C1 The People Who Transmigrated Might Not be the Main Character

The forest on the outskirts of Eventide City was endless, with a full moon suspended in the night sky, casting a delicate silver glow over the infinite expanse of trees.

The vibrant chirping of cicadas, carried by a soft breeze, provided a cheerful symphony for the tranquil summer night.

A night owl glided under the cover of darkness, its piercing eyes fixed on its prey—a trembling mouse concealed beneath a layer of decaying leaves and twigs.

The mouse's camouflage was futile against the owl's keen vision. Just as the owl prepared to fold its wings and dive, a lean black-haired boy burst from the thickets.

The abrupt disturbance sent the owl into a frenzy, flapping its wings to gain altitude, allowing the mouse to narrowly escape and scurry into the underbrush.

The boy, who had inadvertently thwarted the owl's hunt, was now sprinting down a narrow jungle path, his ill-fitting, oversized clothes torn by brambles, with stones and vines underfoot nearly causing him to stumble.

"Hu~ Hu~!" The boy gasped for air, his lungs burning and limbs heavy and numb as if filled with lead.

Despite having pushed himself beyond his physical limits, the relentless howling of wolves spurred him on, leaving no room for pause.

The surrounding cicadas' song seemed to play a dirge for him.

Glancing back at the persistent pack of wolves, Wu Ziming, a man of the modern world, was astounded.

Moments before, he had been at home, sipping soda and singing, while working on his three-year college entrance exams and five-year mock tests. Suddenly, he found himself in this strange place, chased not by bandits...

No, it was wolves that had been pursuing him for the last half hour.

"Could it really be that I've traveled through time?" Wu Ziming, an avid reader of novels, couldn't help but wonder. Surveying his surroundings, the trees and the wolves chasing him were unlike any on Earth.

There were no blue leaves or tiger-sized wolves on Earth, after all.

Coming to terms with his unexpected journey through time, Wu Ziming couldn't help but feel indignant. Why!

Others who traveled through time found themselves as princes or monarchs, and at worst, as peasants or servants. Even beggars at least managed to survive.

Yet there he was, on the brink of death, with the grim prediction that he would become nothing more than a pile of wolf excrement in six hours' time.

This grim thought led Wu Ziming to question the reality of his otherworldly journey.

"Perhaps this is all just a dream. I'll wake up, and everything will be alright."

As Wu Ziming's mind raced with wild thoughts, his numb body unwittingly led him to a dead end at a stone wall.

"No escape!" Wu Ziming's face turned ashen as he pressed his back against the icy rock, his eyes darting around in terror, desperately searching for an escape route.

But alas, the wolves were masters of the hunt, not prone to such elementary errors. They had sealed off every possible exit with chilling efficiency.

The encircling behemoth wolves inched closer, their claws scraping the ground like a drumbeat pounding in Wu Ziming's chest. Their eyes glowed an eerie green, and drool dripped from their bared fangs, driving Wu Ziming further back in fear.

"I'm truly done for!" Wu Ziming's voice trembled with a hint of a sob, his legs shaking so much that he could barely stand, tears of hopelessness streaming down his face.

He was just a high school student; such horrors were beyond anything he'd ever faced.

"If only I could wake up, everything would be fine." As Wu Ziming tried to comfort himself with this thought, a howl erupted from behind the pack.

The wolves, no longer able to contain their bloodlust, charged at the cowering Wu Ziming like soldiers obeying a command.

With tear-filled eyes, Wu Ziming watched the snarling wolves leap towards him. Instinctively, he shut his eyes and curled into a fetal position, bracing for the worst.

Suddenly, a piercing howl caught Wu Ziming's attention, and curiously, the anticipated mauling never came. Driven by curiosity, he peeked through the gaps between his fingers.

Before him stood a figure of modest height, standing over a black wolf that was still struggling beneath his feet.

The black wolves, previously poised to attack, now hesitated, as if the man standing before Wu Ziming was an insurmountable barrier—a wall named Death.

"Hey there, kiddo, looks like I arrived just in time. Shame I'm not rescuing a damsel in distress," the man quipped with a smirk.

Despite the peril, the man in grey seemed to find room for humor.

At that moment, the encircling wolves parted, creating a path for a formidable white wolf, far stronger than the others, to emerge from the pack. This was the Wolf King of the group.

The remaining wolves watched the man in gray with wary eyes. Despite their fear of the man who had just walked away, they couldn't help but wonder: didn't the Wolf King care about losing face?

The man in gray, who seemed to consider these creatures beneath his notice, appeared annoyed by the black wolf at his feet. With a sudden flourish, a long spear materialized in his hand, and he nonchalantly skewered the black wolf's head.

This act incited the Wolf King's wrath. After all, one should consider the master before striking the dog. With limited intelligence and now fueled by boundless rage, the Wolf King's fear dissipated.

With a howl, the Wolf King commanded the surrounding black wolves to charge at the not-so-tall man in gray.

"Be careful!" Wu Ziming called out with good intentions, but the man in gray paid him no heed, maintaining his composed and casual demeanor. Ziming couldn't bear to watch any longer.

In the instant the black wolf's gaping jaws were about to clamp down, the man in gray erupted in a burst of blue steam. He transformed into a blur of blue light, darting swiftly through the pack of wolves.

"Oh my God!" Wu Ziming's eyes widened in disbelief. What kind of world was this? Steampunk? Or some kind of mystical cultivation fantasy?

Before he could snap out of his astonishment, the battle was over. The once menacing black wolves now staggered and collapsed onto the ground. The man in gray withdrew his spear from the Wolf King's head, splattering his own face with fresh blood.

"Can you still stand up, kid?" he asked, approaching Wu Ziming, who was seated on the ground.

Under the weak moonlight, Ziming could finally make out the man's face—it was a young man around his own age, not particularly handsome. What stood out most were the two peculiar belts at his waist, made of bronze and as large as fists, carrying a heavy scent of grease. Ziming couldn't help but wonder if the man in gray had just arrived from a kitchen.

Noticing Ziming's lack of response, the man in gray arched an eyebrow and waved his hand in front of him. "You haven't been scared silly, have you?"

"I'm... I'm fine," Wu Ziming said, his voice quivering as he steadied himself against the rock wall. His legs still shook, and he nearly stumbled as he tried to move.

"Excuse me, but where are we?" Wu Ziming asked the man in gray who had helped him up.

"Hey, kid, I save your life and not even a thank you?" It was only upon hearing this that Wu Ziming remembered he hadn't yet expressed his gratitude.

But before he could utter his thanks, the man in gray cut him off. "Ah! Enough, enough, I'm not one to keep score."

"I..." Wu Ziming, cut off mid-sentence, nearly choked.

"Let's get moving. This isn't a place for conversation," the man in gray said cheerfully, wiping the blood from his face and extending his hand to Wu Ziming.

"Where to?" Wu Ziming was cautious. Even though the man in gray had saved him, he couldn't fully trust him just yet. After all, he might have traveled through time, and who knows if this stranger might turn on him?

Seeing Wu Ziming eye him warily, the man in gray sighed with a hint of resignation. "If you prefer to spend the night out here, that's fine by me. But please, hurry up. Holding my hand up like this is getting tiring."

Wu Ziming hesitated. It didn't feel safe to follow this stranger, but staying alone in the wilderness with unknown dangers lurking didn't seem wise either.

He decided to take a chance and extended his hand.

Little did Wu Ziming know that this gesture would mark the beginning of a dreamlike journey, one filled with thrilling new experiences.

Just then, something astonishing happened. As soon as his hand touched the other's, the scenery around them transformed dramatically.

The barren field was suddenly replaced by a bedroom that seemed to belong to an ancient drama. Wu Ziming looked around at the white, ancient-styled room and rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

If he wasn't mistaken, he had just experienced teleportation. Reflecting on everything that had happened, he was now eager to find out which world he had ended up in.

Was it a world of fantasy or one of cultivation?

Wu Ziming pinched himself sharply, the pain snapping him back to reality.

He stood frozen in place, the realization hitting him—he had actually transmigrated!

The man in grey stole a glance at Wu Ziming, who was in the midst of a panic, while deep in thought about the recent events. He had just sat down at the octagonal table and poured himself a cup of tea when the creaking of the door being pushed open interrupted him.

The old carved wooden door swung open with force, drawing Wu Ziming's attention. He turned toward the noise and saw a girl in traditional attire, her head adorned with a silver hairpin, entering the room.

A black ribbon encircled her neck, but it wasn't her delicate beauty that captivated Wu Ziming—it was the teardrop mole at the corner of her eye, irresistibly drawing one's gaze.

"Heh, Xiaoming, you seem to have a lot of free time. It took you an hour to pick someone up. Stop dawdling and come help," commanded a voice that brooked no argument.

It was then that Wu Ziming realized the man in grey who had rescued him was named Xiaoming, a name he found surprisingly ordinary; he had expected something like Ye Chen.

The girl, catching Wu Ziming's covert glances, assessed him with curiosity. Despite his tattered clothes, he was about fifteen or sixteen, with a refined look that carried a hint of boyish charm. He would be a prime candidate for servitude; in the Teeth Slave Market, he would undoubtedly be fiercely sought after by noblewomen and men of peculiar tastes.

Pushing aside her thoughts, the girl in pink shifted her focus back to Xiaoming, who was still leisurely sipping his tea.

"Are you still drinking tea? Come on, we need your help," she said, and without waiting for a reply, she grabbed Xiaoming's arm and started pulling him out of the room.

"I've just returned; I need to have a drink of water. Sigh! Whatever it is, it can wait," the man in grey protested, but the girl was already dragging him out, leaving behind a bewildered Wu Ziming, scratching his head in confusion.

"Uh, I..."