The morning passed quietly.
The forest was alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves. Sunlight filtered through the branches, painting patches of gold across the ground.
Ethan swung the axe again.
Thud.
A shallow mark appeared on the trunk. His body was still weak. Every few swings, his breathing became heavier, and his palms began to sting. He didn’t complain. Instead, he adjusted the way he held the axe.
Again.
Thud.
Again.
Thud.
By noon, he had already learned something.
The original owner of this body had relied too much on brute force. A tree wasn’t an enemy. There was no need to fight it. Each swing only had to land in the same place.
A little deeper.
A little cleaner.
A little more accurate.
Eventually.
Crack!
The tree leaned before falling with a loud crash. Ethan wiped the sweat from his forehead.
"Much better."
He wasn’t talking about the tree. He was talking about himself. Every world had its own rules. If he wanted to survive here, he first had to stop thinking like someone from Earth.
He tied the logs together with a worn rope and dragged them towards the village. The journey wasn’t long. Even so, he had to stop twice to catch his breath. This body had years of hard work behind it, but almost no proper food. It would take time to recover.
And time was something Ethan had already decided never to waste.
When he entered the village, a few people looked his way before returning to their own work.Nobody greeted him warmly.Nobody chased him away either.He simply existed. Neither important nor troublesome. Just another orphan trying to survive.
As he reached the wood storage beside the village square, a stout middle-aged man was already waiting. The man scratched his beard as Ethan dropped the bundle onto the ground.
"Hm."
He nudged one of the logs with his foot.
"You cut these yourself?"
Ethan nodded.
"Yes."
The man looked surprised for a brief moment. Normally, Ethan struggled to finish half this amount before sunset.
Today, he had returned before midday. The man reached into a small cloth pouch and tossed Ethan three copper coins.
"Not bad."
"Keep working like this."
Without another word, he turned to speak with someone else. Ethan looked at the three coins resting in his palm. Three small copper coins. It wasn’t much. But at least now he knew something. Money existed. Simple and practical. He slipped the coins into his pocket.
As he walked through the village again, the smell of fresh bread drifted from a nearby stall. His stomach growled. He smiled helplessly.
"So this body is honest."
He followed the smell until he reached a small wooden cart. An elderly man stood behind it, selling steamed buns.
"One copper."
Ethan looked at the basket. Each bun was about the size of his fist. He thought for a moment before handing over one coin.
The old vendor smiled.
"Fresh this morning."
Ethan thanked him and took the bun. It wasn’t anything special. Just flour and vegetables. Still, It was the best meal he’d eaten since arriving. Sometimes hunger made ordinary food taste extraordinary.
"Brother Ethan!"
A cheerful voice called from behind.
He turned.
A small girl, no older than eight, came running towards him.Her clothes were patched in several places, and her hair was tied into two uneven ponytails. She stopped a few steps away.
"You came back early today."
Ethan searched the memories of this body. Then he remembered. Her name was Lina. She lived with her grandfather near the entrance of the village. Whenever she found wild berries, she would secretly leave a few outside Ethan’s house. Not because she expected anything in return.
She simply thought no one should go hungry.
"What is it?" Ethan asked.
Lina pointed towards the sky.
"My grandpa said some Immortal Masters are coming tomorrow!"
Several villagers nearby immediately joined the conversation.
"I heard they’re recruiting disciples."
"You heard wrong."
"They only stop here to rest."
"My cousin saw flying swords once."
"Nonsense. That was probably a bird."
Everyone spoke at once. Ethan remained quiet. He simply listened. Listening often revealed more than asking.
An old hunter finally spoke.
"They pass through every few years."
"They don’t stay long."
"If someone has talent."
"They might be taken away."
The excitement around them grew. For ordinary villagers, Cultivators were no different from legends. Most people would never meet one in their lifetime. Ethan finished the last bite of his bun.
"So."
"They’re coming here."
Interesting, Very interesting. But he quickly pushed the thought aside. Whether cultivators arrived or not had nothing to do with him. Not yet. He was still just a weak village boy. Running towards something beyond his reach was no different from seeking death.
The afternoon passed peacefully. Ethan repaired the leaking roof of his house. Fetched water from the village well and Swept the floor. By sunset, the small room looked cleaner than before.
He sat outside on the wooden step. The setting sun dyed the sky orange. Children laughed as they chased one another home. Smoke rose from cooking fires. Dogs barked.
Since waking up in this world, Ethan felt truly calm. This wasn’t Earth, everything familiar was gone. Yet strangely, he didn’t feel lonely. Perhaps because he had accepted reality.Or perhaps because he had already decided something.
"I’ll live."
Not merely survive.
Live.
Properly.
Patiently.
One step at a time.
He looked towards the distant mountains once more. They stood silently beneath the evening sky. Waiting. Just like they had yesterday. Just like they would tomorrow.
Ethan smiled faintly.
"No need to rush."
"The mountains aren’t going anywhere."
Night soon fell. The village became quiet. One by one, the lights inside each house disappeared. Ethan lay on his wooden bed. His body ached from the day’s work. Before closing his eyes, he spoke softly into the darkness.
"Immortal Ring."
Silence.
He smiled.
"I didn’t think you’d answer."
He closed his eyes, Sleep slowly overtook him.
Deep within his consciousness, Far beyond his awareness. The ancient silver ring remained motionless. Like a witness waiting for the right moment. It neither urged, nor guided, nor interfered. It simply waited. For the day, its investment would finally begin to bear fruit.