C4 They Returned Home

"Just how long are you going to sleep? You're going to be late for school!" A familiar, angry voice jolted Ziming awake from his deep slumber.

He sprang up as if on autopilot, hastily dressing himself. "Mom, I'm getting dressed right now!"

"Huh? Wait a second, didn't I transmigrate?" Ziming paused, his clothes half on, suddenly stopping in his tracks. He scanned the room, finding himself in the same familiar, comforting doghouse.

He vividly remembered transmigrating into a dense forest, being pursued by a pack of ravenous wolves, and then being rescued by a man not much older than himself.

"Wasn't I tied to a chair as an experiment subject?" But the sound of car horns from outside snapped him back to reality.

He walked over to the window, drew back the peony-adorned curtains, and gazed at the bustling street below. He gave his cheeks a light slap. "It was all just a dream. But man, it felt incredibly real."

He chuckled at himself, dismissing the idea of transmigration. He was certainly not the type to have a protagonist's halo.

Peeling off his sweat-drenched pajamas, Ziming dragged his weary body to the bathroom. Despite having slept all night, he still felt utterly drained.

After freshening up, he stared at his gaunt reflection in the mirror, recalling his dashing and adorable appearance in that other world.

Splashing his face with water, he decided it was time to snap out of the dream. Towel in hand, he left the bathroom, got dressed in his room, and then shuffled to the dining table in his bunny slippers.

"Mom! What about breakfast?" Ziming stood perplexed in front of the barren table. He looked around; his mother, Wang Lanhua, was nowhere to be seen in the kitchen or anywhere else.

Glancing up at the living room clock, which read seven o'clock, he was puzzled. Usually, at this hour, Wang Lanhua would be tidying up the kitchen or sweeping the floor.

"It can't be. She was just calling for me. How could she vanish in an instant? Did I imagine it?"

With no sign of her anywhere in the house, Ziming couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps the voice calling him had been a trick of his subconscious.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine. If this was the work of his subconscious, it was truly terrifying.

Driven by hunger, Wu Ziming made his way to the kitchen, only to find the vast space completely devoid of food. There wasn't even a hint of fresh produce to be found.

"Looks like I have no choice but to go out and buy some," Wu Ziming sighed, acknowledging that he couldn't just skip meals. Yet, he remained oblivious to the eerie atmosphere that had settled in.

Descending the stairs, which felt more sinister than usual, Wu Ziming forcefully pushed open the creaky door of the old building. Gazing up at the cloudless blue sky, he felt a slight easing of the unease that gripped his heart.

As he walked through the complex's passageways, Wu Ziming finally became aware of the odd stillness. The once lively neighborhood was now eerily quiet, as if all its residents had vanished into thin air.

With his arms folded, he pressed on. The elderly who typically spent their time doting on grandchildren in the fitness area were conspicuously absent. Despite the heat of summer, the silence sent a chill through him.

He hastened out of the neighborhood he'd known for years, only to be met with a chilling sight on the street. It was deserted, not a soul in sight. The familiar breakfast stall in the distance still had steam rising from its oil pot, and he could make out the freshly fried youtiao inside.

But when he looked up, the surroundings had transformed. The entrance to his neighborhood had morphed into an ancient street, and the sky had darkened in an instant.

Turning his gaze back to the oil pot, it had now become a dry well. The bizarre scene frightened Wu Ziming so much that he stumbled and fell.

Covered in goosebumps and trembling, Wu Ziming picked himself up off the ground, muttering reassurances and apologies to any unseen entities.

Gathering his courage, he aimed for the well-lit street, reasoning that it was better to be among people than in a spooky, deserted place.

However, the moment he stepped onto the street, the wares on display terrified him to the core. Shops were selling paper money and coffins or shrouds and effigies. The whole street oozed a malevolent air.

That was the least of his worries. If the previous oddities weren't enough, the sight of the old men sitting in front of the shops, resembling dried-up corpses, was truly chilling.

Their dull eyes gleamed with a sharp light as they stared at Wu Ziming, who had just entered the street, as if he were a roasted pig willingly jumping onto the dinner table.

Wu Ziming, a staunch atheist, felt his hair stand on end. He couldn't help but wonder if he was experiencing the phenomenon known as 'ghost hitting the wall.'

"Could it be that I'm going to die here? Or is this all just a dream?" A torrent of fearful thoughts flooded his mind, and tears streamed down his pale face.

But as time went on, and he wasn't assaulted by any phantoms, his courage slowly returned. With heavy steps, he made his way toward the distant building sign.

Without noticing when it began, a mist had started to swirl around him, making the already dim lights blur. Wu Ziming wrapped his arms around himself and cautiously proceeded deeper into the street.

Suddenly, a white paper lantern inscribed with the character for 'Longevity' went out. A dark figure emerged from the mist, causing Wu Ziming's heart to seize up.

Tap! Tap! Tap!

The clear sound of footsteps echoed on the cobblestones, each one striking Wu Ziming's heart like the tolling of a death knell.

His heart raced uncontrollably, and fear seemed to drain all his strength. He mustered his energy to move back, but his legs wouldn't cooperate.

The shadowy figure drew nearer, and when Wu Ziming finally saw the face, he was rooted to the spot in shock.

The figure was his own shadow, but it bore a sinister appearance. A single glance into those blood-red eyes plunged him into an abyss of terror.

In those eyes, Wu Ziming saw visions of the Earth overrun by bloodthirsty flora or scenes of the massacre of innocents.

"Hey, wake up. Hey, wake up," a melodious and ethereal voice reached his ears, causing the environment to waver.

"Let me handle this, hey kid, the earplugs are out," the voice whispered as if right beside him. Wu Ziming watched in astonishment as his own body began to fade away.

"Who's there? Who's speaking? Who's speaking?" He tried to locate the source of the voice, but the scenery around him blurred and finally dissolved into endless darkness.

Blinking away the grogginess of sleep, Wu Ziming squinted under the harsh glare of the surgical lamp overhead. As his eyes adjusted, he took in his surroundings.

He recognized the people around him, yet they also seemed strange, leaving Wu Ziming with a mix of relief and disappointment. This was reality, not a dream.

Noticing Wu Ziming's distant gaze, Xiaoming, who was untying him, offered a gentle smile. "Lost in thought? You're not homesick, are you?"

"What did you just do to me? And what's that white sea cucumber thing?" Wu Ziming massaged his wrists, piecing together his recent memories, which brought his spirits down.

Anyone would be in a foul mood after being tied up and altered. Xiaoming, the unconventional traveler, couldn't resist making a joke. "You've had plastic surgery. Rise and shine, you're a girl now."

Hearing this, Wu Ziming panicked and quickly checked his pants, relieved to find that his 'little brother' was still intact.

"Just kidding," Xiaoming said with a grin. "This device is called the Thought Cage. Cultivators above the First Spark level are fond of possessing others to gather intelligence. Without any cultivation, you'd be helpless to resist possession.

"This gadget can trap those tricky souls. We've all got one installed for your protection."

"We should start with a history check to figure out which world this young man hails from," the stoic young man remarked casually. "We'll need to get you registered as well."

"History? Worlds?" Wu Ziming was bewildered. Was there a history exam in transmigration? But considering he had always excelled in history, he wasn't too worried.

Seeing Wu Ziming's confusion, the stoic young man took the time to clarify. "This world has its fair share of Earthlings, but they're usually from different versions of Earth. By chance, our group is from the same one, originating from a world where Ming Country is supreme.

"So far, we've identified five distinct Earths. There's one ruled by the Han Dynasty, another by the Tang Dynasty, and one known as Huaxia.

"The latter is a place of fragmented power and the most tumultuous of all. Then there's the least known, the Barren Land Earth, with very few inhabitants."

"There are actually so many worlds," Wu Ziming mused, his imagination already stretched beyond belief. Why had so many people from different worlds crossed over? Was it to feast on duck or to brawl in a free-for-all?

Xiaoming, now clad in a gray robe, approached. "Think of it as a parallel universe. So, what's your world like? What was the previous dynasty, and what year is it now?"

"I hail from Ming Country. The Yuan Dynasty preceded us, and the current year is 2333..." Wu Ziming recited as if he were reading from a textbook, sharing the details of his world with everyone.

"It looks like we can confirm it. The anomaly outside the city is the portal to our world," Xiaoming said, thoughtfully stroking his nonexistent beard with an air of serenity.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Wang Xiaoming, a handyman around here." He finished with a warm smile directed at Wu Ziming.

"I'm Wu Ziming, a student from Youzhou."

"The name's Ding Fu, from Luocheng. I own the House of Golden Virtue," the middle-aged man with the ever-present smile chimed in.

"Mark Jefferson, from New Village. I work as a chef." The stern-faced young man seemed to grasp the curiosity in Wu Ziming's eyes.

"Don't look at me that way. I've soul-transmigrated; this body isn't originally mine. Just call me Mark when we're outside."

"I'm Songjing Baihe, from Edo in Japan, a professional signboard girl. Outside, you can call me Nan Xuelin. There's also a little girl named Yinyin upstairs. She's Ding Fu's daughter and a bit shy, so she didn't come down."

After Baihe spoke, she fetched a set of clothes from the cabinet and handed them to Wu Ziming.

"This outfit is for you. You absolutely can't wear modern attire here. Luckily, this world isn't particular about hairstyles." Wu Ziming accepted the clothes, catching the delicate scent of jasmine.

"Hold on, that's the first outfit you made for me; it has sentimental value," Xiaoming interjected, seeing Baihe offer the clothes to someone else.

"You never wore it because it was too small, and now it's needed," Baihe replied. Wu Ziming hesitated, caught between the two. "Go ahead and try it on; we'll see if it's a good fit."

After everyone had departed, Wu Ziming slipped into his new attire. To his surprise, the clothes fit perfectly. The only issue was the belt; he wasn't quite sure how to fasten it. Aside from that minor hiccup, everything else was just right.