💬 If you were reborn in 1919 with future knowledge… what would be your first move? Stay safe on a farm? Or head straight for a city like New York to change history?
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After finishing his tea, George leaned back in his armchair, eyes half-closed. The warmth in his chest lingered, but his mind buzzed with thoughts of the future.
A farm might offer peace, but peace was fleeting in a world on the verge of transformation.
The United States in 1919 was a land of potential—and problems. The Great War had just ended. Soldiers were returning home, industries were shifting, and racial tensions simmered beneath the surface. Prohibition loomed. The Roaring Twenties were just around the corner, and with them, economic booms and crushing busts.
George had knowledge that no one else did. That alone made him dangerous.
He stood, crossing to the window. Morning light spilled across the fields. The Tennessee farmland was vast, rolling in gentle waves of gold and green.
He exhaled slowly.
"I can't stay here forever," he murmured. "Not if I want to do more than just survive."
He turned to Ryan.
"Uncle Ryan," he said, voice steady, "I want to go to New York."
The older man blinked. "New York? That's quite the leap, George. What for?"
"Opportunity. Growth. Maybe even... purpose."
Ryan studied him in silence for a moment. "You're serious."
George nodded. "Completely."
Ryan sighed, then chuckled. "Well, I should've known. You're your father's son through and through. He left home young too, seeking his own way."
"I won't sell the land," George added. "It'll stay in the family. But it doesn't need to chain me here."
Ryan nodded slowly. "We'll need to prepare. It's not just a matter of packing a bag."
George smiled. "I know. But I think... I think I was made for more than just tending wheat."
The next few weeks passed in a flurry of quiet activity.
George used his time wisely. He drew more energy into the Chaos Pearl, resisting the temptation to make daily pulls. He let the power accumulate, deciding to try for higher-tier worlds soon.
He spent evenings helping Elly refine her cooking, blending modern techniques with rustic traditions. Her smile grew brighter each time a dish came out better than the last.
He even took time to work with Ryan on estate matters, reviewing accounts and learning the nuances of managing land and money. For someone preparing to enter a new world, understanding the one he currently stood in was critical.
When he wasn't working, he trained.
Using the Chaos Pearl's strengthening energy, he honed his reflexes, his balance, his core. He practiced with the dagger until it felt like an extension of his arm. In the barn, he set up makeshift targets, blending self-taught martial arts with instinct. What he lacked in formal instruction, he made up for in precision.
His mind, too, sharpened. He began organizing what he remembered of future history—events, dates, movements. It was hazy at times, but the broad strokes remained.
He couldn't predict everything. But he could prepare.
By the end of the third week, his Chaos Pearl buzzed softly with accumulated energy. Thirty full units.
Enough.
That night, in the stillness of his room, George sat cross-legged on his bed. The world outside was silent, blanketed by a thick Tennessee fog.
He reached inward.
The Chaos Space unfolded before him like a dreamscape. Stars twinkled in all directions—each a world, each a mystery.
He scanned them slowly, letting instinct guide him.
Then one shimmered.
A deep violet glow. Ancient. Heavy. Full of potential.
He focused.
[Drawing from: Xianxia World - "Heavenly Sword Chronicle"]
The glowing orb descended. George caught it in his spiritual hands, feeling its weight, its intensity.
Crack.
The orb shattered.
Light poured into him.
He gasped, eyes flying open.
His heart raced. His body trembled. Sweat beaded down his back.
In his mind, a flood of new knowledge surged:
The "Heavenly Sword Body" physique: a rare constitution that harmonized with sword energy.
Foundational techniques of qi cultivation and spiritual root awakening.
A beginner's manual for the "Jade Flowing Sword Art."
His breath came in shallow bursts. It wasn't just knowledge—it was resonance. As if his body had been waiting for this.
He stood slowly, flexing his fingers.
Energy danced along his skin, invisible but present. His senses expanded. He could feel the air move, the warmth of the hearth downstairs, the tiny shifts in his surroundings.
He grinned.
"This changes everything."
The next morning, George packed a satchel. Not much—just a few clothes, some gold hidden cleverly inside, his dagger, and a small journal where he had begun recording everything he knew.
Ryan drove him to the train station. Elly wept as she hugged him goodbye.
"Promise me you'll eat well," she sniffled.
George smiled. "I promise. And when I write, I want recipes in return."
She laughed through her tears.
Ryan gripped his shoulder. "New York's not an easy place."
"Neither was here," George replied. "But I'll find my way. I have to."
The train whistle blew.
George stepped aboard, found his seat, and stared out the window.
As the train pulled away, the fields of Tennessee blurred behind him.
Ahead lay skyscrapers, steam, and steel.
A century of chaos, conflict, and opportunity.
And George Orwell, once Qiao Zhi, armed with knowledge, talent, and a Chaos Pearl, was ready to meet it.
—End of Chapter 2—
Thanks for sticking with the story! This chapter sets the tone for George's path forward—training, strategy, and the first real step into a wider world.Â
Let me know your thoughts below, and drop your answer to the question too!