Volume One: Turbulence in a Small Town Chapter Two: I Must Be a Genius

"Young master, young master, please wake up, don't scare Xiaohong, wu wu wu," a girl's voice, tinged with tears, echoed beside Zhang Heng's ear.

Is this the voice of a fairy? How beautiful, Zhang Heng thought.

Could it be that I've died and arrived in the realm of immortals?

"Young master, young master." The girl's calls continued.

Summoning his willpower, Zhang Heng slowly forced his eyes open. The first thing he saw was a youthful face, about fifteen or sixteen years old. She wasn't a peerless beauty, but her features were pleasant and gentle.

At that moment, the girl looked deeply anxious.

It seems television dramas are unreliable after all, he mused. They say a fairy's mere glance can make all men fall for her—clearly an exaggeration.

"Young master, you're finally awake. You scared me half to death," the girl said with relief and delight. But Zhang Heng was in no mood to respond.

Pain—searing, unbearable pain—ripped through his body, as if his brain was about to explode. Even with his strong will, Zhang Heng couldn't help but cry out, "Ah, it hurts so much!"

I've already died, so why the hell am I still in pain?

"Young master, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell somewhere?" Seeing Zhang Heng's suffering, the girl grew frantic, tears shimmering in her eyes.

"Come, young master, let's go home," she said resolutely, standing up and, after weaving through the curious crowd, helped Zhang Heng toward the Zhang family residence.

Half a quarter of an hour later, Zhang Heng sat on a bed, watching the composed girl holding a bowl of medicine in the distance. At last, things began to make sense.

He hadn't died—he had crossed over.

Yes, he'd transmigrated.

What? Such a cliché plot actually happened to me?

No wonder the pain was so intense just now—it turns out I didn't die after all. Zhang Heng had read plenty of silly web novels, so the idea of transmigration wasn't something he couldn't accept.

Perhaps Heaven, pitying his difficult and unlucky life, had taken mercy and offered him a new path.

Once he was sure he had truly transmigrated, Zhang Heng began to examine the delicate girl before him and the sparse furnishings of the room.

The walls, tables, and chairs were all made of wood.

The room was extremely simple—almost bare. Besides the small bed he sat on, there was only a wooden table, four chairs, and a few basic items.

Still, it was fairly clean and orderly.

A quick glance was enough for Zhang Heng to be certain that he had arrived in ancient times.

Not bad. Though life here couldn't compare to modern comforts, at least he was alive.

Clearing his throat, Zhang Heng turned to the girl and asked, "Your name is Xiaohong, isn't it?"

He vaguely recalled, when he'd been lying on the ground, this maid who called him young master had referred to herself as Xiaohong.

Xiaohong was startled—wasn't that a question with an obvious answer? Still, a servant must respond. "Yes, young master, my name is Xiaohong."

After a moment's hesitation, she added with a puzzled tone, "Is there anything you wish, young master?"

Zhang Heng continued, "Xiaohong, what dynasty is it now?"

What dynasty? Now it was Xiaohong's turn to be confused.

Noticing her uncertainty, Zhang Heng rephrased, "I mean, what's the name of this kingdom?"

"Oh, young master wants to know which country we belong to? Our Liunan City is the southernmost city of the Liu Kingdom, with just over a hundred thousand people," Xiaohong replied, finally understanding.

Zhang Heng couldn't help but laugh at her answer. The Liu Kingdom—he couldn't recall a dynasty by that name. But since he was here, he might as well embrace it. What dynasty it was hardly mattered.

Still, the idea that the southernmost city was called "Liunan City" was amusing. By that logic, the northern city must be "Liubei City," and the eastern one "Liudong City."

"Wait, that's not right, young master. You may be a little slow sometimes, but you can't possibly forget which country you're from. Could it be that scoundrel Liu Yuan beat you silly?" the girl suddenly burst into tears, as if something had occurred to her.

"Wu wu wu, young master, you're so pitiful—frail and sickly since childhood, beset by misfortune, and now even struck dumb. Fate is truly cruel."

Forcing a smile, she added, "But don't worry, young master. I'll take good care of you."

Hearing this, Zhang Heng was exasperated. Is this girl a little off in the head?

"What are you saying? I'm not an idiot—I just can't recall some things at the moment. Give it a few days and I'll be fine."

"That's good. You must be hungry, young master. I'll go make you something to eat." Saying this, Xiaohong prepared to leave.

"Wait a moment," Zhang Heng suddenly thought of something.

"You said I'm frail and sickly? Does that mean I'm about to die?"

In his previous life, he had been weak and sickly—and then he died.

At these words, Xiaohong stumbled, nearly falling.

She replied, "Young master, you're only weak. If you take more tonic pills, you'll be fine. You won't die."

But inside, she thought, It's over. Young master really has been beaten stupid.

Hearing he wouldn't die, Zhang Heng finally relaxed. As long as he wouldn't die, it was fine. Damn, if I died as soon as I transmigrated, how would that make any sense? This time, if he died, perhaps it would be real and final—surely there wouldn't be a second transmigration.

"Wait again. Did you just say 'pills'?" Seeing the girl about to leave, Zhang Heng quickly reached out.

It wasn't his fault—other transmigrators would usually inherit the host body's memories, but his mind was a complete blank.

"Yes, first-tier Clear Mind Pills and second-tier Clear Mind Pills can both help you recover, but since you have no contributions to the family, the patriarch won't grant you any," Xiaohong replied.

Pills! Haha! According to all the web novels he'd devoured, this must be a world of cultivation, where the strong can soar through the air, slay enemies from a thousand miles away, and do anything they please.

Heh heh, as a transmigrator, he must be the chosen one, the son of destiny, progressing dozens or even hundreds of times faster than ordinary folk.

He was set—soon he would crush the sons of heaven, encounter saintesses, and reach the pinnacle of life.

Standing at the door, Xiaohong saw her young master grinning foolishly on the bed. She thought, It's over. Young master really has lost his mind.

But suddenly, Zhang Heng stopped smiling and asked in a grave tone, "Xiaohong, answer me—is this a world where people can cultivate, or train in martial arts?"

"Of course, young master. I'm already at the third stage of body training," Xiaohong replied proudly.

After a slight pause, she added, "Don't worry, young master. Even if you've lost your memory, I'll tell you everything bit by bit. You'll recover soon enough." She even smiled at Zhang Heng, both to encourage him and to bolster her own spirits.

Hearing this confirmation, Zhang Heng couldn't help but leap up in joy—forgetting his injuries, which sent a fresh wave of pain through him, making him grimace and bare his teeth.

After recovering, Zhang Heng nodded and grinned, half to Xiaohong and half to himself, "Then I must be a prodigy."

While he was lost in his fantasies, Xiaohong poured a bucket of cold water on his daydream.

"Young master, you can't even beat me. If you're a prodigy, then I must be the saintess of the Holy Land."