Waking up to soul-shattering pain was not a new experience for Monty. The description being literal was.

He thrashed in his bed, clawing at his body as if mad. If not for the white cotton clothing him his actions certainly would have drawn blood. Monty could not help but scream, the sheer overwhelmingness of the pain reducing all other sensations to nothing.

The world was a blur of color. Suddenly, he felt someone’s hands hold him in place. A young, female voice was shouting his name. He responded with a renewed scream as another surge of agony shook his entirety. No sooner than he had woken up, under the continuous restraint and shouting of the girl, his consciousness slipped away into nothingness.

When Monty stirred awake for the second time, an herbal aroma entered his nose. His eyes snapped open. The soft glow of a morning sun illuminated his surroundings. He sat up, supporting himself on his elbows, and looked around.

The room he was in appeared to be an old-fashioned clinic. Light wood flooring and glass jars of various plants gave him a local drug store-type feeling. He looked down at himself. The pain that plagued him just before had disappeared as if it were a dream. However, this was pushed to the back of his mind as he realized something that shook him greatly, more than anything in his life.

Monty was wondering why he felt so good. Turns out, he was no longer in his old body.

“I see,” he calmly thought, yet the corner of his lip twitched. “I’ve gone insane.”

The idea of such a thing happening to him was not something he expected. Monty had always been confident in his mental faculties. To hallucinate to such a degree - where reality and illusion became indistinguishable – should never have happened to him.

Out of habit, he sat up carefully. He found himself wearing cotton clothes, thick enough to keep the chilly breeze coming in through the open window from causing harm but thin enough to feel weightless. He didn’t remember seeing clothing like this in his wardrobe.

“More like something from ancient times.”

Sitting up fully, he found that his point of view was much lower than what he was used to. He raised his hands. They were much smaller than his own. From the size and structure, they looked like a child’s no older than thirteen. Various cuts and scars littered the tanned skin.

“Heh,” he exhaled, then froze as he realized the voice that came from his mouth matched such an age. At this point, a theory about what was happening sprouted in his mind. He immediately shut it down.

Yet a bad feeling lingered in his gut as Monty walked to the window. It was circular, with carved wood crossing the thin glass. He pulled it closed and looked at his reflection.

The face of a young boy greeted him. He had soft features, curly brown hair and eyes of a similar color. Monty pinched his cheeks, stretching them to the point of pain, then let go.

“No fucking way.”

The outside world was a vibrant mess of green, brown and grey. Trees grew upwards to the point where he couldn’t see their canopies. Between them were various humble houses, all wooden with stone foundations. Paths of packed pebbles separated the structures and Monty could see the occasional person hurrying along, dressed in leathers and cottons.

It seemed to be the morning, based on the golden mist that hovered just over the ground. Monty pulled his head from the window and instead, inspected the room. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest. Other than the bed he had been laying on, a wooden table sat on the opposite side of the room. More glass jars and vials sat on it, and a pack of what looked like long, shiny needles lay beside them.

The floor thudded as Monty dropped to his knees. He bowed over, hands on the wooden planks.

“There’s no way I’ve gone insane. I’m a perfectly sane person. I can accept reality as I see it. I can. I really, really, really don’t want to, but I can.”

“Monty?” with the creak of a door opening, a familiar female voice called his name.

Monty didn’t react, instead raising a palm up. “Hold on, I’m coming to terms with reality right now.”

To his surprise, the girl actually left without saying another word, gently closing the door. He stood up and frowned. From the looks of it, he had been transmigrated. And to a Chinese cultivation story, no less. He had finished one such novel the very night prior. Now, standing here in a different body and antique-looking acupuncture needles right before him, it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

Monty drew a breath, held it, then exhaled. It was not good to hastily draw conclusions. He could not be a hundred percent certain. Right now, it was more important to focus on the present. Given this body’s age and that he woke up in a clinic, it was likely that there were people who care for its previous owner, the girl likley being one of them. He had no idea what happened to that guy but regardless of the world, it usually wasn’t a good idea to let people to find out he possessed a kid’s body.

“Now, what to do,” Monty wondered. One thing that he noticed is that he instinctively responded to the girl in a language not his own. He had searched his memories in an attempt to find any information. To his dismay, he found nothing outside of his own. However, he noticed that when he thought, the language was no longer English but one resembling some kind of Chinese.

At least he knew how to speak. A couple theories regarding this sprouted up in Monty’s thoughts, the most likely being that his soul had merged with the soul of the body’s former owner. That would also explain the pain he had experienced, the recollection of the experience sending a tremor through him.

He shook his head. “Practice over theory.”

The room itself was not large. Monty searched around, not particularly looking for anything. Of the jars lined up on the walls, most were filled with some kind of plant or mushroom. He recognized none of them. Golden flowers with what appeared to be a buddha’s smiling face, strange mushrooms with black and white spots, a gourd that spouted some kind of sparkly, black-silver mist… an audible groan left his lips.

So much for not jumping to assumptions. Monty wasn’t exactly a botanist, but he was pretty certain these things did not exist on Earth.

After making sure that he had not missed anything else in the room, he walked to the room’s singular door and opened it, stepping out to a sunlit hallway.

He appeared to be at the passage’s very end, so he walked down it. Passing by two closed doors, Monty entered a well-lit reception room. There, two people turned to look at him. He recognized one of them.

A girl who appeared to be in her mid to late teens paced around a table. Her features resembled Monty’s greatly and a gut feeling told him this was his sister.

The other was an old man. Wearing a white robe, he sat hunched over, his aged hands clasped together on the table. A wooden cane lay by his side. Long, white hair ran down his shoulders, still thick despite his apparent age.

Seeing Monty enter the room, the girl stopped walking and cried out happily, rushing over to him.

“Monty!”

With her arms outstretched, she reached out to him. Monty, however, put on a frown and backed up cautiously.

“Who are you?” he asked. The girl appeared struck by lightning.

A shine of moisture welled up in her eyes as she said. “I’m your sister.”

Monty appeared confused. It was at this moment that the old man spoke up.

“Why don’t both of you take a seat and we can all have a calm discussion. Monty, please tell us what happened to you. Two mornings ago, you didn’t wake up and Lillian brought you here.” His voice was deep yet smooth and carried an unquestionable sense of persuasion with it. Monty was not one to argue pointlessly, so he did so, pulling a cushioned chair out.

The girl, Lillian, sniffed once, twice before doing the same. The three of them sat around the table, the air solemn. Monty wanted to ask for some water but seeing the other’s expressions, he decided against it.

His sister spoke. “Please Monty, tell me what happened. You might not remember me so just know that I’m here for you. You’re my family.”

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It took some time before Monty replied. When he did, his expression was as blank as slate. “I… don’t know. The only thing I remember is waking up and then everything hurt. Then I fell back asleep and woke up again and now I’m here.”

“Is that really all you remember?” the old man asked. Monty nodded. “Are you sure? Anything would help.”

His sister glared at the old man. “Don’t push him. Monty, its fine if you don’t remember anything, at least you’re awake. Does anything hurt?”

“Nothing does, I feel fine,” he said and she heaved a sigh of relief. “But where am I? And who am I? Who are you?”

The last question was directed to the old man. He and Lillian looked to each other. It was the former who then began to explain.

“I am Dante Elmons, the doctor here at Fletcher Village. This is my home and also my clinic. As for where we are, our village stands halfway up Mount Rilfer.”

He paused. “I can answer your second question, but I think it would be better for Lillian to do so.”

“Did any of that ring a bell?” She asked as soon as the old man finished. Monty calmly shook his head. What was going on in his mind, however, was quite the opposite of his placid expression.

“Fuck me. It’s confirmed. It’s that fucking cultivation world. I fucking knew it. I’m so dead. With the way things are going, cannon probably hasn’t even started and I’ll be a descendant of that shit head.”

Lillian sighed. “At least you’re feeling fine. Doc, can you do a final check up on him?”

The old man appeared to have more to say but in the end, remained silent. He stood up, grabbing his cane. He teetered over to Monty and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Monty’s eyes widened as a faint glow emerged from the Doctor’s hand. The glow then phased through his skin, giving him a sensation of a slow, fluid electrical shock.

“Qi! He’s a cultivator.” Monty immediately upped his guard. As their name implied, cultivators cultivated the power of Qi – a magical form of energy. Doing so allowed them to perform a variety of mystical techniques as well as receive many other benefits. Compared to mortals – those who had not stepped upon the path of cultivation – they held an incomparable amount of power that allowed even the weakest to kill with a wave of their hand.

“Relax,” the old man said, noticing Monty tense up. It was impossible to tell whether he guessed Monty’s thoughts. “It’ll take a mere minute. I’m just making sure there aren’t any lingering effects of whatever happened to you affecting your body.”

Monty nodded and sat still. He focused on the force moving through his body, familiarizing himself with it as best he could. Doing so would help when the time came for him to begin cultivating.

Just as the old man said, in less than a minute he lifted his hand off Monty’s shoulder. The Qi disappeared along with it.

“His meridians are no longer disordered. There aren’t any issues with his body,” Doctor Elmons said, his smile turning his eyes to slits. Yet again, Lillian released a sigh of relief.

“Thanks a lot,” she grinned, pushing the chair back as she stood. Monty remained sitting.

The doctor nodded. “You’re welcome. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

His sister then turned to him, saying, “C’mon Monty, let’s go home. I’m sure you’re starving. Although it’s a little early, we can have lunch. I’ll make your favorite, grilled chicken. Maybe that’ll bring back your memory.”

She gave him a brief smile and held out her hand. It was pale and without blemish. Monty grabbed it and allowed her to pull him up. With nothing left to do, Lillian paid the old man and said her goodbyes before stepping outside.

The sun was nearing its highest point in the sky. Monty stood at the building’s doorstep, his gaze distant. Green foliage blocked the majority of the sunlight, casting a collage of shadows over the ground.

“Monty?” Lillian said, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“I’m fine.”

His sister nodded but seemed unconvinced. However, she stepped forward and began to lead the way to their house.

Given its location, Fletcher Village was a hodgepodge of scattered buildings, all at different elevations. The Doctor’s house stood roughly in the center of the settlement. From it, houses, stores, and a pub among other structures all formed rough arcs along the eastern face of the mountain.

Monty and Lillian headed down a stone brick-paved road. Few people passed them, the majority away making money or food. A few children even younger than Monty screamed and laughed as they ran around.

During their walk, Lillian taught Monty all about the area. Whatever questions he asked, she answered with clear, understandable explanations.

Ten minutes passed like this and they neared the base of the mountain. The road had long faded to trodden dirt as Lillian led Monty through increasingly obscure paths. At some point, the traces of human influence disappeared, making way for untamed wilderness.

It was there that a circular clearing was cut out. In that clearing, an old but well-built cottage stood. Despite a couple vines crawling up its walls, the wood appeared in good condition. It was obvious someone maintained it regularly.

“Welcome home, Monty.”

Stepping inside, the interior was much like what he expected. It was mostly wooden much like the Doctor’s house. The floor was laid with cut stone, giving the structure an unshakable feeling.

Unsurprisingly, the furniture was also wood. A table and four chairs stood in the center of the room. Opposing the door, a brick fireplace hugged the wall. Lillian walked up to it and took a matchbox from atop it. She pulled out a match – one much larger than its modern equivalent and with a black coating - and struck it, lighting up the fireplace.

“Why don’t you look around for now?” she suggested as the fire began to crack, smoke spiraling out through the chimney. “I’ll start preparing lunch. You can also go outside if you want, just don’t go too far.”

Monty nodded his head weakly. The cottage was not large. Other than the living room that contained the kitchen, fireplace, table and a few cabinets, two bedrooms stood on the sides of branching hallway. Small windows allowed thin sunbeams to light up the interior.

He did not pay any attention to these details. Monty did not even consider going outside, instead entering the hallway and opening the door on the left. This was his room. He entered it and the door softly shut behind him.

Twenty minutes later, when his sister called his name, he left the room and sat at the table wordlessly. The hunger-provoking aroma of grilled chicken entered his nose, but did little to stir his appetite.

Lillian looked at him with the worry evident in her eyes. For some reason, his mood had stilled to what it was now during their walk. During their talks. Noticing the change, she had asked him if she could do anything for him but Monty had simply shaken his head. It seemed like losing his memory affected him greatly.

She forced a smile and said, “Well, before I forget, we have to give thanks to our ancestor, the Silver Moon Sovereign. I mentioned him a little earlier, but a lot of the reason we can live here is because of his efforts is conquering this land for us.”

After she finished speaking, a deafening silence enveloped the room. Finally, Lillian couldn’t keep a smile on her face anymore. Just as she was about to stand and interrogate Monty until he told her what had affected him so much, the boy’s shoulders began to tremble.

Then, under her astounded gaze, tears flowed down his cheeks.

Monty pressed his palms to his eyes and began sobbing. The words Lillian was about to say got caught in her throat. All thoughts of questioning were pushed aside. She got up and moved to Monty, bringing him into a close embrace.

She had no idea what was going on. Her brother had lost his memories. While at the doctors, he appeared fine. He became like this while talking to her. She could not help but blame herself, despite not knowing what she did, if it was what she did.

“It’s alright, everything’ll be fine,” Lillian whispered, holding a shaking Monty. He calmed down under her words. She felt him nod and a smile returned to her face. “Let’s eat before the food gets cold. Then, we’ll see from there.”

Monty bit his lip and hummed in agreement. They ate in silence, yet it was far more comfortable than it had been.

It was Monty who finished his food first. Lillian finished shortly after, wiping her mouth with a cloth. She exhaled with satisfaction, saying, “Ahh, that was good. The cook must really be talented.”

Monty barked a laughed but quickly covered his mouth. His sister also chuckled. “See? You’re already feeling better. Maybe I should start a restaurant.”

“It wasn’t that good,” Monty mumbled and Lillian widened her eyes, her hand over her chest. She cried out, “Betrayed by my only family!”

However, her voice took a more serious note with her next words. “Monty, you don’t have to tell me what you’re feeling right now, but I hope you will. I can’t imagine how I would feel if I suddenly lost all my memories, my experiences. I might not be able to do anything for you. However, I will always be here for you. You are my last living family; you can always talk to me.”

Monty listened to what Lillian said and felt a pang pity. Perhaps her words would have moved him had he actually lost his memories, but as he had likely destroyed her brother’s soul, the more she cared for him, the worse off Monty would be if she found out the truth.

Every additional word she said sent another blow to him. Hearing her say that he was her last family was the nail in the coffin.

“I’ll have to get rid of her.”

However, this problem, despite its severity, was not a concern of Monty’s at the moment. It took up a mere thought before being pushed away. Rather, it was what he learned during their walk that impacted him so heavily that he could not hide its effect on him.

He had found out that, in fact – just as he had hoped not to be the case - he was a descendant of that fucking guy. That fucking guy, of course, being the Silver Moon Sovereign.

This was very bad. So bad that Monty had immediately asked for the date. Lillian had been slightly puzzled by his reaction but answered anyway.

It was the 3999th year of the Gilded Calander and there were three months to the New Year.

This was worse that very bad. It was terrible. Monty was not someone who panicked or was even emotionally moved easily. Within minutes of waking up to this world he had already calmed down. Yet, when he heard those words leave her mouth, they had directly slammed into his mind as if thunder had struck him, leaving him unable to move at the time.

It was not that he chose not to hide it; the thought of doing so had not even crossed his mind. After all, it would be difficult for most people to remain unmoved upon finding out they were going to die in three months.