stump at the wrist, simply wrapped with a cloth.

He rolled his bicycle into the courtyard, parking it with some effort, and unfastened the straps securing a square box to the rear seat with his single hand. Turning around, he saw a bright, lovely girl standing with her hands behind her back, smiling radiantly at him.

"Zhou Yan, you're back."

The girl was fair and delicate, with a touch of baby fat on her cheeks. Her soft hair was pulled back and parted into two cute little braids at the nape of her neck. She was not tall, dressed in a plain light-colored dress, her exposed legs gleaming white, exuding the freshness of youth.

Her name was Luo Ke, seventeen, soon to be a preparatory student at the prestigious Vermilion Bird University, majoring in the Department of Divine Mechanics—a field much like Mechanical Engineering on Earth. She was, nominally, one of the heads of the Southlight Sword Hall.

Of course, her role was more that of a mascot; the true master of the hall was her elder sister.

"Little Ke," Zhou Yan greeted her with a smile, handing her the delivery box. "Uncle Zhang saw I had a lot of orders today, so he sent some desserts for me to bring back."

The moment the word "dessert" left his lips, he saw the girl's eyes light up.

"Yippee!"

She snatched the box gleefully and dashed inside, calling out as she ran, "Sister! Zhou Yan brought desserts home—"

Just before entering, a sudden thought made her stop and turn back, flashing Zhou Yan another sweet smile.

"Thank you for your hard work today, Zhou Yan~"

With that, she hurried inside.

Zhou Yan shook his head with a helpless chuckle. Glancing down, he inadvertently caught sight of his left arm, missing its hand. He sighed softly.

Who could have imagined that after crossing into a new world, he would go from an ordinary man to a cripple? If the other time-travelers knew, they’d surely laugh at him.

For Zhou Yan was indeed a traveler from another world, stranded here for over two weeks now. A run-of-the-mill office worker, he’d been swallowed by a bizarre, sudden "rift" on his way home from work one evening. He awoke to find himself sprawled in a dim alley of this unknown world.

Judging by his clothes and phone, it was still his own body, though something must have gone awry in transit; he was now younger, and missing his right eye and left hand.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The real problem was—he had no identity here; he was a ghost on the records.

In this new world, whose technology rivaled his own, lacking a legal identity made every step a struggle. Even odd jobs were hard to come by—so he’d had to make do with whatever informal work he could find.

For instance—running deliveries.

The old district around the Sword Hall was bustling, home to several renowned old shops frequented by locals and students. Orders poured in nonstop. Not wanting to lose profits to delivery platforms, the shop owners preferred hiring trusted runners for their regulars.

Zhou Yan, with his thick skin—and his “disability advantage”—managed to secure such a gig after a few days. The pay was meager and handed out daily, but it was enough for emergencies. At least he wasn’t freeloading at the Sword Hall.

*

Pushing aside his thoughts, Zhou Yan followed Luo Ke into the hall.

Though old and plain from the outside, the interior was clean and tidy, though simple. The floor was covered with a special rubber mat, and bright white lamps hung from the ceiling. One wall was lined with tall mirrors, several of which bore cracks from repeated impacts.

It was clear the Sword Hall’s finances were modest.

Now, in front of the mirrors, three people stood. Zhou Yan immediately spotted the most striking among them—a tall, beautiful young woman with a ponytail and an icy air.

Luo Xuan, nineteen, Luo Ke’s elder sister—a genius female swordswoman, and the true master of the Southlight Sword Hall.

At that moment, she was focused on two male students practicing their swordplay. Though she noticed Luo Ke’s boisterous entrance and Zhou Yan following, she only glanced briefly their way before turning back.

Luo Ke, seeing her sister’s composed demeanor, stuck out her tongue playfully at Zhou Yan, then pointed at the box as if to say, "Let’s eat first."

Zhou Yan smiled and gestured for her to go ahead; he still had things to do and shouldn’t eat yet.

Luo Ke made a face—her cheeks puffed in mock dismay—but it quickly vanished as she scurried behind the reception desk, happily opening the box. Her eyes brightened at the neatly packaged desserts inside.

"Hehe, there’s iced mung bean custard—I’ll have this one!"

Without a trace of formality, Luo Ke retrieved her favorite, scooping a spoonful into her round little mouth.

Zhou Yan leaned against the desk, quietly watching the girl devour her treat, cheeks puffed as she slurped the custard. Noticing him watching, she mumbled through her mouthful, "Zhou Yan, this mung bean custard is really good!"

He smiled, finding her quite amusing.

*

A moment later, Luo Ke put down the empty bowl and let out a satisfied little burp.

Zhou Yan nodded toward Luo Xuan, who stood nearby, her face stern.

"Little Ke, what’s with your sister? She seems even colder than usual today."

Luo Ke glanced over, then lowered her voice, "I heard someone important from the central Sword Hall is coming to Yicheng for an inspection. My sister’s troubled over which of our elite students to send for the exchange."

She sighed, muttering, "Our so-called elite students are pretty mediocre… Even if we send them, they’ll just get crushed by the other halls. It’d be so embarrassing."

Zhou Yan nodded in understanding. After two weeks here, he’d managed to learn a few things.

"But isn’t Luo Xuan herself very skilled? Why not just have her participate?"

Luo Ke stared at him, then replied, exasperated, "She’s the hall master. She can’t compete against the students… Besides, as a master, she’s at a disadvantage—other hall masters are at least ‘Adept’ level… If only our father were still here, things wouldn’t be so difficult…"

Her face fell visibly.

Zhou Yan said nothing. He didn’t know the full story, only that the sisters’ father, the former master and an "Adept," had passed away, leaving the Sword Hall to his daughters. Judging by the hall’s straitened finances, Luo Xuan must be under immense pressure now.

Even if Zhou Yan wished to help, what could he do in his current state?

Meanwhile, Luo Xuan seemed to sense their conversation and glanced over, her sharp gaze wordlessly exerting pressure.

Luo Ke shrank back, sticking her tongue out at Zhou Yan, who only shrugged and said nothing more. Instead, he walked to a corner of the practice hall and took a wooden training sword from the rack, beginning to practice with careful, measured movements.

Luo Ke, bored, rested her chin in her hands and watched him, her thoughts drifting: If only Zhou Yan could meet someone important from the Vermilion Bird Palace and earn their favor—maybe then, his eye and hand…

She shook her head forcefully. What nonsense! Zhou Yan was still just a beginner, not even through the basics—let alone able to outshine other elite students and earn a spot in the exchange.

Why was she having such wild ideas?

...

While the girl’s thoughts fluttered like a kite with a broken string, Zhou Yan was wholly absorbed in his practice—his movements precise, his body shifting with each stroke.

From time to time, he glanced ahead, where, in his vision alone, faint, simple words seemed to form in mist:

"Upon acquiring sufficient combat skill, you may unlock ‘Calamity Walk’."

Zhou Yan pursed his lips, hope flickering in his lone eye. What would this "Calamity Walk" be, once he reached the threshold of skill?

The answer was close—almost within reach.

But it could not be rushed.

All in good time.

***