"Sheng-jun, time for your medicine." A scrawny old man handed a bowl of herbal brew to the young man on the bed.
"Leave it on the table. I'll drink it later," the youth replied, his tone stiff and labored.
This young man was Wang Sheng, no local. A transmigrator. Heaven knows how he crossed over—body and all, no less.
His name? A whim of his old man, obsessed with Liaozhai back in the day.
Wang Sheng was sure of one thing: his original world had no magic. So, he'd ended up a junior college IT student. Graduated fine, but a diploma like that? No one cared. He'd finally landed a dishwashing gig, ready to grind.
Then, days into the job, a left turn on a random outing—and bam. Transported to this unfamiliar land.
Half a year in, his luck was a mixed bag.
Good luck? He'd transmigrated with his body intact and a golden finger—a fancy system, no less. He'd figured, with effort, he'd make it big. Even farming could yield something extraordinary.
He'd landed in a place resembling ancient Inazuma. Resources were decent, the higher-ups weren't tyrants, and the villagers were kind enough to help an outsider like him. Maybe his tall frame helped.
Bad luck? Oh, it was stunningly bad. He didn't know the local tongue. Even with his system's proficiency boost, it took a month to grasp Inazuma's common language.
That delay cost him. Had he slacked less, studied harder, he might've had a better shot at survival.
This world wasn't normal. The air, the food—everything—carried strange substances. They harmed the body. High doses? Even locals couldn't handle it.
Low doses, over a month, with no defenses, no resistance, and slow recovery? They'd ravaged him. He was terminally ill.
Symptoms started two months in, though signs showed half a month earlier. His chronically subpar health, blind confidence, and language barriers made him ignore the locals' warnings.
Two weeks ago, after odd jobs for the village earned him his first Mora stash, he was ready to go big. Then he collapsed.
Soon, he was at death's door. Only the village healer—that scrawny old man—kept him alive, suppressing the elemental erosion's symptoms enough for a semblance of normalcy.
But it didn't last. Over months, his body withered.
Wang Sheng tried fighting back. He spent most of his Mora on a so-called renowned healer, only to hear, "There's nothing I can do." In the end, the village folk were kinder.
He gave his remaining Mora to the healer, took an empty room in his house, and prepared for the end.
Maybe acceptance brought clarity. He stopped chasing grand dreams. Instead, he chatted with the village chief, suggesting ways to improve life: poultry and beast rearing, mushroom cultivation, management tweaks. Learning their math was still base-10, he taught basic arithmetic.
Part gratitude for the villagers' aid, part refusal to die a useless transmigrator, and part scraping Mora to extend his life. His leftover funds were meager.
The old healer was kind, but Wang Sheng hated burdening him. The man's family wasn't rich.
Struggling upright, his frail arms drew a bitter smile. What a mess. He shuffled to the room's lone chair.
The room held little: herbs stacked by the wall, a bed, a table, a chair.
Oh, and his dead phone. Once it ran dry, the villagers saw it as a weird mirror. He'd dropped it once, cracking the screen.
That stung. No power? Maybe he could've solved that in time. But a shattered screen? Where in this world would he find a replacement?
They were still using crude clay pottery. Porcelain tech wasn't unlocked yet.
"Cough, cough… bitter as hell." He downed the foul, strange-tasting brew, feeling its medicinal power spread. A wry smile crossed his face.
He was different from this world's people. Locals faced no drug resistance against elemental erosion remedies.
Him? A few months of medicine, and resistance kicked in. The drugs' effects dwindled.
With a thought, Wang Sheng opened his golden finger—a rigid system, its functions long figured out.
System Name: Ultimate Life-Crafting System
Nickname: Wang Sheng
Level: LV1
Health: 50/200
Stamina: 5/10
Status: Gravely Ill → Near Death (Overflowing Spirit/Healthy & Energetic, Sub-Healthy/Lethargic, Minor Injury/Illness, Severe Injury/Gravely Ill, Near Death, Terminal/Life-or-Death, Dead)
Theoretical Knowledge: Otherworldly Knowledge LV2 (53.1/100), Inazuma Herbalism LV2 (24.8/100), Inazuma Language LV2 (26.5/100), Culinary Theory LV6 (11.1/100), Mathematics LV3 (21.6/100), Fitness Theory LV4 (89.9/100), Wellness Theory LV4 (90.0/100), others omitted.
Practical Experience: Otherworldly Knowledge LV1 (80.2/100), Inazuma Herbalism LV2 (24.8/100), Inazuma Language LV2 (26.5/100), Culinary Arts LV1 (23.4/100), Applied Mathematics LV2 (20.2/100), Fitness LV1 (30.2/100), Wellness LV2 (99.9/100), others omitted.
Ability: Elemental Resistance LV1 (63.2/100)
Evaluation: A life as tragic as a tea table.
--------------------
Want to read ahead? Early chapters on: patreon.com/ShadowKage