In a small hut at the farthest, quietest corner of Cloud Village, a young man lay on a worn mat placed against the wall.
There was no pillow beneath his head, only the cold wooden floor beneath him. The thin walls barely held back the biting winter wind.
Sleeping in such harsh conditions should have been unbearable, yet the boy remained motionless and unguarded, as if he had long grown used to this miserable life.
To him, this uncomfortable environment had already become ordinary—something he barely noticed anymore.
But that fragile peace shattered in an instant.
Without warning, the young man's body jerked violently. What started as faint twitches rapidly turned into violent convulsions, his limbs thrashing against the cold floor like a dying fish.
Beads of sweat broke out across his forehead, soaking into his simple, threadbare clothes.
His face twisted in unbearable agony, features contorting into something almost unrecognisable—trapped in a nightmare so intense, it seemed to tear through the boundary between dream and reality.
A dull throbbing pain pulsed through his mind. Slowly, painfully, his consciousness clawed its way back from the darkness.
"What's happening...?"
"Why am I still alive?"
Memories flooded in—vivid and merciless.
He could clearly recall falling from the roller coaster: the sickening lurch of his stomach, the helpless scream ripped from his throat, the cold rush of air as the ground raced up to meet him.
"I should have died... There's no way I survived that fall..."
Yet here he was. Breathing. Feeling. Alive.
But... where was this place?
Bracing himself against the floor, he struggled to stand.
His limbs trembled like those of a newborn, weak and unsteady.
Once, twice—he stumbled before finally finding his balance, taking hesitant steps across the worn wooden planks.
Soon, he noticed something strange. His legs and arms were shorter than he remembered.
As he moved, something caught his attention—a reflection in the small mirror hanging on the wall.
Though covered in dust, it was still clear enough to reveal a shocking truth.
The face in the mirror wasn't his.
The bone structure was different. The features were unfamiliar.
His once short hair was now long and black, falling past his shoulders like a cheap wig.
It was a completely different body, yet somehow, his consciousness was trapped inside it.
"What is happening...?" he muttered, but the words barely left his mouth before a sharp pain stabbed into his skull.
It felt like molten lava pouring into his brain, setting every nerve on fire. His vision blurred, and his body swayed as unbearable pain wracked his mind.
He clutched his head with both hands, a raw cry tearing from his throat as he collapsed to his knees.
His remaining consciousness blurred, and his body convulsed uncontrollably against the hard floor.
Then, just as suddenly, the pain receded, leaving him gasping for breath—exhausted, drenched in sweat, but mercifully clear-headed.
Slowly, he pulled himself into a sitting position, the terrible truth dawning on him with frightening clarity.
He was Su Chen now.
Not the man he once was—a simple office worker with an ordinary life, whose greatest achievement had been landing a stable, boring job.
A man bored out of his mind, now completely transmigrated into a different body... and a completely different world.
And this world was something else.
It was a cultivation world—a realm where immortals soared through the skies and terrifying monsters lurked deep within ancient forests.
This should have been the dream, right?
The ultimate fantasy for any bored office worker staring out of a window, lost in daydreams.
And yet... he couldn't help but feel a strange mix of happiness and sadness well up inside him.
From the depths of his mind, memories he had never lived began to awaken — fragments from his true identity.
The sealed memories of his predecessor slowly unfurled like an ancient scroll.
Flashback
A newborn child lay swaddled in golden light, cradled carefully in the arms of a white-haired elder.
"This is... the Ancient Eucharist?" the elder muttered under his breath, his voice trembling slightly.
The surrounding clan members stood frozen, their eyes wide with disbelief.
"Yes," another elder confirmed with a sigh, as though the weight of the heavens themselves had crashed onto his shoulders.
"It is undoubtedly the Ancient Eucharist physique... Why must the heavens treat our Su family so cruelly?"
One would expect a celebration. A divine physique, unmatched in its prime, should have been a blessing from the heavens.
But instead, the entire hall was filled with sorrow and regret.
Because they knew the truth.
In the ancient eras, the Eucharist was indeed a supreme existence — standing proudly among the top five physiques, rivaling the Eternal Body, the Chaos Body, and other legendary constitutions.
However, the world had changed. The very laws of heaven and earth had shifted over the ages.
The environment that once nurtured the Eucharist had become hostile, barren.
And to make matters worse, ten invisible chains, born from the heavens themselves, had descended to suppress the growth of the Eucharist.
It was no longer a gift.
It was a shackle.
A curse.
The infant—Su Chen—blinked up at the weeping elders, his tiny hands grasping at the air, innocent and unknowing.
And so, his bloodline was sealed.
His existence hidden.
Sent away to a lower realm, destined to live a mortal life, forgotten by the clan that once wept for him.
Present
"Hehe... this is almost too perfect," Su Chen chuckled dryly to himself.
This was the classic protagonist template, wasn't it?
A waste yet powerful physique, forgotten by his family, abandoned to the lower realms...
Then, one day, regaining the memories of his predecessor, embarking on a journey to fight against fate, to break the chains suppressing his physique, and claw his way back into the heavens.
Of course, somewhere along the way, he'd probably rescue a beautiful fairy maiden destined to walk beside him.
But the path ahead wouldn't be paved with gold.
It would be lined with blood, humiliation, betrayal, and endless suffering.
Because that's just how it always went, in the novels he used to read.
"But... I have replaced him. Will I still be the protagonist? Or am I just a body thief, someone who won't even survive the first trial and will die without a grave?"
The more he thought about it, the more depressed he became.
"Shit. I'm not the protagonist... I'm the illegal immigrant of this world!"
Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.
He glanced up at the broken roof, staring at the grey winter sky overhead.
"Hey, whoever's responsible for this... can I get a restart?"
"Or at least a tutorial? Maybe a beginner's package? Anything?"
Silence.
Only the cold wind answered him, howling through the cracks like laughter.
He shivered, pulled his thin robe tighter around himself, and curled up on the floor again.
"Screw it," he muttered.
"If fate's gonna screw me over, at least let it buy me dinner first."