After sitting there in silence for a while, Raine—Han Yun now, apparently—let out a quiet breath and slowly pushed himself to his feet. The strange new body still felt stiff and unfamiliar, like it hadn't moved properly in days. Maybe weeks.
His legs wobbled a bit as he stood. He steadied himself, glancing around the space he'd woken up in.
It wasn't much.
Actually, it was barely anything.
A small, worn-down hut made of rotting wood and weak support beams, with gaps in the walls wide enough to let the wind slip through. The ceiling above was riddled with holes, doing a horrible job of keeping out the rain. The floor was just packed dirt, damp in some spots and uneven in others. There was no furniture, no bed, no blanket—just a cracked bowl of water set near the corner, and a dented metal cup lying next to it.
"…So this is home, huh?" he murmured, his voice flat.
He took a slow step toward the bowl, staring into the water. His reflection greeted him. Gaunt cheeks, dry lips, hollow eyes. He looked like he hadn't eaten in days, maybe longer. The ragged robes hanging off his body were thin, torn in places, and didn't do much to hide how thin he'd gotten. He looked… fragile. And tired.
No, not just tired. Worn.
He reached down, picked up the cup, and turned it in his hand.
It felt cold. Light. Too familiar.
He didn't say anything.
There was no hidden treasure here. No secret scrolls. No "conveniently-placed" inheritance. Just this.
A broken hut. A bowl of water. A beggar's cup.
He let out a soft exhale, steadying himself.
"Alright," he muttered to himself. "Guess this is where we start."
Somewhere out there, the chosen ones were already running across mountaintops and slicing mountains with their swords. Meanwhile, Han Yun was figuring out how not to starve.
Not ideal. But for now, it would have to do.
Han Yun stepped out of the creaky hut, the warped wooden door groaning behind him as it swung open.
The moment he did, a gust of fresh air swept across his face.
He paused.
It wasn't just fresh—it was clean. Crisp. Almost too pure. Unlike the air back on Earth, this didn't carry the smell of exhaust fumes, fried street food, or city dust. Instead, it had a light scent of grass, damp earth, and something else—something faint and tingling, like the air itself held power.
He closed his eyes for a second, letting the breeze wash over him.
"…So this is what Qi feels like," he murmured.
It was subtle, like a hum just beneath the surface of the world, but definitely there. Alive. Moving.
He stepped forward, his bare feet crunching lightly on the overgrown path as he took in the scene before him.
Off in the distance stood a city—tall walls, faintly visible towers, and colorful banners fluttering in the wind. Not far from it, a stretch of forest sprawled across the landscape, thick and vibrant. Birds chirped in the distance. The sky was clear.
It felt… peaceful. Which probably meant danger was hiding somewhere nearby. This was a cultivation world, after all.
Han Yun glanced back at the hut. "No way that's mine," he muttered. "Probably just broke in and passed out here."
He exhaled, then looked back out toward the city. "System," he said aloud, "where am I exactly?"
The panel popped up instantly, floating into view with its usual soft glow.
[Location: Southern Outskirts of Misty Spring City — Southern Great
Continent of Silent Cloud Star.]
Han Yun stared at it for a second, then nodded slowly.
"…Cool. No clue where that is. But sounds about right."
His eyes drifted back toward the distant city.
Guess it was time to figure out what kind of mess this world had waiting for him.
Han Yun squinted at the horizon, watching the distant city as he walked a few more steps down the path. The wind tugged at his ragged robes, and the faint hum of Qi in the air buzzed faintly in his veins.
"Alright, System," he said, rubbing his temple. "So just to make sure I've got this straight...."
He pointed at the glowing panel. "I only get quests or rewards if I find these so-called chosen ones and either mess with them or take them out, right?"
The panel didn't waste time.
[Correct. All missions are linked to encounters with protagonist-tier individuals. Sabotage, interception, or termination will yield rewards.]
Han Yun nodded slowly. "Thought so."
He paused, narrowing his eyes.
"...Then how the hell am I supposed to find one? You just said there are billions of people on this star alone."
The system responded again with cold, emotionless clarity.
[Encounters with Chosen Ones are extremely rare. Even within the current abnormal density, finding one is comparable to locating a single needle in an ocean.]
Han Yun stopped. "Seriously?"
The panel didn't even flicker.
He rolled his eyes. "Come on, don't try to make it sound impossible. I know how this works."
He crossed his arms, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.
"Every chosen one has a pattern. They all start in the same places: sect recruitments, big martial events, forest trials, sudden bandit attacks on nobles, or helping a dying old man in a cave who turns out to be the ancient founder of some lost clan. Hell, they might as well wear neon signs on their heads."
The panel stayed silent this time.
Han Yun didn't care.
"I've read enough of these damn novels to know where to look," he muttered, already planning where to head once he reached the city.
But what he didn't know—what the system didn't bother telling him—was that even with all his genre awareness, even with all the tropes and patterns memorized like gospel...
Finding a real chosen one in this world was still nothing short of divine luck.
And luck?
Was something Han Yun definitely didn't have.
Han Yun walked for what felt like hours, the dirt path eventually turning to cobblestone as he approached the city gates. Misty Spring City loomed ahead, its walls tall but weathered, the main gate guarded by armored men who looked like they hadn't smiled since birth.
He stepped forward, trying to act casual despite looking like a half-dead scarecrow.
"State your business," one of the guards barked, immediately eyeing him like a pest that wandered too close to their food.
Han Yun opened his mouth—and paused.
"…Wait." He blinked. "I understand that?"
The words had come naturally, effortlessly. Chinese. He could speak and understand it now without thinking. He didn't remember learning it, but it rolled off his tongue like he'd known it his whole life.
"Uh…" he cleared his throat. "I just wanted to—uh, look around."
The guard scoffed. "Get lost, beggar."
Just as Han Yun was about to be physically escorted back to dirtville, a voice called out from within the guard post.
"Hold on."
Another man stepped out. Older, with a thick beard and a relaxed posture. He glanced at Han Yun for a moment, then chuckled.
"I've seen this one before. Used to beg near the western gate, right?"
Han Yun blinked. "...Sure?"
The man nodded. "Let him in. What harm could he do?"
The guards looked unsure, but a command was a command. They stepped aside, and Han Yun was waved through the massive gates.
"…Huh. That worked and who said i don't have luck."
Inside, Misty Spring City buzzed with life. Stone roads stretched in every direction, lined with stalls, shops, and buildings with elegant curved roofs and red lanterns swaying from their corners. People walked in robes of varying quality—scholars, cultivators, merchants, servants. The air carried the scent of spices and incense.
Even if it wasn't divine or majestic, it was still something straight out of a Xianxia novel.
Han Yun's eyes wandered with quiet awe.
It really felt like he'd stepped into the world of the stories he used to read back home.
Of course, fantasy ended the moment he started dragging his half-dead body from place to place, looking for the telltale signs of chosen ones.
He wandered for hours, searching for the cliché spots.
He went to sect recruiting posts.
Got kicked out.
He went to a martial dojo with a name like Iron Vein Blade Pavilion.
Got kicked out again.
He even tried sneaking into a place called Jade Moon Peak Sect, which sounded prestigious enough for a future protagonist to train in.
The result? One of the disciples actually booted him in the stomach and sent him tumbling down the stairs like a loose cabbage.
"Why the hell would we let a stray dog walk into our sacred sect?" they shouted as he groaned on the ground outside.
Han Yun lay there for a moment, staring at the sky.
"…Yeah. This is going great."
As Han Yun lay on the cold stone steps outside Jade Moon Peak Sect, his back aching and his pride somewhere in a ditch, he groaned and threw an arm over his face to block out the afternoon sun.
"…System," he muttered, voice half-dead, "I have a serious question."
The panel blinked into existence above him like it had been waiting for the drama to settle.
[.....]
He stared at it for a moment, then let out a dry, bitter laugh.
"Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to reincarnate me into this body?" he asked, gesturing to his stick-thin arms and bloodied robes. "If the so-called Will of Balance wants me to work for it, couldn't they at least give me a decent starting point? Or hell, a slightly better situation?"
The system responded almost too quickly.
[This body was the most suitable vessel near death at the time of your transmigration. Adjustments were not permitted.]
Han Yun dragged his hand down his face.
"So you're telling me... I got isekai'd into a dying beggar's body because it was available? Like some open seat on a budget flight?"
[Correct.]
He stared blankly at the sky, rainclouds slowly starting to form in the distance like the heavens themselves were laughing at him.
"This is ridiculous…" he muttered. "No cheat. No talent. No backstory. No nothing. Just me, the walking definition of rock bottom. Yeah. Sure. Makes total sense."
The panel remained still, glowing faintly above him.
Han Yun sighed, sitting up with a wince and brushing dirt off his sleeve.
"…At least let me find one of those bastards soon," he muttered. "If I get kicked down one more staircase, I'm gonna start thinking this world wants me dead again."
For the next two days, Han Yun did what fate had seemingly assigned him to do best...Yes, being a beggar.
Not by choice, of course. He tried to do things differently at first. He looked for odd jobs, tried helping merchants haul stuff, even offered to sweep the steps of a temple once. Every time, he got the same look—that
"you're wasting my time" glare followed by a snide remark or a shove.
Apparently, beggars weren't in high demand. Shocking.
Misty Spring City, for all its elegant structures and refined airs, was huge. Stupidly huge. He spent hours dragging his already half-dead body from street to street, weaving through markets, plazas, outer courtyards, and city sectors he couldn't even pronounce.
All that walking, and not a single chosen one in sight.
Not a single arrogant young master screaming about face.
Not a single ancient sect heir glowing with destiny.
Not a single heavenly jade beauty descending from a flying sword.
Nothing....
"Fuck, They really are rare," Han Yun mumbled on the second night, leaning against the outer wall of some tea house, his stomach grumbling like a wild beast.
With no options left and zero pride to protect, he finally caved and did what he was apparently born (or reincarnated) to do.
He begged.
Sat on the side of the road with his dented metal cup. Head lowered. Palms out. Just another invisible piece of the city's scenery.
Surprisingly, it worked. Not much, but enough. A kind-looking auntie tossed him a dried bun. A passing cultivator with a clean conscience flipped him a few low-grade spirit stones.
Small mercies.
He used the spirit stones to buy cheap, street-side food. It wasn't spiritual beast meat or heaven-grade rice, but it stopped his stomach from folding in on itself.
Each time he bit into something warm, he felt a strange mix of shame and gratitude.
This wasn't the life he imagined when he woke up in this world.
But for now, it was the life he had.
The third day of begging in Misty Spring City had started like the others painfully days, faintly humiliating, and with his stomach already grumbling before noon.
Han Yun sat cross-legged near the edge of a busy market street, blending in with a handful of other beggars. His chipped cup sat in front of him, mostly ignored by passing feet. He stared blankly at the stone path, letting the noise of the crowd wash over him like background static.
Until something different entered his line of sight.
A man—no, a walking cliché—strolled confidently into view. Dressed in sleek black robes lined with faint silver patterns, the stranger carried a massive greatsword slung across his back, the thing nearly taller than him. He walked up to a herbal stall, bargaining casually with the shopkeeper like it was any normal day.
Han Yun tilted his head, squinting.
The guy's long, black hair was tied into a loose, windswept ponytail that somehow still looked perfect. His features were sharp—knife-cut jawline, high cheekbones, smooth skin. His eyes were a striking shade of pale blue, calm but focused, carrying a weight that said I have trauma, but I also have plot armor.
"...No way," Han Yun muttered.
He stood, slowly creeping closer like he was stalking a rare beast. Just as he got a clear look at the guy's face, a familiar blue flicker suddenly appeared in the corner of his vision.
[TARGET IDENTIFIED: CHOSEN ONE DETECTED]
The system panel expanded instantly, flooding his vision with new information.
[Name: Ye Fan]
[Status: Chosen one]
[Background: Former Young Master of the Ye Clan from Azure Dragon Flame Empire]
[Bloodline: Hidden Ancestral Lineage – Azure Dragon Veins (Unlocked via Inheritance Item)]
Physique: Reformed Heavenly Vein Body
[History
Born with heaven-defying talent as the most promising genius of the Ye Clan. At age 9, his father, Ye Tianlong—the clan leader—mysteriously disappeared during a secret mission. In his absence, internal conflict erupted. Jealous uncles and corrupted elders plotted against Ye Fan, poisoning him and crippling his Qi, reducing him to a laughingstock.\n\nShamed and discarded, he was left to rot at the edge of the clan grounds.
Recently discovered a jade pendant left behind by his father, rumored to be a legacy of the Ye Ancestors. The pendant miraculously restored his crippled veins, unlocking his hidden bloodline and awakening the cultivation path once more.]
Current Goal: Secretly rebuilding strength, seeking revenge on those who betrayed him, and searching for clues about his father's disappearance.
Han Yun stared blankly at the screen.
"…Are you fucking serious."
He looked back at Ye Fan, who was now calmly examining a handful of dried ginseng like he didn't have enough tragic lore to write five books.
"This guy's practically dripping with protagonist energy..." Han Yun muttered. "Secret bloodline? Check. Poisoned by his own clan? Check. Missing OP dad? Double check. Jade pendant inheritance? Gah damn full bingo."
For the first time in this world, Han Yun's heart actually beat a little faster.
He had finally found one.
A real chosen one.
And now the real question was…
What the hell was he supposed to do with him?