Chapter 1

Wen Xu was certainly not blind; on the contrary, his eyesight was remarkably sharp and unaffected by the nearsightedness common among scholars from excessive reading. Yet there were times when being sighted seemed more of a hindrance than blindness.

At least a blind person could openly claim ignorance of anyone’s identity, but he could not—despite having perfectly normal vision, Wen Xu simply couldn’t remember people’s faces.

If he had been born to nobility or high office, he wouldn’t have needed to concern himself with others’ expressions. But fate decreed otherwise; without the good fortune of being adopted by the old scholar, he might still be that abandoned child, forever at risk of freezing to death on the streets.

Indeed, Wen Xu once lived as an unnamed beggar boy.

To be honest, life for beggars, especially young ones, is exceedingly difficult. Consequently, beggars rarely change their clothes or wash their faces thoroughly. As such, young Wen Xu could effortlessly recognize each of his companions.

Had he resigned himself to this existence, his inability to recall faces would have posed no significant issue. However, he refused to remain just another street urchin. When he heard about the elderly scholar seeking to adopt a bright foster son, Wen Xu devised numerous plans to engineer chance encounters and showcase his talents. Fortunately, it appeared he truly possessed exceptional abilities, and the old scholar soon took him in, naming him Wen Xu. With this adoption, he transformed from a mere beggar into the son of a respected scholar.

However, he soon discovered why the old scholar had adopted him. Firstly, as Liu Xiucai was unmarried and childless, he needed someone to perform his funeral rites. Secondly, it stemmed from the old scholar’s obsession with passing the imperial examination.

In other words, having lost hope himself, the old scholar placed all his aspirations on his adopted son.

But Wen Xu didn’t find studying burdensome; rather, he genuinely enjoyed it. Whatever he read stuck firmly in his memory, remaining vividly intact no matter how much time passed. Interacting with people, however, was different—he still couldn’t remember anyone’s faces.

Wen Xu, being astute, went to great lengths to conceal this flaw, achieving remarkable success. Even his young study attendant merely thought their master worked too diligently at his studies, sometimes struggling to recall individuals.

As for the old scholar, his sole concern lay with Wen Xu’s academic progress. Moreover, such a condition—being unable to recognize faces—was unheard of, so naturally, he never suspected anything amiss.

Thus, Wen Xu settled into a stable routine. Step by step, according to the old scholar’s expectations, he progressed from a mere beginner to a xiucai, and at eighteen, earned the title of juren candidate. He became the youngest juren lord in Bizhou County.

The Wen family’s dilapidated threshold nearly crumbled under the weight of gifts from wealthy merchants and influential businessmen. Liu Xiucai was so ecstatic he could barely string words together, exclaiming that heaven had eyes after all and vowing to pray to their ancestors. In contrast, Wen Xu himself remained remarkably composed.

Seeing his tranquil demeanor, others praised him for possessing extraordinary composure and predicted great accomplishments in his future. This delighted Liu Xiucai even more; despite being seriously ill, he managed to get back on his feet again.

However, once the excitement subsided, Liu Xiucai’s health took a turn for the worse, rapidly deteriorating until it reached its final stages.

Wen Xu still vividly recalled his adoptive father’s appearance before death. To be honest, few elderly people look particularly good at life’s end, but fortunately, Wen Xu couldn’t discern facial features clearly. What he does remember is his adoptive father emaciated like a bundle of dry twigs, his brown skin tightly clinging to bones housing a frail, aged soul.

Initially, Wen Xu believed there wouldn’t be much warmth between them as father and son. However, unexpectedly, just before passing away, his adoptive father told him that if he didn’t wish to continue pursuing the imperial examinations, he should stop. The old man admitted his past obsession led to undue strictness, and upon his death, Wen Xu was free to choose his own path in life without regard for others’ expectations.

It’s said that on their deathbed, people speak only kindly. Wen Xu had heard this phrase, but as he gazed upon his deceased adoptive father, all he felt was a vast emptiness within him—nothing else stirred.

In truth, he longed to tell his foster parent that he didn’t despise studying or strict discipline; it was just…perhaps he really was some kind of freak, which is why his biological parents abandoned him at birth.

Honoring his adoptive father’s wishes, Wen Xu laid him to rest and built a humble hut near the grave for three years of mourning.

During these years, he isolated himself from others, even sending away his young study attendant. Each day, he immersed himself in books, taking breaks by strolling through the mountains, and even cultivated a small vegetable patch. If not for the county magistrate sending someone to inquire about his participation in the upcoming imperial examinations, he might have forgotten he was still a candidate.

Standing before the old scholar’s tomb, Wen Xu pondered deeply and ultimately decided it was time to venture out and see the world.

Having devoted so many years to his studies and striving relentlessly, even if he couldn’t secure a place on the prestigious list of honorees, he deserved to explore the vast expanse beyond his hometown. Wen Xu felt it was now the right moment to leave Bizhou County behind.

After all, he was no longer the helpless street urchin who could be easily bullied.

Wen Xu believed he was fully prepared for this endeavor. In truth, due to his vision impairment, he had always favored careful planning before taking action. Just as he couldn’t clearly discern people’s faces and relied on observing their clothing style, gait, voice, speech patterns, and other habits instead, though it was tedious, this approach had been second nature to him all along.

Three years had passed; perhaps he’d grown somewhat rusty, but…not this rusty surely.

Wen Xu could confidently assert that he had never met any of these three individuals standing before him. Yet, despite being complete strangers, they had relentlessly pursued him for seven days and nights since his arrival in the capital.

Moments ago, Wen Xu suffered a slash across his chest, and his arm now hung at an unnatural angle. His blood splattered onto the dust, swiftly disappearing without a trace. He knew there was no escape left for him.

The rapid loss of blood made his vision swim—each of the three figures before him seemed to blur into nine. He shook his head vigorously, but with little effect. Leaning against a large rock near the cliff edge, hand pressed to his shoulder, Wen Xu watched helplessly as the trio approached.

“Run! Why aren’t you running anymore?”

Wen Xu thought to himself, I’d love to run, but I truly can’t move any further. Aloud, he said, “At least let me die with some understanding.”

“Young man, blame your misfortune on being born with that face. Next time, remember to choose a better rebirth,” one of them sneered.

Clearly aware that delay could invite disaster, they also knew this slippery scholar was far more cunning than he looked. Despite his rudimentary martial skills, he had managed to evade capture for seven whole days. If word got out, their only option would be retiring back home to till the fields.

The steel blade raised high, its glint sharp and menacing. Wen Xu saw a flash before his eyes, and suddenly, the old scholar’s dying words echoed in his ears. What exactly had been the purpose of his life? To read countless books and win the old scholar’s favor, only to learn it might not have mattered after all? Or to finally master so much knowledge, only to find himself inexplicably pursued upon reaching the capital? Perhaps instead, he should never have struggled at all and remained a well-behaved beggar?

No—

Feeling the impending gust of wind, Wen Xu stood on the precipice between life and death, his will to survive flaring up infinitely. He decided, just once more, to place his final bet.

He would rather plummet to his death than die at their hands.

Just then, a sudden gust of wind swirled up from within the valley below. Wen Xu had forgotten all about his injuries; he sprinted desperately toward the cliff edge as the steel blade pressed against his back. He could almost envision the tip piercing through his flesh—when, in the next instant—

The wind swept him up and flung him into the abyss.

Apart from the splatters of blood on the ground, not a trace remained of his existence.

“Boss, what now?”

“We go down and search. Alive or dead, we need proof. If we fail this task, it’ll be our heads!”

“But—but Boss, that’s Dead Man’s Forest down there! The infamous one-way forest where no one ever walks out alive!”

At these words, Old First’s face paled instantly, but he swiftly schooled his expression into cold indifference. “All the better if it’s Dead Man’s Forest. We’ll wait outside for three days—if he doesn’t emerge by then, chances are he perished inside.”

Besides, with those wounds, the boy wouldn’t survive the night without medical attention.

For some inexplicable reason, Old First felt his heart lurch. He had a nagging suspicion that things weren’t as simple as they seemed; this scholar was truly uncannily strange.

In Xinlu 485, it was once again time for the cultivation world’s six-yearly recruitment event. Bian Chunzhou arrived early at Yonglu Mountain to register. As one of the Five Great Sects, Yonglu Mountain lay deep within the Yonglu range and admitted the fewest number of new disciples among them.

Bian Chunzhou wasn’t overly ambitious; becoming an Outer Disciple would make this journey worthwhile.

“Hold onto your token carefully. Gather at the formation center in three days for the initial trial. Latecomers will not be accommodated.”

Taking diligent care of his token, Bian Chunzhou showed up promptly at the formation center on the appointed day. When he arrived just before dawn, a long queue had already formed despite the early hour. Most were like him—possessing some foundation in cultivating qi but not yet fully initiated into the path. Naturally, there were also descendants from cultivation clans, equipped with storage pouches and magical artifacts at hand.

Envy flared in Bian Chunzhou’s eyes, but he quietly suppressed it, blinking away the redness.

Ah, when could he finally enjoy such luxuries? Being a lone cultivator truly seemed hopeless. Just think: He used to be a vulnerable college student from a prestigious “Project 985” university, barely halfway through his studies and far from reaching life’s pinnacle, when suddenly—he’d found himself transmigrating into the cultivation realm.

He lacked both extraordinary talent or lineage and any remarkable transmigration backstory filled with profound suffering. All he had was a humble thatched hut, a handful of spirit stones, and an early-demise solo-cultivator father. After painstakingly gathering information about Hengze Continent, he ultimately chose Yonglu Mountain.

So please, oh please—this time, I absolutely must pass! Even if I don’t know everything, let me guess correctly somehow!

With this optimistic mindset, Bian Chunzhou handed over his token and arrived at the preliminary exam staging area. Only after entering did he learn that Yonglu Mountain’s initial test involved transporting candidates into a dense forest secret realm. The more spirit plants one brought out, especially those of higher quality, the greater their chances of passing.

In other words, they were essentially unpaid herb gatherers, eagerly and willingly rushing to do so.

Bian Chunzhou sighed inwardly.

While waiting for teleportation, Bian Chunzhou once again checked his belongings. He carried a low-grade sword inherited from his late father, along with potions in his pouch purchased using all his savings—basic Blood Recovery Pills and Qi Supplement Pills. Although of the lowest tier, even these would suffice for his needs.

Feeling somewhat anxious, Bian Chunzhou couldn’t help but recall the nerves before sitting for his college entrance exams. However, as soon as the teleportation array safely deposited him on the ground, any lingering thoughts vanished…

Because right upon landing, someone crashed directly onto him. Goodness, if not for being in the Qi Refinement stage, he might have met his second untimely demise then and there.

“Hey—you’ve got no manners! What’s wrong with you, dropping on people like that?! Say something!”