Chapter 1: Trapped in the Prison Cell

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“Damn, where is this place? How did I end up here?” In a dimly lit room, Fang Xian had just awakened to find himself lying in a heap of filthy, foul-smelling straw.

Startled, he quickly surveyed his surroundings. The room was barely ten square meters, with nothing but a fist-sized hole in the wall letting in the faintest glimmer of light.

Directly ahead was a row of wooden bars, beyond which stretched a corridor. A distant glow filtered down the passage, but not a sound disturbed the silence.

This was unmistakably a prison cell.

Fang Xian walked to the bars and peered out. Across and to either side were more identical cells, each holding people sprawled on their own straw piles, still asleep.

Just then, a sharp pain stabbed through Fang Xian’s head, followed by a surge of foreign memories. To his shock, he realized he had crossed over into another world—and the body he now inhabited was also named Fang Xian.

From the memories of his predecessor, Fang Xian learned that this was an age of turmoil, with five warring kingdoms vying for supremacy. Society resembled that of late Tang, and he himself was a citizen of Wu, one of the five.

His predecessor hailed from Kaiyang County in Wu. His father had been the village tutor and barefoot doctor, so Fang Xian had received some education and picked up a bit of medical knowledge as a boy.

But a year ago, bandits raided his village. His entire family was killed; only he survived, having escaped into the mountains to gather herbs.

From then on, the original Fang Xian devoted himself to study, passing the county and provincial exams, and was set to travel to Wudu for the imperial examination in the autumn.

He had joined a party of merchants traveling from Kaiyang to Wudu to prepare for the exam, but was attacked by bandits along the way. In his flight, he tumbled down a hillside and nearly died, providing the opportunity for Fang Xian’s soul to cross over and inhabit this body.

“So I’ve transmigrated… but now I’ve been captured by bandits. Am I going to die in the first episode?” Fang Xian now understood his predicament, and the era he found himself in.

“Congratulations, Host, you have bound the Eminent Figures System. Please use positive influence on others to unlock system assistance and survive this chaotic age. You have received a Novice Gift Pack. Please explore the system’s functions.”

As Fang Xian sat against the wall, pondering how to survive, a voice suddenly rang out in his mind, making him start.

“A system. So transmigrators really do get perks. But what is this Eminent Figures System?” Fang Xian’s spirits lifted. With a cheat like this, why fear an early demise?

A panel appeared before his eyes, displaying: Host: Fang Xian, styled Mingda. Possessions: Gift Pack (1).

And that was it.

“Seriously? Is that all? This system looks pretty bare-bones.” Fang Xian was a little stunned, feeling the system might not be as reliable as he’d hoped. Anxious, he began to worry.

Initially, discovering he’d transmigrated into a chaotic era with a system, Fang Xian had been eager to make his mark. But seeing how unreliable the system appeared, he wondered if he’d been too optimistic.

Muttering inwardly, he went to check his gift pack—only to find it held nothing but a slip of paper, on which was written: “Reward: The item you need most.”

What did he need most now? Something to help him escape the bandits, certainly. But what could possibly accomplish that?

He hesitated, tempted to wish for a Desert Eagle with infinite bullets, but the system immediately informed him, “Advanced firearms are not permitted in this world.”

From his predecessor’s memories, Fang Xian also learned that this world had martial experts of great power; he’d even witnessed three men fighting in mid-air. Even if he escaped his cell, how could he possibly flee the stronghold?

So Fang Xian didn’t make a decision at once. He decided to wait, see what the bandits planned for him, and if necessary, choose a legendary weapon to offer them in hopes of sparing his life.

...

“Something’s wrong! The old chieftain is coughing up blood again.”

“Hurry, call for Master Liu!”

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“Young master, the old chief is coughing up black blood!”

At that moment, atop Mount Azurecloud a kilometer from Fang Xian, stood a large compound. In the central building, a bustle of people streamed in and out, surrounding an old man lying on a bed.

“Father, how are you feeling?” asked a young woman, barely eighteen, dressed in martial garb with a red cloak and a sword at her waist. Her face was marked by worry, but her bearing remained proud and spirited.

“Brother, even your internal strength cannot suppress the poison? Master Liu, can you prepare an antidote?” A red-haired elder in his fifties also spoke anxiously.

The old man on the bed, similarly in his fifties and garbed in green, had once keen eyes now dulled. Dark stains mottled the backs of his hands—a sign of poisoning.

At the bedside sat a silver-haired old doctor with a medicine chest. After feeling the old chief’s pulse, he shook his head with a troubled sigh.

“Second chief, the old chief has been poisoned by a rare and virulent toxin. Even with a master’s cultivation, he can endure no more than three days before the poison reaches his heart. I cannot identify the toxin and dare not concoct a random antidote. Only a precise cure will do, else the poison may worsen.

“Young mistress, forgive my incompetence. The rest is up to fate.” Master Liu was the mountain stronghold’s physician, but even he was helpless.

“Boxiong, Hongxiu, don’t worry about me. Keep the stronghold stable. If I cannot hold on, you can seek refuge with Zhu Jiu of South Li Stronghold—let Azurecloud become its vassal, and you will live.” The green-robed elder, Ye Qingyun, opened his eyes to address the two people dearest to him: Zhou Boxiong, his junior brother, and Ye Hongxiu, his daughter.

“Brother, you will be fine,” Zhou Boxiong’s eyes were wet, but his worry was undiminished. Without Ye Qingyun, a master of the transformation realm, Azurecloud would lose its standing among the five great strongholds and risk being swallowed by rivals.

“Father, I’ll send men down the mountain to find a physician. Whoever saves you, I will marry them.” Ye Hongxiu wiped her tears and spoke with iron resolve, then left to arrange the search.

“Silly girl. Boxiong, since your sister-in-law passed, Hongxiu has lacked a mother’s guidance and grown headstrong. Please look after her and find her a good match someday.” Ye Qingyun sighed.

Soon, dozens of riders sped down the mountain, seeking doctors in the surrounding countryside. The entire stronghold buzzed with talk of Hongxiu’s promise—would anyone be lucky enough?

Azurecloud had some three thousand people, of whom thirteen hundred were able-bodied men and women. The elderly and children made up the rest, but all who could fight did—even the women.

In these turbulent times, not only did the five kingdoms—Wu, Xia, Liang, Zhou, and Man—wage constant war, but martial sects and bandit gangs abounded. Martial arts thrived; most people practiced basic techniques, if only to strengthen themselves, so even women could wield weapons in battle.

“Second chief, I know some medicine—perhaps I can treat the chief.”

“Young mistress, I have a remedy—may I try?”

“Let me! The young mistress will be mine!”

“Step aside! My home remedy will surely cure the chief.”

Thus, word of Hongxiu’s vow spread, and many flocked to the chief’s bedside, hoping for a chance at fortune—or marriage. In truth, few had any real medical knowledge; most wanted to try their luck.

Ye Hongxiu, just sixteen, was already a second-rank martial artist. If one were fortunate enough to marry her, it would be a meteoric rise within the stronghold.

“Hongxiu, you can’t joke about your marriage! With all this commotion, how will your father rest?” Zhou Boxiong protested.

“Uncle, if someone can truly save my father, they will be the stronghold’s benefactor. Why shouldn’t I marry them?

“Everyone listen: if you wish to treat my father, first drink this cup of poisoned wine and find a way to detoxify yourself. Only then will you have the right to treat my father—otherwise, you’ll join him in the grave.”

Though troubled, Hongxiu quickly found a solution: let contenders detoxify themselves first, to prove their skill.

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At these words, most slunk away. They had no true knowledge of poisons; they were only here for a chance. But to drink poisoned wine first—who would dare? A single sip might send them to the grave.

...

Clang!

By the time the sun was high, Fang Xian had only just dozed off when the sound jolted him awake. The prison grew restless and noisy.

“Hero, why are you keeping us here?”

“We’re just passing merchants, not criminals!”

“Let me out!”

Fang Xian listened quietly—and from the hubbub, realized there were dozens imprisoned here.

“Shut up! It’s because of you that our old chief was poisoned. Anyone who makes another sound will be dragged out and executed!” a booming voice thundered, at once silencing the crowd.

“Behave! If our old chief dies, you’ll all be buried with him!” the voice continued. Meanwhile, someone brought food to each cell.

Fang Xian, rubbing his eyes, was struck by a sudden idea for saving his life. He quietly summoned the system panel and selected items related to detoxification.

Two options appeared: the Codex of Poisons, and the Universal Antidote Pill. The Codex encompassed all manner of poisons and cures; the Antidote Pill could neutralize any poison under heaven.

“If I choose the Antidote Pill, I can detoxify the old chief and save myself, but it’ll be useless to me afterward. Better the Codex of Poisons—I’ll have another way to stay alive in the future.” After a brief deliberation, Fang Xian chose the Codex.

A thread-bound volume appeared in his hands, its cover inscribed with “Codex of Poisons.” No sooner had he opened it than it dissolved into a ray of light and entered his brow.

In an instant, Fang Xian’s mind was flooded with knowledge: the types of poisons, toxic herbs, venoms, poisonous creatures, methods of using and neutralizing poisons. In just a few breaths, he went from novice to master—now, even common plants could become deadly weapons in his hands.

Clang.

At that moment, a mountain bandit in light armor set a bowl before Fang Xian’s cell. Inside was a single blackened bun.

“Good sir, do you know what poison afflicts your chief? I am skilled in medicine and can cure him,” Fang Xian said, eyeing the bun with no interest as he addressed the departing guard.

“You too? Think you’ll marry our young mistress? Keep dreaming!” the guard rolled his eyes in disdain.

“I only wish to cure your chief. What does that have to do with marrying your young mistress? Don’t you want him healed?” Fang Xian raised his voice.

“What’s all this noise?” A towering man strode over.

“Boss, this scholar claims he can cure the chief. I say he’s just heard the young mistress’s promise and is dreaming,” the guard said quickly.

“Hmph, ignore him. If he makes another fuss, drag him out and give him a good beating.” The man snorted and walked off.

Fang Xian knew better than to push his luck. Instead, he picked up the rock-hard bun, broke off a bit, and began to chew.

It was coarse, bitter, and nearly inedible. Though Fang Xian wanted to spit it out, he forced himself to chew and swallow—to preserve his strength, if nothing else.