After Monty calmed down, Lillian pulled out the seat beside him. The two of them now sat next to each other. Drawing a deep but shaky breath, he lowered his gaze as if unwilling to meet hers. Seeing him like this, his sister reached forward and cupped his hands with her own.

“Please tell me what's bothering you. I want to do whatever I can.”

Monty looked up, looked away, bit his lip, and then began to spout out his feelings as if they had been a bubble ready to burst.

“I- I don’t know. I can’t remember anything like what happened yesterday, but I just know things like how to talk. I thought I would be fine, but I guess the more you told me – about everything – the more I just felt bad that I lost so many memories.”

He inhaled. “I just wish I didn’t lose my memories.”

Lillian smiled sadly and went silent for a full minute before saying. “Thank you for telling me. I really wish I could do something, but I don’t think there is anything I can do to get your memories back.”

“However,” she continued, her smile brightening. “We can always make new memories, right? As long as you’re alive, there’s hope for a better future.”

Even though Monty felt stupid doing so, he widened his eyes as if the idea had never occurred to him. He was, after all, a kid- and an amnesic at that. It was one thing to be sad and another to get over it by himself. Or at least, that’s what he thought.

As soon as his eyelids opened, they lowered once again. “Yeah, I guess,” he said, though it was obvious he was not convinced.

Lillian sighed and did not continue the topic. “Let’s finish before the food gets cold.”

Monty nodded. The food was good. Grilled chicken with herbal seasoning and a side of rice, the aroma sent a pang of hunger into his stomach. According to Lillian, he’d been asleep for an additional two days after waking up that painful morning.

After their meal, Lillian left the house to work. She had cleaned up the table and rinsed the dishes herself. After making sure he would be fine, she said her goodbyes and stepped out, carrying a bow, arrows, and pack over her shoulder. From the few animal heads hung up on the walls, she didn’t have to tell Monty what her work was for him to know.

Now that he was left alone in the cottage, he had time solely to himself. Since waking up, Monty had been under constant pressure. First, he experienced that soul-crushing pain before realizing he had been transmigrated into a novel. From there, there situation had only gotten worse the more he learned.

Monty released a deep breath. Having entered his room, he lay down on his bed only to find the pillow wooden and mattress no more than a thick blanket.

“Fuck.”

He pushed his palms into his temples. Monty was not used to acting, especially in such a high-stakes environment. A migraine pounded the inside of his skull. He groaned, turning around in what little space he had.

Eventually, the throbbing in his head faded to a dull ache. He slowly pushed himself up to a sitting position. With his feet on the ground, he supported his chin with both hands. His expression was ugly, dark lines creasing his forehead.

“I gotta take a shit so bad.”

Out of all the things he had asked Lillian, what or where the bathroom was one thing that had slipped his mind. It obviously wasn’t inside the cottage and coming here he hadn’t seen any outhouse or the like.

Now, he was left with one option. Monty got up quickly, leaving his room and then the cottage as if chased by something. Exiting the building, his head whipped back and forth. Nothing. Trees surrounded him, providing little comfort for his mind and guts.

Monty half-jogged west. Given that he had not seen anything of use in the direction he came from, his only hope lay behind the house and, whether luckily or unluckily, the sound of flowing water entered his ears as he turned the corner.

Standing before the thin but strong stream, Monty wanted to cry for the second time that day. The glassy water gushed from far above him and down into the forest. Given how separated the property was from the rest of the village, it was likely that this stream was exclusive to Lillian and him, but the it still pained him to think of the future.

“I’m going to have to live like this until I find a way out. Or at least, until I no longer need to eat.”

That said, what had to be done had to be done. Ten minutes later, Monty walked back to the house with a line of sweat on his forehead. However, his stride carried a newfound determination with it. He entered his room and closed the door behind him before sitting on his bed, legs crossed and hands in his lap, creating a circle.

With his eyes shut and body comfortable, Monty began his first attempt at cultivation.

In this world, man was born of heaven and earth. Thus, all that was needed to be done to absorb atmospheric Qi and become a cultivator was to breath in the world’s air and use one’s mental strength to circulate the Qi that resulting from breathing.

There was no need for any techniques dedicated to absorbing Qi, though they existed for a different purpose. What separated those who could cultivate from those who could not was the existence of meridians. Like a set of veins, they enabled a cultivator to contact and circulate Qi throughout their body, forming the very basis for everything that came after.

No one was born with meridians. Usually, they formed naturally due the accumulation of Qi in the body between the ages of ten to twelve. However, due to the thin density of Qi in this place, it was likely that the average age was higher here. Monty was not even sure if he had meridians at this moment given this body’s age.

Inhaling and exhaling methodically, he attempted to sense the existence of the mystical energy. Time passed. Minutes turned to hours as the sun slowly neared the horizon and people made their way back to their homes. At this time, his eyes opened.

Monty released a disappointed sigh. Unfortunately, he had not managed to detect Qi. And now, he could no longer afford to spend time cultivating. Not only world Lillian be coming back soon, he had other priorities to focus on.

Opening his eyes, Monty was greeted to a deep orange light filtering into his room. He stood up and stretched. The action provoked a groan out of him. Sitting still for hours was obviously something this body was not used to.

Although he had not sensed anything this time, it was not unexpected. In the future he would only be spending more and more time sitting alone in a room cultivating. It was best to make a habit of it now. Taking a glance at his bare-boned room, Monty lay back down and put his hands behind his head, deep in thought.

He soon heard the front door open as Lillain returned. “Monty!” she shouted, and he left his room, greeting her with a smile. Looking at his sister, the bag she left with was much larger while the quiver on her waist was nearly empty. A new layer of dirt lined her shoes. She placed the pack down on the table with a thud before pulling out a chair and slumping into it.

Seeing this, Monty asked, “Do you want me to help with anything?”

“There’s no need,” Lillian replied. “Or… for now, I guess. I’ll have to teach you chores, and cooking, and a bunch of other things eventually.”

The last part was almost said to herself. It looked like going out had not really helped her sort things out.

Monty nodded seriously. It was not a surprise. His sister was sixteen, after all and while he did not know the exact circumstances, she had taken care of him for the past nine years, since he was four.

With his response, Lillian got up. “I’m going to go wash myself and change. We need new water as well, so I’ll get that while I’m at it.”

Saying so, she opened the door to her room and entered. However, before she could close it Monty urgently asked, “Where is the bathroom?”

Lillian looked at him and slapped her forehead. “That’s right. I’m so sorry Monty. You can go just south of here and there’ll be an outhouse.”

Saying so, she picked up some clean clothes and exited the cottage, leaving Monty with conflicted feelings.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Most villagers headed to bed when the sun set as daylight was precious and candles were expensive. Even if they had the coinage to buy candles, they would have to wait for a merchant caravan selling them to pass through the village.

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After saying goodnight to his sister, Monty closed the door to the room. There was a latch but he left it unlocked. It would be better to show such a habit.

The full moon shone brightly, lighting up his room despite the small window. Seeing it, Monty’s expression grew grim. Two full moons after this one, the date of his death was set, unless he did something about it.

Luckily, Monty was not one to simply roll over and die. He gave the moon a final glance before heading to bed. Tomorrow was an early morning.

Over the next week, Monty fell into a daily rhythm. After waking up and freshening himself up, he and Lillian would eat. Chores were taken care of afterwards. Every couple days, she left to hunt in the afternoon, returning around sunset. While she was gone, Monty would spend his time cultivating as well as making preparations for the future.

One thing he specifically focused on was reviewing any important information he could remember. His memory was not perfect and keeping track of important plot points, areas, characters, et cetera was perhaps the most important thing after cultivation.

The days went by like so. Monty learned quickly, completing any task Lillian left for him with adeptness, much to her delight. His sister had also spent more time with him, not that he had any prior experience to compare the change too. This, while taking away time that could have been spent planning, allowed him to gain a more in-depth understanding of the world through their conversations.

Other than Lillian, Monty rarely saw other people. Besides the occasional checkup at the Doctor’s, he remained in or near the cottage. However, this changed nearly two weeks after his waking up in this world. That day, when Lillian came back from purchasing supplies from the store, she appeared excited, a large smile splitting her face.

“What happened?” Monty asked as he helped put away the items.

Lillian placed a new box of matches atop the fireplace. “A caravan will be coming in two days. It’s about time too, the general store is running out of things and there’s a bunch of stuff I need to buy.”

Hearing this, Monty also became excited. He had long since heard about merchant caravans and was looking forward to the appearance of one. Traveling between mountains carried a great deal of risk as beasts and bandits prowled the lands. Even cultivators could not guarantee their safety. Thus, these caravans were one of the only sources of outside interaction.

These two weeks allowed Monty to learn a great deal about the village. However, his knowledge of the outside world remained limited to what he knew from the story. The first chapter started in the year 4000 but it really began the year 4002. This was a good opportunity to find out the general situation at this time, as well as purchase some necessities he would need for the future.

Two days later, just as Lillian said, the caravan arrived.

The village was rowdy today. The head, an old man with sharp features and a thick, white beard, led the greeting procession himself. Monty followed along in the crowd, feeling some expectation in his heart. Hopefully, what he wanted would be here.

The merchant group set up just above the base of the mountain, in a large clearing between the endless trees. Shoddy stalls were set up in record times. Soon, a buzz filled the area, people and animals alike shouting as trades were made, leaving some satisfied and others not.

Monty walked slowly, Lillian beside him. She was holding a leather bag that contained her savings. The coins inside jingled lightly. As people milled around them, they toured the various stalls. Tools, clothing, spices, and many other commodities were on display, making for a colorful and chaotic picture.

None of these things interested him. Lillian also browsed these goods indifferently for the most part. However, she did point out things that she thought Monty would find interesting. His response was always negative.

“Is there anything you want?” she eventually asked as they passed a large stall with blades of all sorts shining in the sunlight. Many young men swarmed around the shop, pointing and discussing their would-be achievements if they had that sword or this spear.

Monty looking at the stall and shook his head without needing to think about it. He had never fought another person in his life. Buying some sort of weapon would be like giving a hunter a calculator.

“Not really,” he said, moving on to the next stall. However, after giving it some thought, he changed his stance. “Actually, I want to get some scrolls so I can learn to read.”

Lillian raised her eyebrows. He explained. “I lost so many memories; I want to make up for them. Learning through reading will help a lot.”

His sister nodded with a smile at this. “It’s good that you think that way. I wasn’t going to teach you how to read yet, but I wouldn’t mind starting now. It is never a bad thing to learn the characters, at least.”

Just as they were going to head to a stall that sold scrolls, a woman shouted from behind them, “Thief!”

Monty was not interested in any robbery, so he did not turn around. However, he heard Lillian shout just as someone ran into him, sending him sprawling onto the dirt.

A cloud of dust was kicked up by his fall. Though Monty managed to avoid eating the ground, his elbows were injured, taking seconds before blood started leaking and mixing with the dirt and pebbles.

The thief was stunned as well and just as he turned to sprint off, Lillian grabbed his shoulder with a grip of iron.

Her expression a slate, she said, “Just where do you think you’re going, Flea.”

Flea, a kid no older than Monty, visibly paled at the sight of her. Lillian snorted and then went to help Monty up. He had already gotten to a crouch when she pulled his arm up, setting him to his feet.

Just then, the woman who had shouted earlier caught up. She wore a brown-grey cloak that hid her appearance. From beneath her hood, silver eyes stared daggers at Flea and the black satchel in his grip. A small crowd had gathered as well, drawn in by the commotion and shouting.

“This is yours?” Lillian asked the woman, holding Flea forward and the bag in turn. The woman nodded, thanking her.

Lillian then turned to Flea and frowned. “Well, are you going to apologize?”

Under such a gaze, as well as the surrounding crowd, Flea lowered his head, mumbling a sorry. The woman, not seeming to care for the apology or the attention, quickly left without saying anything else.

Seeing the situation resolve smoothly, the crowd dissipated. The hubbub of the market returned as if nothing happened.

Flea looked up to Lillian only to find that her gaze had not left him.

“Well?”

The kid turned to Monty in an exaggerated motion.

“I’m sorry.”

Monty felt he could have at least pretended to be sincere, given the way Lillian stared at him. This feeling was correct as without warning, she raised her hand and brought it down, slapping Flea.

He brought his palm to a reddening cheek, stunned.

Lillian nearly spat as she said, “Your act might get a pass from your father but don’t think for a moment you can fuck with me or Monty and keep that attitude.”

Flea stood frozen. However, another hand suddenly held his shoulder. Unlike Lillian’s vice-like grip, the strength within it was gentle.

Monty frowned as he said, “Theres no need to go that far, Lillian. He already apologized.”

His sister flinched, asking in disbelief, “But-”.

She caught herself and took a deep breath. Sending a final glare at the kid, she turned to Monty. “It’s up to you, but there is no need to be kind to thieves like him.”

Monty shook his head. “There’s no need to be so harsh either.”

Lillian simply sighed at that before a smile found its way to her face. “You know, you’ve become a lot more levelheaded than before.”

“Really?” Monty questioned, in thought. She nodded. “Yeah, before you probably already be fighting him- and winning at that.”

Monty snorted in amusement before turning to Flea. “You okay?”

Flea looked at him strangely and nodded slowly. Monty smiled and gave a nod in return before saying to Lillian, “Let’s go.”

From then on, nothing untold happened. Monty and Lillian toured the stalls, the former not taking more than a few glances at the countless wares. Lillian, however, managed to find some of what she was looking for, mainly soap and a well-woven mat amongst other things.

As the sun reached its midday heights, they stopped and bought some kebabs from a friendly stall. The crowd had thinned significantly, most going back to their homes for lunch or simply having finished their browsing for the day.

Arriving at one of the final stalls in the loop, Monty and Lillian paused. The wares were far more miscellaneous than many others, from quills to strange materials to various scrolls.

“Why don’t I pick something simple for you to get started with,” Lillian suggested, leaning in to get a closer look.

“That would be great,” Monty said as he studied the scrolls. Unlike the books he was used to, these did not have any cover to display a hint as to their contents. He really had to learn to read, and soon at that.

Noticing their interest, the shopkeeper wafted over. He was a thin and stringy man with his bread graying at the skin. His face appeared rather sinister, prompting a scowl from Lillian.

He rubbed his hands together, asking, “Is there anything I can get for you?”

Lillian nodded and mentioned a few of the thinner scrolls. “Do you have anything that helps with learning to write?”

“I do, I do,” the shopkeeper answered. “Quill and ink, very cheap - only ten coppers.”

The two of them then descended into a harsh bartering, deciding the price of the scrolls as well as the inks and quills that Monty would need for practice. He had just wanted to learn to read, but apparently writing was a necessity as well, not that he disagreed.

“Damned old man,” Lillian muttered to herself after they left, nearly fifteen minutes later. Monty held an armful of learning materials as they made their way back home, a meaningful glint hidden within his brown eyes.

After arriving back at the cottage, Lillian immediately began teaching Monty under his persuasion. The two of them sat side-by-side, and the tutelage continued late into the night.

* * *

As the moon rose overhead, a woman carrying a black satchel softly knocked on the door to Doctor Elmon’s clinic. Her appearance was highlighted by the soft moonlight. If Monty was here, he would recognize her as the woman whose bag was stolen by Flea earlier that day. She heard the shuffling of footsteps from inside before the door creaked open.

“Did anyone see you?” Dante Elmons asked as he quickly moved aside, letting her in. The woman frowned at the question.

“Do you believe I would let myself get discovered?”

The old man chuckled awkwardly. “Of course not, I’m just worried that by going too far in pretending to be a mortal will result in an event like what happened earlier today.”

The woman clicked her tongue. “That couldn’t be helped, there were cultivators in the area. That little thief will be dead soon anyway. More importantly, are all your preparations complete?”

Saying so, she did not wait for Dante’s response. The old man hobbled as fast as he could after her as she made her way to the back.

“Everything is done, now we just have to wait for the new year and the Sovereign will reward us all for our efforts.” A dreamy expression came over him at the thought. The woman snorted.

“Are these the rooms?”

The old man nodded. She opened the doors, looking in them and spreading out her sprit sense enough to engulf each of the rooms. Beads of sweat popped up on the Doctor’s skin at the sensation. Just being near her when she moved her Qi was like being engulfed in water. Her level of cultivation was not low in the slightest.

After going through each of them meticulously, the woman nodded and closed the last door. The old man felt a weight lift off his shoulders. It seemed that everything was truly ready.

“I’ll be going back to the caravan then. Do not contact me in person.”

The Doctor clasped his hands together as a goodbye and the woman left, disappearing into the night. Seeing that she was gone, he straightened his back as a cold look overtook him.

“Just a couple more months,” he muttered and closed the door tightly, sealing it and the fate of the village along with it.