Start with everyday skills and grind your way to immortality.

It was late at night, and the whispers in the main room had long since ceased.

The words "apprenticeship," "signing a life-or-death contract," and "money" were like nails driven into his heart.

In that nightmare, he swung his sword and slew the evil spirit within him.

How can someone who has seen the light bear to return to darkness and eke out a living?

Chen Qian murmured softly.

"I don't want to lose."

In this life, even if you only win once, just once is enough.

He dragged the old wooden box out from under the bed.

I opened the notebook my father left behind and found the tattered map of Montenegro.

So what if it doesn't have that mysterious control panel?

That knowledge, that experience, though no longer presented in the form of data.

But they are etched in his mind and ingrained in his very being.

He remembered the appearance of the beggar-ticks very clearly.

He could navigate the terrain of Black Mountain.

He knew his mother's weaknesses by heart.

"Roads are made by people walking on them."

"Huo Huo"

The sound of sharpening knives echoed in the deathly still night, monotonous, persistent, and repeated again and again.

This time, there was no notification of "Experience Points +1".

The blade grew brighter and brighter, reflecting in those eyes that, though somewhat tired, were exceptionally clear.

Stable?

To hell with stability.

That thing is for the dead.

As living beings, we must strive and fight.

When the time comes, you have to step up; there's no other choice.

That's life, that's how it should be.

Huddled in this dilapidated courtyard like a mouse, waiting for someone to give them alms, waiting for the day they'll be sold by weight?

He'd rather move forward.

Even if there is an abyss ahead that seems to have no bottom, even if this step will mean there is no turning back.

He will never turn back!

The next morning, a thin mist hung in the air.

Chen Qian changed into his patched, coarse cloth clothes and tucked his gleaming wood-chopping knife into his waistband.

He pushed open the door and stood in the courtyard, taking a deep breath of the chilly air.

Inside the main room, the elder brother and sister-in-law were still fast asleep, emitting soft snores.

He didn't go in, nor did he look back one last time.

If they can't come back... then it's better if they never see each other again.

He turned around and strode out of the courtyard gate.

He turned around, stepped over the worn-smooth threshold, and walked into the morning mist that filled the alley.

His back was thin, yet his posture was taut and straight.

Step by step, they headed towards Black Mountain in the west of the city.

Without those extraordinary skills to rely on, this trip might be like throwing a meat bun to a dog.

But he still went.

Just like in my dream, I bought two hard, crumbly steamed buns at the street corner and tucked them into my pocket.

After walking more than ten miles, blisters quickly formed on the soles of their feet again.

The wind in Montenegro was still so chilling, seeping into your bones.

The mountain road was rugged.

Gone are those moments of lightness and agility; every step feels heavy, treading on gravel and mud, one foot sinking deep and the other shallow.

His lungs felt like a broken bellows, wheezing and tearing painfully, but he didn't stop.

Every action, every choice, is like reenacting that script.

This time, however, there was no cold notification from the system, only the heavy pounding of his own heart.

Upon reaching the foot of the mountain, we went directly around to the shady slope on the north side.

The area is densely wooded and never sees sunlight.

Chen Qian lay on the damp soil, his fingers brushing aside the rotting fallen leaves, searching for that purplish-red vein in his memory.

"Ghost needle grass..."

Without the visual aid of [Herbal Identification], he could only rely on memorizing the characteristics to identify them.

Each plant must be picked up and examined closely, and the leaves must even be crushed to smell the sap.

His fingers were cut by thorns, and dirt mixed with blood seeped into his fingernails, but he was completely unaware.

Finally, he found the first plant under a moss-covered rock.

Purple stripes on the underside of the leaves; serrated leaf blade.

That's right!

Chen Qian was overjoyed and carefully dug it out.

One, two, three...

When the cloth bag was half full, the strong stench of corpses was barely suppressed by the cloying sweetness of cheap cosmetics.

coming!

The timing was clearly off, but it still came.

Chen Qian's muscles tensed instantly, and his hair stood on end.

In his dream, he hid and concealed himself until the monster revealed the back of its neck, at which point he scrambled away to escape.

But this time, the moment the smell entered his nose, he acted like a wild beast scalded by fire, without the slightest hesitation.

A machete? No thanks!

He gripped the cloth bag full of herbs tightly and ran with all his might!

"Snap!"

Behind me came the crisp sound of a dry branch snapping underfoot.

Immediately following was a sharp screech.

Chen Qian dared not turn around. His lungs burned, and his legs felt as heavy as if they were tied to a stone roller, but he still desperately took steps, pushed off the ground, and took another step.

One step too slow, and you're dead!

Ahead, the familiar collapsed slope appeared.

He did not slow down.

Instead, when on the verge of collapse, he gritted his teeth, used the momentum of his forward rush to leap forward!

The wind howled in our ears, and the world spun around us.

The body tumbled down the steep slope, crashing into tree roots and rocks.

Severe pain, dizziness, suffocation.

But he held tightly to the cloth bag in his arms.

"Bang!"

His back slammed heavily into a soft, damp, and cold swamp.

The world was plunged into darkness.

I don't know how much time passed, but then I felt a cold touch on my face.

He struggled to open his eyes, and fine rain was falling from the gray sky.

The light grew dimmer, and the forest was shrouded in mist.

It was just ten steps away.

It was under that same half-withered old locust tree.

Chen Qian hurriedly dug out the blood-patterned ginseng and moved towards the tree hole in his memory.

But, in that very instant...

"when."

A clear and melodious gong sounded without warning, echoing from the depths of the mist.

The world suddenly came to a standstill.

The wind stopped, and the raindrops hung in the air.

Even the leg he had taken a step with froze in place, unable to move.

A pale, eerie light pierced through the layers of tree shadows and the frozen rain, slowly casting its glow upon us.

Paper figurines with lanterns.

A paper figure dressed in a pale white shroud, with two glaring patches of red on its cheeks, floated silently, carrying a lantern.

"Li held a candle, and all around was silent."

The opera-like voice echoed through the deathly silent mountains and forests.

The paper figure floated close in the blink of an eye, its pale face almost touching Chen Qian's nose.

The eyes drawn with ink dots stared intently at Chen Qian.

Time seemed to freeze completely at that moment, along with the paper figures.

mountain top.

The highest point of Montenegro, a place that should have been shrouded in thick fog and darkness.

At that moment, a faint light appeared.

The light was not dazzling, but cool and clear, like moonlight, or perhaps a guiding light.

"jingle"

His frozen body suddenly relaxed.

It can move now.

His gaze was fixed on that light, like a moth drawn to a flame.

For some reason, a voice inside him was telling him:

Go there.

Chen Qian started walking.

Passing through the stagnant rain curtain and traversing the silent woodland, I walked step by step toward the mountaintop.

The road is long, yet it seems short.

There were no thorns, no steep slopes; it was as if an invisible road was supporting him beneath his feet.

I don't know how long it took.

It might be a single breath, or it might be an entire night.

When he finally stopped, the scene before him was different.

It was no longer a gloomy, dense forest, but a wide-open plain illuminated by the nearby moon.

In the center of that open space, a set of stone table and benches stood all alone.

On the stone bench, a group of figures were sitting.

You can't see their faces clearly, and you can't even tell if they're human or ghosts.

A flat, emotionless voice resounded directly in Chen Qian's mind:

"How about a game of handball?"