Chapter One: An Extraordinary Fire Poker

By the blazing stove, Ning Cheng was studying a pitch-black, glossy fire poker with intense concentration.

This was no ordinary fire poker. Over a meter in length, its surface held a metallic sheen when touched. Yet Ning Cheng could not discern its material. It was neither wood nor stone, nor copper or iron, much less any precious metal like gold or silver.

Even more peculiar, whenever Ning Cheng silently recited the word “Attributes” in his mind, a faint, grayish, translucent dialog box immediately appeared above the fire poker.

Lines of description were displayed on the box:

[Ferric Relic: Netherworld Sword (Incomplete Embryo)]
[Material: ???]
[Property One: Immortality—Forged from the body of the Great Iron-Encircling Mountain of the Netherworld. As long as the mountain stands, nothing can damage it; thus, it is called Immortal.]
[Property Two: Self-Borne Heft—The Netherworld is earth, earth begets all things and bears all things. In the grasp of mortals, it seems weightless, yet in truth, the sword weighs thirty-six million five hundred thousand catties.]
[Skill One: Peril of Life and Death (Damaged)]
[Skill Two: Nether Domain (Damaged)]
[Skill Three: Soul Reap—Slaying any being of the Three Realms allows it to absorb their soul, sending it into reincarnation or annihilating it forever. Souls annihilated this way convert into soul force to empower the wielder.]
[Available Soul Force: 2]

Ning Cheng gave the fire poker a slight shake, gathering his thoughts. Instantly, the dialog box vanished from his vision. By now, he was no longer surprised by such things.

It had been three days since his transmigration into this world. Seizing the chance to make broth for his ailing little sister, Ning Cheng had slaughtered both of the family’s hens, earning a total of two soul force points.

He still didn’t know what use soul force held, but he’d come to two clear realizations: First, transmigration did indeed come with benefits. This mysterious “fire poker” was his golden finger, carrying the “Immortal” trait—an indestructible weapon, a formidable boon.

Second, there truly existed beings of the Three Realms in this world. This was not Earth, the world of technology he once knew, but instead a strange and wholly unfamiliar realm. Going by the myths and legends of his past life, the Three Realms were likely the Celestial, the Mortal, and the Netherworld.

Given this division, it was entirely possible the realm was inhabited by immortals and mighty figures from ancient tales. Yet, at the start, all he had was a so-called “Netherworld Sword” shaped like a fire poker—and still only an incomplete embryo. In reality, Ning Cheng was no better than a frail scholar unable to truss a chicken.

In a world riddled with unknown dangers, the best way to survive was to avoid wandering about recklessly.

The stove beneath the hearth continued to burn warmly. Soon, the aroma of chicken soup began to waft from the pot.

“Mmm, how fragrant! It’s a pity that salt is somewhat scarce in this era,” Ning Cheng sighed inwardly. He carefully set the fire poker aside, lifted the lid, and ladled out a brimming bowl of savory broth.

Moments later, in a drafty little room, he placed the bowl before a raggedly dressed little girl.

“Hurry and drink the soup while it’s hot. This will help you recover faster.” Ning Cheng had long since realized that his sister, Ning Xin’s, illness was primarily due to chronic malnutrition and weakness. Thus, he did not hesitate to slaughter their only two laying hens.

For three days straight, he’d boiled soup for her, giving her the most nourishing drumsticks and breast meat.

“Brother, you’ve killed our egg-laying hens—what will we do in the future? We might not have enough grain to pay the rent this year,” she said worriedly.

“Grain rent? When is it due?” Ning Cheng was suddenly reminded that, in this world reminiscent of ancient times, their family were tenant farmers.

This was a troublesome situation. He had been so focused on helping his sister recover that he’d forgotten about the rent entirely.

“There’s less than ten days left. Steward Xue’s household will send someone to collect. If we can’t pay on time, we won’t be able to renew the lease on their land this year,” his sister said anxiously.

Having just transmigrated, Ning Cheng was not yet accustomed to life in this bygone age. Especially as the eldest son in a poor tenant farming family orphaned at a young age, he found himself woefully unprepared.

In his past life, Ning Cheng had been born into a typical intellectual family in China, on Earth, and had never worried about making a living. Thus, in these three days since transmigrating, faced with his frail, bedridden sister, he had killed chickens for broth and porridge without a second thought, saving her from the brink of death.

Now that she was recovering, the problem of rent loomed large.

To be honest, Ning Cheng had never farmed a day in his life; renewing the lease on the landlord’s land might not be of much use. Still, since he was now in this ancient world, having a bit of land was better than none.

With that in mind, Ning Cheng made his way to the edge of their rented fields. From atop the raised embankment, he looked out to see a boundless sea of golden wheat, heavy with grain—a truly heartening sight.

He hid the fire poker in the grass at the edge of the embankment, then took a sharpened sickle from his belt.

In his previous life, his family’s comfortable circumstances had never required him to work the land. He hadn’t expected his first attempt would be here, in this new world.

He swung the sickle with gusto, but to his frustration, not a single stalk was severed. Switching to a sawing motion, he gripped the base of the stalks with his left hand and used the sickle as a saw with his right. At last, he managed to cut through several stalks in one go.

He pressed on, cutting down a small patch and piling the wheat into a stack, but soon his back ached and he was forced to rest.

It was then that something miraculous occurred.

On the freshly cut pile of wheat, faint motes of light began to appear. As soon as these specks emerged, they were drawn by some unseen force, drifting toward the same place.

Startled, Ning Cheng thought at first that he was seeing ghostly will-o’-the-wisps. But then he realized the lights were gathering right where he’d hidden the fire poker.

“Could it be the sword embryo’s soul reaping skill at work?” Clever as ever, Ning Cheng immediately guessed the likely cause.

Excited and filled with anticipation, he carefully walked over, reached into the grass, and retrieved the sword embryo.

Sure enough, as soon as he picked it up, a gray translucent dialog box appeared in his vision again.

[Detected traces of living souls. The souls are incomplete and cannot be sent into reincarnation. Absorb and convert into soul force directly?]

Without hesitation, Ning Cheng replied in his mind: “Yes!”

Instantly, all the motes of light around the fire poker vanished.

Checking the attributes page of the Netherworld Sword’s embryo once more, the “Available Soul Force” had become “21.8.”

Harvesting just a small patch of wheat had yielded as much as slaughtering more than a dozen hens—a result that filled Ning Cheng with secret delight.