It was midnight.
The moonlight glowed softly, dreamlike and ethereal.
The steady scrape-scrape of a whetstone filled the air.
A sharpening stone, half a ladle of clear water, and a rusty, mottled long saber.
Under the bright moonlight, Chu Mu focused intently, grinding the saber's blade against the stone.
With each grating stroke, the rusty saber slowly revealed a gleam of polished steel.
Splash…
A pour of clear water washed away the rust and grime, stripping away the blemishes. The blade shone, catching the moonlight, its cold gleam dancing across the small courtyard.
Chu Mu studied the saber for a moment, lips pressed tight. He glanced around the unfamiliar yard, a flicker of loneliness and confusion shadowing his face.
It was hard to fathom: one moment, he was in the modern world; the next, he was here, in a completely alien place.
A strange era, strange people, even fragmented, unfamiliar memories… and a body that wasn't his.
Chu Mu lowered his gaze. In the moonlight, the water in the ladle reflected a faint face.
It was his face, yet utterly foreign. He'd seen it before, but the sensation remained uncanny, almost chilling.
Unsettling and bizarre, yet one word seemed to fit his situation perfectly.
Transmigration?
Chu Mu shook his head silently, torn between wry amusement and unease.
A few days into this new life, piecing together the original owner's patchy memories, he'd gotten a rough sense of where he'd landed.
This was an ancient dynasty called Great Chu, and he was in a small town on its northern frontier.
Despite the name, it didn't match any dynasty he knew from history—it was an unknown, otherworldly realm.
As for his—or rather, the original owner's—background, it was straightforward. His mother died early. His father had been a patrol officer in the county's Patrol Division, later transferred to Nanshan Town. But within two years, he died on duty, his body never recovered.
Grief-stricken, the original owner fainted and passed away, and Chu Mu, like a cuckoo claiming a magpie's nest, found himself thrust into this world as Chu Mu of this era, this town.
In a daze, he handled the funeral for the original owner's father. After a few days alone, he began to adjust, however slightly, to this era and his jarring arrival.
Late autumn was nearing, the night air carrying a chill. A cool breeze brushed past, and Chu Mu instinctively pulled his clothes tighter, his tangled thoughts easing a bit.
He turned the saber in his hand, carefully sliding it back into its sheath. As he started toward the house, a thought struck him. Silently, he focused, and a faint blue, translucent panel appeared in his vision.
[Name: Chu Mu]
[Skills: None]
[Spirit Glow Value: 99.9%]
The panel was otherworldly, like a game's skill interface, clearly not native to this ancient world.
Chu Mu wasn't fazed. Transmigration was wild enough; a transmigrator's standard cheat code—a "golden finger"—was practically expected.
Its functions were as clear as the panel displayed.
"Name" was self-explanatory: him.
"Skills" was equally obvious, though none were listed yet, likely because he hadn't met some requirement. Freshly arrived and caught up with the funeral, he hadn't had time to explore it.
As for "Spirit Glow Value," it referred to some mysterious energy he didn't yet fully grasp. Gaining it wasn't exactly hard, but it wasn't easy either.
Whenever Chu Mu focused deeply on a task—reading, training, thinking, or even sharpening the saber moments ago—as long as he was wholly absorbed, the "Spirit Glow Value" would rise.
The 99.9% he'd reached was the result of his efforts over these past few days.
What the value did, though, remained unclear, despite his guesses.
"Maybe it's tied to skills," Chu Mu mused, staring at the panel's number.
Lost in thought, his eyes sharpened. The Spirit Glow Value, already at 99.9%, ticked up to 100%, likely from his focused pondering just now.
At that moment, a small, flashing "+" appeared next to the value.
"Add points?" Chu Mu thought instinctively.
He'd read enough novels in his past life to recognize the concept.
But after a moment's scrutiny, confusion set in. No skills were listed—how could he add points? The panel offered no options to allocate them.
"Is my cheat code broken?" he wondered.
After a brief pause, he pursed his lips, his gaze settling on the freshly sharpened saber in his hand.
The saber was a family heirloom, or rather, standard issue from the Patrol Division. The original owner's father had used it, and after his death on duty, it should've been returned.
But since his father died in service, tradition allowed a generous pension and the chance for the son to take his father's post, keeping the "official rice bowl."
New to this world and still adjusting, Chu Mu wasn't about to let that opportunity slip. After the funeral, he'd gone to the county's Patrol Division to secure the position.
Taking his father's place, he became a patrol officer in Nanshan Town.
The saber, naturally, stayed with him as his official weapon.
With a saber came saber techniques.
The original owner's father, a patrol officer for years, wasn't a master but had honed the Patrol Division's saber forms well.
In the original owner's memories, as a child, he'd often practiced these forms with his father, enough to call it a skill, however modest.
Saber techniques… that should count as a skill, right?
With this thought, Chu Mu sifted through the memories of those forms. After a while, he snapped out of it.
Drawing the saber, he began to move, recalling the techniques.
The forms weren't complex. Patrol officers, half-civilian, half-military, trained in basic moves: slash, chop, thrust. Simple enough.
With the original owner's foundation, Chu Mu soon wielded the saber decently, the blade cutting through the air with some resemblance to the forms.
But it was just that—decent. In his mind, his childhood romps through cornfields, swinging a stick, probably looked more impressive.
The iron saber was heavy, far less forgiving than a child's wooden stick, wielded with reckless abandon.
This is a mortal stream, a bit different from typical ones, with more detail and some unique elements. The pacing is slow, not fast—don't expect a rapid-fire plot! If it's not your thing, please don't hate. Thanks.
*(Chapter End)*