Martial Saint?
1: Chapter 1: Wenqu?
Martial Saint?
“Aha!
Captured one lucky little angel from a Dayun truck!” “La la la, planting suns…
Let’s check this year’s unfinished transmigration quota first…
Hmm…
*Error of the Sun and Moon*?
Ew~ gross!
Who gave me this task assignment?
Assigning a newborn little system like me to *Error of the Sun and Moon*?
The nerve!
Throw it away, throw it away…” “Let me check this one…
*Detective Conan*?
The time span is way too long; once you go in, you never come out.
PASS!
*Harry Potter*?
Already been there, pick another!
*Tokyo Ghoul*?
Mmm, not hungry, forget it~ Eeny, meeny, miny, moe~ Oho!
I choose you, *Naruto*!” “Let’s set the time node a bit earlier so the host has more time to lie low.” “Right here then.
Perfect timing—the Uchiha clan massacre.
Transmigrating into someone newly dead can help form a bond with the protagonist faster.
Ehe, while it’s still warm!
This one just passed away a moment ago, no signs of life nearby, repairing body…” “Hey, hey, Itachi!
What are you doing?
They’re already dead, why did you come back specifically to take a look?
To finish off your old man?
Wait, you’re actually stabbing him again?!” *Pfft!
System error!
Core reaction energy draining…
Emergency extraction, bloodline purification failed…
Beep!
Beep!
Beep!
Extracting bloodline!
Bloodline extraction successful!
System core reaction energy draining…
Extraction successful!* “I can’t hold on, gotta retreat!
Forget it, I’ll just give you everything that’s left.
Core reaction energy successfully injected into bloodline…
System consciousness extracting…
Extraction successful!
Bloodline injection successful…
Modifying corresponding functions based on host’s consciousness…
Modification successful!
Selecting world…
Marvel Cinematic Universe initialized!
Deploying Truck-kun’s lucky little angel!” “So unlucky!
Not only will I fail to meet this period’s quota, I’m gonna get chewed out!
Whatever, with this last 5% energy, I’ll leave a message and head back to headquarters to restore system functionality and recharge!” …
Julian Vance woke up to find himself lying on the street.
The blinding headlights of the oncoming Dayun truck had been replaced by a streetlamp high above.
Over his body lay a few pieces of cardboard that provided wind protection but zero warmth.
His entire body stank of impending sourness, mixed with the stench of stale urine from a nearby dark corner, leaving Julian completely bewildered for a moment.
Transmigrated?
Where the hell did it drop me in the middle of the night?
Others go to Hogwarts to become wizards, or to the world of *Detective Conan* to enjoy the drama, or at least a Beijing courtyard house—I’m familiar with those!
But what’s my situation?
Starting with a…
wait, I don’t even have a bowl!
Just giving me a few piece-of-trash cardboard boxes?
What kind of joke is this?
Julian searched himself over and over, finally confirming that he had only two bucks on him.
“System bro?
System?
*Break the darkness with thunder!* Appear, I choose you…” Great, nothing!
After acting crazy for a bit, Julian felt the cold creeping in.
He seemed to have a fever.
In the dead of night, there was no one around.
Looking left and right, it wasn’t brightly lit, but it wasn’t pitch dark either.
The only thing he could confirm was that it wasn’t a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
He couldn’t wait any longer; he had to find a warm place sheltered from the wind first.
This dark spot was too cold to endure.
Julian looked at the cardboard beneath him.
There was no backpack around, nor any proof of identity on his person.
He didn’t know who he was or where home was, so he could only head toward a place with people first.
Following the light from the underground passage, he shuffled shivering for nearly a hundred meters.
Looking at the English lettering around him, he first confirmed he wasn’t in China.
Unable to hold out much longer, he spotted an alley and went in to rummage around.
Luckily, nobody was there.
Around the corner ahead was probably a bakery.
The leftover surplus bags hadn’t been completely wiped clean—the discarded ones were already picked over, but a small piece of bread remained inside a small paper wrapper.
Without a second word, he picked it up and ate it, then curled into a corner to recover a bit of strength.
Where light glinted at his feet lay a piece of a mirror, quietly reflecting the streetlamp light from the alley entrance nearby.
Julian laboriously picked it up and shone it on his face.
*Clatter!* His hand trembled, and he dropped the already small mirror, shattering it into two halves!
He hadn’t seen his face clearly in the dark, but two crimson dots had been unmistakable!
Scrambling, he picked up the mirror pieces again.
Don’t ask—if in doubt, it might be his Golden Finger!
He needed to figure it out first to see if he could use it to get some food, clothing, and water.
This time he saw clearly.
Julian grinned—good stuff!
Then he covered his face with his right hand, peeking out through the gaps between his fingers with his left eye: “Amaterasu!” Nothing happened!
Huh?
Huh, huh, huh?
That’s not right!
Three-tomoe—it’s definitely the Sharingan, isn’t it?
Whose?
Shisui’s?
Itachi’s?
Sasuke’s?
Obito’s?
Where’s the instruction manual?
Or does it not work without a target?
How do I use it?
Julian saw through the mirror that although his Sharingan display had been a bit chunibyo just now, the reality was that he had no idea how to use it.
There was no relevant information at all, he didn’t know hand seals, and he had no clue how to trigger it.
At this moment, the bread he ate finally produced a tiny bit of energy.
As this small amount of energy was consumed, Julian’s eyes flashed, and he subsequently received the system’s final message!
“Hey, hey, can you hear me?
Whatever, I’ll assume you can.
Sorry, lucky little angel!
Special circumstances—I got attacked and need to go back to the factory for repairs.
I won’t be able to help you anymore, but I managed to leave you a Golden Finger in the end.
I don’t know its exact functions either, but basic laws indicate it was modified based on your consciousness.
Focus on it and study it yourself, and you should figure it out.
After all, it’s fused with your soul.
Stay alive, my failed task quota…” Refund my money!
Julian wanted to yell, but he lacked the strength.
Fortunately, the system had provided a hint, so he closed his eyes and sensed silently.
There really was guidance—after closing his eyes, he could clearly feel the energy in his left and right eyes, and finally determined the purpose of both eyes!
Left eye: Wenqu!
Right eye: Martial Saint!
Just two terms, no further explanation.
The only feeling was that these two functions didn’t seem directly tied to his physical eyes, but resided primarily in his soul.
Most likely, the bloodline had fused with his body and soul beforehand, resulting in these two functions leaning toward his personal consciousness.
In other words, most functions of the Sharingan were likely defunct.
Good news: no need for hand seals.
Bad news: hand seals wouldn’t work anyway.
After being blown by the cold wind for half the night, Julian finally endured until morning.
He felt his hands and feet freezing, and his head began to grow dizzy again.
Just as he was about to get up, his vision went black, and he collapsed backward.
He couldn’t help feeling helpless.
This…
was a bit much.
Throwing someone over in the dead of night without a starter pack, giving them a hellish start, and before things even began, snapping dead again.
Two lives wasted for nothing.
In his blurred vision, he saw a dark silhouette pass by the alley entrance, pause for a moment, and then walk toward him.
Before losing consciousness, Julian could only sigh inwardly: foreign Reapers were really dedicated.
How early did he have to stand waiting for my health bar to empty just to harvest me so promptly?
…
When he opened his eyes again, he was already lying on a bed.
Julian looked around.
A yellowed ceiling, yellow moisture stains in the corner, tightly closed windows through which an alleyway of modest width could be seen.
There weren’t many people outside, but luckily it didn’t look overly gloomy.
The blanket over him was clean, though he had no idea where he was.
Just as he was about to sit up, the door was pushed open!
A middle-aged man walked in carrying a food tray.
Seeing Julian awake, the man came over, helped Julian sit up, and handed him the tray.
“Hey, get something to eat, kid.
You should be glad today is Sunday and I don’t have work, otherwise I wouldn’t be strolling around Queens and happen to run into you.” Ignoring the middle-aged man’s teasing, Julian was simply too starved.
Washing down the bread on the plate with the oatmeal porridge, he finally gained enough strength to observe the man.
Only then did he notice that more than one person had come.
Standing at the doorway was a blonde little boy, timidly hiding behind the door, peeking at him secretly.
Julian smiled and waved at the little boy as a greeting, then turned to look at the middle-aged man.
“Thank you for saving my life.
May I ask…
Uh, sorry, sir, thank you so much for your help.
If it weren’t for you, I might be scattered across major hospitals in America right now.
My name is Julian Vance.
I’ve run into some trouble, and right now I might not be able to offer any proper reward…” “No, no, no, kid.
I didn’t save you for a reward.
I was just passing by, and I’ve been to China before—I like it there, and it left a great impression on me.
I don’t expect anything from you.
Oh, by the way, I’m Benjamin Parker.
You can call me Uncle Ben.
This is my nephew, Peter Parker.
As you can see, he’s a bit curious about you.
Your eyes are quite special…” Uncle Ben introduced himself and the little boy, leaving Julian a bit dazed.
Spider-Man?
Which version?
Uncle Ben is still alive…
Tobey or Andrew?
No, no, no—when Tom Holland was this age, Uncle Ben was still around too.
Julian’s current dilemma was that he didn’t know his true background—was he a normal civilian or a superpowered threat?
Either way, he had no official identity, considering he almost starved to death on the street.
For that reason, Julian decided to take a gamble; after all, if his original self had been a dangerous mutant or villain, he wouldn’t have ended up in such miserable shape.
“Uncle Ben, something is wrong with my body right now—maybe because of my eyes.
I’ve forgotten many things, including who I am.
I only remember my name is Julian Vance, and even that name might not be entirely correct.
So I have no direction at all.
Maybe your rich life experience could guide me on what to do next.
I’m pretty lost right now.” “Poor kid.
I have some acquaintance with Officer Sandrel down the street.
Rest up for now, and after lunch, I’ll take you to see him.
If possible, I think he can help you figure out who you really are.” Uncle Ben stared at Julian without saying anything extra.
Taking the empty food tray from Julian’s hands, he continued: “Now, get some more rest and take a shower.
I need to keep an eye on Peter—he’s only six, a bit mischievous, and has endless energy.” “Please go ahead.
Thank you again for your help!” Uncle Ben took little Spidey downstairs.
Julian looked at the clock on the nightstand—it was around 10:00 AM.
He understood Uncle Ben’s underlying intent: if you’re a good guy, stay for lunch, and we’ll check your identity at noon; if you’re pretending, you’d better leave quickly, otherwise he’ll report you to the police later.
Stay for lunch?
Enjoy some lead poisoning.
Fortunately, Chinese people weren’t particularly terrified of the police, and this calm demeanor prevented Uncle Ben from turning hostile on the spot, accepting Julian’s excuse of amnesia.
Whether Uncle Ben truly believed it was another matter, but if Julian had shown emotional volatility at the mention of the police, Uncle Ben would certainly have grown far more vigilant—even if Julian was currently just a sickly, frail sixteen-or-seventeen-year-old youth.