The woman didn't bow down in awe, but her killing intent receded. "Developing the Sect is a tall order for a stranger. But you will make a fine accountant. Chan'er, arrange a carriage for him. Give him medicine."
Xue Mu was moved to a simpler carriage. He slumped against the wall, exhaling.
The girl, Chan'er, tossed him two porcelain bottles. "White for healing. Take one, sleep, and you'll be fine. Red is to suppress your poison so you don't kill us all. One pill every twenty-four hours."
Xue Mu swallowed the pills without hesitation. If they wanted him dead, he'd be dead. A cool sensation washed over him, and the pain receded instantly. Magic pills. Right. Physics is dead.
"I'm Xue Mu. And you, young lady?"
"Yue Xiaochan," she grinned. "You have guts. You saw my Master naked, yet you're still breathing."
"I saw nothing. It was dark, I was falling."
"You saw white skin. That counts."
"Can we be reasonable?"
"No." She propped her chin on her hands, studying him. "You look like a monk, but you have hair. You dress in... a bathrobe? What sect are you from?"
"I come from a place far away. I don't know this dynasty."
"This is the Great Zhou Dynasty. It has stood for a thousand years."
A thousand years? "Is it the Spring and Autumn period?" Xue Mu tested.
"Spring and Autumn? Like the seasons?"
"A time of... many schools of thought. Rival philosophies."
Yue Xiaochan stared at him. "If that is your definition... then yes. A Hundred Schools of Martial Dao, contending for a thousand years. This is indeed a Spring and Autumn."
Xue Mu leaned back. A world where philosophers were martial artists. Where ideology was enforced by the sword.
"You're weird," Yue Xiaochan decided, standing up. "But useful. You're an accountant now. Don't try to run. You're too weak."
She vanished. Literally. One moment she was there, the next, empty air.
Xue Mu lay back on the cushions. He was alive. He had a job. He was surrounded by beautiful, homicidal women in a world where he was physically inferior to a child.
He looked at his hand. The cut from the bronze shard was gone. In its place, on his palm, was a faint, cyan tattoo—a wave-like pattern, identical to the shard.
He clenched his fist. No power surged. No system interface popped up.
Great, he thought. I'm an accountant in a fantasy world, and my cheat code is a tattoo.
He looked out the window at the passing landscape. The air was crisp, the sky a piercing blue no modern city ever saw.
Well, Xue Mu smiled grimly. I built an empire from nothing before. I can do it again.
"Hey, Accountant!" Yue Xiaochan's voice drifted from outside. She was running atop the grass, her feet barely touching the blades. "We're almost at the Capital."
"What's the Capital like?"
"Big. Rich. And full of people waiting to be ripped off."
Xue Mu laughed. Maybe he would fit in just fine.