Pain woke him up.
It was not sudden or sharp. It was dull, heavy, and everywhere, as if his body had been beaten and then left in the cold for a long time. His head felt dizzy, his chest tight, and every breath scratched his throat.
Cold air touched his face.
He slowly opened his eyes.
The sky above him was gray and low, covered by thick clouds. There were no tall buildings, no streetlights, no familiar sounds. Only silence, broken by a weak wind that carried a strange smell—dirt, rust, and old blood.
"This… isn't right."
The voice startled him.
It did not sound like his own.
It was younger, rough, and weak.
His heart began to race.
He tried to sit up, but pain exploded through his body. His arms trembled, and he almost fell back to the ground. When he looked down, his hands were thin and rough, covered in dirt and dried blood. His clothes were made of coarse cloth, torn and old, nothing like what he had been wearing before.
Fear rushed into his chest.
"Where am I…?"
He forced himself to look around.
Behind him stood a broken stone tower. Most of it had collapsed, leaving cracked walls and fallen stones covered with moss. The land around it was empty and quiet. Dead grass spread in every direction, and far away, dark trees formed a thick forest line.
This place felt ancient.
And dangerous.
Memories began to surface in his mind, not as pictures, but as facts he somehow already knew.
A name appeared.
Lin Yuan.
His breathing stopped for a moment.
"No… that's impossible."
Lin Yuan was not a real person.
Lin Yuan was a character.
A small, unimportant character from a web novel he had been reading before everything went black.
A side character who appeared once and then died.
A character whose death was mentioned in a single sentence.
His mind shook as more memories settled into place. This body, this land, this ruined tower—it all matched the story.
He had not been reborn into a hero.
He had transmigrated into a nobody.
"I… became Lin Yuan?"
His legs felt weak, and he had to grab a stone to stay standing.
Lin Yuan was an orphan from a border region. He worked as a porter for a small mercenary group. He had no talent, no background, and no future.
And worst of all—
He remembered how Lin Yuan died.
A cold feeling crawled up his spine.
This watchtower.
This exact place.
Lin Yuan was injured during a scouting mission. Monsters appeared, the mercenaries fled, and he was left behind.
By nightfall, he was dead.
No one came back for him.
No one even spoke his name again.
His chest tightened.
"That means…"
He looked up at the sky.
If his memory was correct, then today was the day.
The day Lin Yuan was supposed to die.
A distant sound reached his ears.
A low howl.
His blood froze.
Another howl followed, closer this time.
"Ironfang Wolves."
He whispered the name without thinking.
They were low-level monsters, common in the borderlands. Not strong compared to cultivators, but deadly to normal people. They hunted in packs and followed the smell of blood.
Slowly, he looked at his shoulder.
A deep wound stained his clothes dark red.
"So that's how it is…"
In the novel, Lin Yuan was hurt during the retreat. The mercenaries did not wait for him. By the time the wolves arrived, he could not even run.
His heart pounded.
He did not want to die here.
Not like this.
Fear tried to take over, but he forced himself to calm down. Crying would not help. Screaming would only make things worse.
He had one thing Lin Yuan never had.
Knowledge.
He remembered a small detail from the story. Something easy to miss.
This watchtower was old. Very old. It once belonged to a border army long forgotten.
Most people believed it had already been searched and looted.
But that was not fully true.
"There was… a hidden space."
His eyes moved quickly over the broken stones around the tower. He ignored the pain in his legs and limped closer, scanning the ground.
Then he saw it.
A fallen stone slab, half-covered by dirt and plants. Behind it was a narrow gap, dark and deep.
Hope flared in his chest.
He dropped to his knees and began pushing the stone aside. It was heavy, and every movement hurt, but he did not stop. His hands shook as he clawed at the dirt.
The howls were closer now.
Much closer.
His heart felt like it might burst.
Finally, the gap was just wide enough.
He squeezed his thin body through and fell into darkness.
The air inside was stale and dusty, but it was quiet. No wind. No howls.
He lay there, not daring to move, barely daring to breathe.
Above him, he heard scraping sounds. Sniffing. Low growls.
The wolves were right there.
He covered his mouth with his hand and held his breath.
Time passed slowly.
His arms went numb. His chest burned.
Then, little by little, the sounds faded.
The wolves moved away.
Only then did he dare to breathe again.
He leaned against the cold stone wall, his whole body shaking.
"I… lived?"
The words felt unreal.
This alone had already changed the story.
Lin Yuan was never meant to survive this night.
He sat in the darkness, letting his thoughts settle.
There was no system voice in his head.
No sudden power.
No miracle.
Just a weak body, a bleeding wound, and memories of a future that might no longer be correct.
He let out a quiet, bitter laugh.
"So this is my start."
A nobody hiding underground, trying not to die.
As he shifted slightly, his hand touched something solid near his leg.
He froze.
Carefully, he felt around in the dark and picked it up.
It was a small metal box.
His heart started beating fast again.
He opened it slowly.
Inside was a simple ring, dark and plain, and beneath it, a folded piece of old parchment.
His eyes widened.
This was wrong.
This item was never mentioned in the novel.
With careful fingers, he picked up the ring.
The moment it touched his skin, a faint warmth spread through his hand. It was not power, but it felt… different. As if something unseen had noticed him.
Far above, the wind blew across the plains.
And somewhere deep within this forgotten world, something that had slept for a very long time quietly stirred.