The first sensation Li Xuan registered was the dust. It wasn't just a fine film or a light sprinkle; it was an ancient, oppressive shroud that seemed to have settled over everything for decades, maybe even centuries. It clung to the rough, splintered wooden beams above him, layered thick on the rickety, worm-eaten table beside what he now realized was a makeshift bed. Each breath he took felt gritty, and a paroxysm of dry coughs wracked his body, tearing at a throat that felt like sandpaper. His lungs burned, protesting the sudden intake of millennia-old grime.
"What the... where am I?" he rasped, his voice a pathetic, reedy croak, barely audible over the wheezing in his chest. His eyes, watering from the irritation, slowly adjusted to the gloom.
He pushed himself up, his muscles protesting with a dull ache that seemed to permeate his entire being. The surface beneath him was a collection of coarse, brittle straw mats, arranged on a low, raised platform that creaked ominously under his weight. This was no memory foam mattress, no plush gaming chair. This was... hard. And scratchy. And dusty.
The room itself was small, claustrophobic, and oppressively dim. A single, grimy window, caked in layers of dirt and an intricate lacework of ancient cobwebs, offered only a meager, watery sliver of daylight. The air hung stagnant, heavy with the scent of damp earth, decaying wood, and something faintly metallic, like forgotten rust. On one wall, a faded, threadbare banner hung crookedly, depicting a stylized leaf, its edges brittle and brown, as if mirroring the state of everything around it. It looked like it had been there since before his great-great-grandfather was born, silently witnessing the slow, agonizing decay of this forgotten place.
His mind, usually sharp and quick-witted, felt sluggish, like a computer running on dial-up. He tried to piece together his last coherent memory: the triumphant glow of his monitor, the satisfying thunk of his keyboard as he executed the final rotation, the collective cheer of his raid team over voice chat as the colossal boss of 'Mythic Empires Online' finally crumpled into pixels. He'd been on the verge of claiming the server's First Clear. The culmination of weeks of strategizing, grinding, and sleepless nights. And now... this?
"This isn't my apartment," he muttered, his voice a little stronger this time, laced with a growing panic. "This isn't my rig. This isn't even a decent internet cafe." He reached out, pinching the flesh on his forearm. Hard.
"Ow! Son of a... Okay, not a dream. Unless I'm dreaming of pain, which is just a sadistic level of meta-torture."
He swung his legs over the side of the platform, his bare feet meeting a cold, cracked earthen floor. He stumbled, catching himself against a wall that felt rough and unstable. Pushing open a door that groaned in agonizing protest – a sound like an old man complaining about a persistent morning chill – he stepped into what appeared to be a main hall.
It was larger than the bedroom, but equally, if not more, dilapidated. Enormous, gaping holes peppered the roof, allowing shafts of weak, watery sunlight to pierce the gloom, illuminating swirling constellations of dust motes dancing in the stagnant air. The hall was dominated by a colossal, cracked stone tablet at one end, its surface so worn smooth by time and neglect that any engravings it once held were now mere ghost lines. Cobwebs, thick as cotton candy, draped from every corner, swaying gently in a non-existent breeze. Broken ceramic pots lay shattered on the floor, their contents spilled and long since dried to indistinguishable crumbs. There was even a faint, unsettling scent of mold and something vaguely like bat guano. This wasn't just old; this was ancient, forgotten, and utterly beyond redemption.
"This is a joke, right?" he whispered, his voice rising in disbelief. "Did my friends pull the ultimate prank? Is this some kind of elaborate escape room? Because if it is, it's pretty low budget."
Just as a wave of cold dread washed over him, threatening to drag him under, a peculiar phenomenon occurred. Right before his eyes, shimmering into existence like a perfectly rendered holographic display, a translucent blue box materialized. It floated silently, unnervingly still, emitting a soft, internal glow that cast a faint azure hue on the dusty air. Li Xuan blinked, then rubbed his eyes furiously. The box remained. Unyielding. Unblinking.
It had text on it. Bright, glowing text that seemed to hum with an internal energy, the kind of satisfying visual feedback he'd only ever seen in high-definition games.
[Welcome, Host! Congratulations on your successful transmigration!]
Li Xuan stared. His mind, still reeling from the visual, finally processed the words. "Transmigration?" He scoffed, a dry, humorless sound. "Is this some kind of sick, elaborate VR game? The graphics are... surprisingly immersive, I guess." He reached out a hesitant hand, his fingers passing right through the glowing interface as if it were made of pure light. It felt like nothing, yet it was undeniably there, demanding his attention.
The text on the box shifted, a new line appearing beneath the previous one.
[Initiating Sect Growth System. Detecting Host: Li Xuan. Current Sect: Falling Leaf Sect. Status: Dying. Members: 1. Reputation: Non-existent. Wealth: Penniless.]
Li Xuan's jaw dropped. "Falling Leaf Sect? Dying? Penniless?" He felt a laugh bubble up from deep within him, a hysterical, disbelieving sound that echoed eerily in the empty hall. "Are you absolutely kidding me? I was just about to clear the last raid boss in 'Mythic Empires Online'! I had perfect gear, a maxed-out character, and the best guild on the server! And you're telling me I'm... this? The last, single member of a dying, penniless sect?" His voice rose with each question, spiraling into incredulity.
The system, as if programmed to be utterly impervious to human emotion, ignored his outburst. Its text box simply updated, coldly, efficiently.
[Mission: Revive the Falling Leaf Sect.]
[Current Objective: Cleanse 10 square meters of the sect courtyard.]
[Reward: Lesser Qi Gathering Manual (Common Grade).]
Li Xuan slowly read the new lines, his mind struggling to compute. "Cleanse ten square meters?" he repeated, his voice now a strained whisper. "You dragged me across dimensions, dropped me in this absolute, godforsaken dump, and your first mission is... housekeeping? Like, actual chores? Not slay a dragon? Not find a legendary artifact? Just... sweep the damn floor?"
He slumped against a crumbling pillar, letting its rough, gritty surface scrape against his cheek. He ran a trembling hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. This was it. This was his new reality. He, Li Xuan, master gamer, raid leader, and legendary dungeon crawler, was now an accidental sect leader in a world he knew nothing about, tasked with... chores. The universe, it seemed, had a truly twisted, dark sense of humor. He looked past the pillar, through another gaping hole in the hall's wall, to the vast, overgrown, dust-choked courtyard outside. Ten square meters. That was less than half the size of his old living room. And yet, looking at the sheer, overwhelming scale of the decrepitude, the piles of fallen leaves that had long since turned to mulch, the weeds that grew taller than he was, the broken stone pathways swallowed by encroaching dirt, it felt like an insurmountable, Herculean task.
A deep, defeated sigh escaped his lips. The kind of sigh that carried the weight of existential despair. He pushed himself off the pillar, a grim determination slowly hardening his features. If this was a game, then he knew one thing: you didn't win by giving up. You didn't win by complaining to the system. You won by grinding. By finding the loopholes. By optimizing.
"Alright, System," he muttered, his voice low, a new glint in his eye. "If this is my new game, fine. If I'm stuck here, then I'm going to play to win. But you better have some damn good loot for these side quests, or I'm sending you a strongly worded customer service complaint from across the multi-verse." He picked up a fallen, brittle branch that looked like it might serve as a makeshift broom, and headed towards the courtyard, a gamer's stubborn resolve beginning to ignite within him. The Accidental Sect Leader was about to begin his first, very dusty, quest.