"This isn't how I imagined my first day in another world," Tu Heng thought gloomily, resting his head on his hand. He sat on a low wooden stool, sweat trickling down his back, a piece of cloth barely preserving his dignity.
The air was thick with steam, born from the moisture and the heat radiating from the stove in the corner. It was a fairly large wooden room. Everywhere, the sounds of splashing water, laughter, and loud conversations—both male and female—filled the space. Most of the people here were participants of today's selection, forcibly dragged in by Jie Min, a man deeply concerned about general hygiene.
"It looks like the equivalent of a European bathhouse… but did such a thing ever exist in East Asia? No, what East Asia or Europe—I'm in another world… but where exactly? What even is this place? There are cultivators… maybe I've landed in a novel, or just in another world similar to my old one, but with elements of magic? I can't tell… but the real question is, why am I here?"
Such thoughts made his whole body tense, and a strange pain twisted in his chest, as if hundreds of snakes had curled up inside him, stinging and writhing. "I want to go back…"
Splash.
"Stop daydreaming and wash already—you still stink," Jie Ming said with clear disgust, wrapped in a cloth himself, holding a half-full bowl of water in one hand and something resembling soap in the other. Behind him stood Zhuge, carrying two short stools.
"You…?" Tu Heng avoided meeting his eyes. According to the memories of the original Tu Heng, he wasn't very social, often avoiding conversation with his peers. "Jie Ming, were we ever that close?"
"So what? Am I not allowed to talk to you now?" Jie Ming said, sitting down on the stool prepared for him. "Besides, I wanted to praise you. You did well today. Thanks to your 'unconventional' thinking, all of our peers advanced to the third stage—much better than the neighboring villages."
"Ha! You were a real man today!" Zhuge laughed in his rough voice, wrapping Tu Heng in a crushing embrace. "No one I know would dare charge at a cultivator with a shovel — you're either fearless or a fool!"
"Definitely a fool, hahaha," Jie Ming joined in the laughter.
"You…" Tu Heng wheezed, gripping Zhuge's arm. It looked like he might turn blue at any moment.
"All right, let him go," Jie Ming said, waving his hand.
"Agh!"
He barely managed to catch himself with his hands before falling face-first. And as if fate were mocking him, the cloth covering his dignity slipped off and fell.
"Look, Jie Ming, you were wrong—he is a man! Hahaha!"
"Damn it…" Tu Heng grumbled inwardly, standing up and tying the cloth back around himself. He shot Zhuge and Jie Ming a look sharp enough to carve their faces into his memory.
"Okay, enough joking around," Jie Ming raised his hand. "Seriously now, Tu Heng—what you did today was reckless. If those hadn't been disciples from Luo He, but from any other sect, things might've ended very badly."
"The cultivators who arrived today…" Tu Heng sat down again, giving Zhuge a glare before turning to Jie Min. "How do you know about them?"
Jie Min cast him a contemptuous look. Lathering the soap and rubbing it into his hair, he took his time before answering.
"This morning the elder explained everything. To everyone except you," Zhuge said, sitting on the second stool and pressing his hands to his chest.
Tu Heng fidgeted, placing his hands on his knees, smiling awkwardly.
"Hehe… well…"
"Forty-seven years ago, a great calamity struck these lands, affecting countless people," Jie Ming began, finishing with his hair and moving on to lather his torso. "Famine, bandits, disease—those times were hell on earth."
"Until he arrived — the cultivator from Luo He."
"With mysterious power he grew new crops, wiped out the bandits, and brought medical knowledge that saved thousands. But most importantly…" He cast a reverent look around the bathhouse walls. "In every village he visited, he built bathhouses like this one, blessing us with the gift of cleanliness!"
As he spoke, Jie Ming seemed to shine with admiration.
"That's nice and all, but when's the main part?" Tu Heng asked impatiently, stamping his feet.
"At that time, my grandfather—the current village elder—had the honor of speaking with this great lord," Jie Ming continued, ignoring the outburst. "He begged to be taken along, to become his disciple, so the lord gave him a test. He failed it.
"But it wasn't for nothing—he learned something about the selection system in Luo He."
"And what is it?"
"It's very specific. As Lord Sun said today: hard work, perseverance, opportunity, luck, and talent. The trials in Luo He have no fixed rules—they differ from person to person and barely have any strict boundaries. Unlike other sects, which would never recruit from a small place like Windy Village. With their strict rules, they would've probably cut off your hands for your behavior."
Finishing, Jie Ming poured the remaining water over himself, rinsing off the lather and dirt, leaving Tu Heng in silence.
"Luo He, huh…"
He sighed—his heart raced, uncertainty fogging his vision. Lost in anxious thoughts, his eyes wandered toward the far side of the bathhouse—the women's section. His face twisted into a foolish expression…
Jie Ming grimaced. "He really can't hide his emotions."
"Enough from him," Jie Ming waved and headed toward the exit to collect his clothes. "Zhuge, bring him along—they're waiting."
"Hey-hey, wait! I'll walk myself, I'll walk myself!" Tu Heng shouted, flailing as Zhuge's large hand grabbed his ear and dragged him.
"Hurry up!"
"I'm coming!" Zhuge sped up, tightening his grip.
"Aaaaah, wait!!"
*
*
*
"It's getting cold…" Tu Heng hugged himself, glancing at the darkening sky. From the memories he had, it should be mid-summer—but in this region, the cold arrived much earlier.
"Hey! Don't dawdle—come here!" a shout called out nearby, mixed with noise.
Tu Heng turned—and froze.
Just a few steps away, villagers bustled about, arranging clay pots, plates, and bowls. The air was thick with the aroma of fresh rice, broth, fried and stewed vegetables.
"This is…"
"They're setting the tables," Zhuge said, handing him a stack of fist-sized cups. "Here, help carry these."
"Oh… sure."
He moved almost mechanically: setting bowls, then delivering salad to the fifth table, then boiled eggs to the children, then bundles of firewood. Amidst the noise and rush, he felt himself dissolve—acting like a machine with no self.
By the time he realized it, he was already seated beside Jie Min and Zhuge, holding a bowl of rice and gripping a piece of meat between his chopsticks. Around them, the whole population of Windy Village had gathered at the tables.
The village elder stepped into the center, holding a glass of fruit wine—a rare delicacy opened only for special days.
"For the first time in our village's history, our youth have been given a chance to join a cultivator sect," he began solemnly. "This is a great day! A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. And now, I wish to speak to you—the future of our village."
People clapped; some whistled; others thumped the tables.
"I will not tire you with a long speech," the elder continued. "Take this old man's advice." He closed his eyes. "Life is full of trials, hardships, and change. Not everyone is destined for greatness—and if you cannot reach it, do not try to leap beyond your limits." He paused. "Even if you fail to join the sect—do not despair. Life does not end there. You can find happiness and meaning without it, as I did."
"Yeah, sure," Tu Heng rolled his eyes, chewing salad made of unfamiliar herbs.
"And those who do succeed…" the elder went on, "I ask only one thing: take care of yourselves. Remember what you have been taught, and be honorable. This toast is to all of you—from young to old. Good luck. Live with dignity, children of Windy!"
He emptied his glass in one gulp.
"Great speech, elder!"
"Don't worry about us, old man!"
"I'll definitely become a cultivator!"
"Your blessing won't go to waste!" Zhuge shouted, jumping up with his bowl.
"To you and the village!" Jie Ming added.
Laughter, shouts, clinking cups, children's squeals—everything blended into a lively stream. People ate, drank, hugged, reminisced, told stories.
Tu Heng sat silently, looking around, lost. Alone. He set down his bowl and chopsticks—despite the aroma and fatigue, he felt no appetite.
"Something wrong, Tu Heng?" Jie Ming asked, noticing his pale face. "Want to say something?"
"I…"
He looked at the crowd. For a moment, it seemed everyone had fallen silent and was staring at him: children, adults, elders. As if whispering, judging. His heart pounded so violently it felt like it would burst out of his chest. His legs trembled.
But the moment he blinked—everything returned to normal. People laughed, ate, talked.
"If I do nothing… I'll lose even this chance…"
He stood, lifted his bowl, and tapped it with a spoon. The chatter died down.
"Um… hello, everyone! I'm… Tu Heng. You probably know me. I'm… the one who…" He sought support in Jie Min's eyes. "The one who proved himself during the cultivator trial…"
"Hey, hero! Why're you whispering?!" a bearded man shouted. "Is that worthy of someone who threw shit at a cultivator?!"
"Young man, don't give up!"
"Big-head, go on!"
"Master Shovel, we're listening!"
The crowd jeered and laughed, shouting absurd nicknames. Tu Heng faltered.
"I can't…"
Jie Ming coughed lightly and patted his back.
Tu Heng turned.
Zhuge raised his fist and grinned broadly.
And Tu Heng chose.
"Listen, everyone!" he shouted. "We live in a vast, unknown world. In a remote land, almost at the edge of everything.
"Does that satisfy you? It doesn't satisfy me!"
All eyes fixed on him.
"I have a dream—a goal!" he said breathlessly. "And I know how to reach it—I will become a cultivator!
"A great and mighty one—so much so that I will be written into the history of this world!" He swept his hand through the air. "And then the whole world will be filled with awestruck stories and legendary tales about me, Tu Heng, and Windy Village, where I come from!"
The crowd erupted.
"That's our Tu Heng!"
"We believe in you!"
"What a dream!"
He smiled—wide, painfully wide. His chest rose and fell rapidly. People… they applauded him. They cheered for him—his peers, women, elders, children. Even Zheng Te smiled faintly as he clapped.
His heart swelled with a new, sweet, intoxicating feeling. For that feeling, he was ready to fight.
"Hey! Someone pour Tu Heng some wine!" a voice shouted from somewhere.
Tu Heng lifted his head, looking at the sky, where stars shimmered faintly.
New world… wait for me.