Jiang Cheng’s consciousness stirred sluggishly, as though it were trapped in a dense fog. His head throbbed with an unbearable pounding, like a celestial blacksmith had been hammering away at his skull without end. Groaning, he tried to move, only to realize his entire body felt like it had been run over by a celestial ox cart—twice.

“Ugh…” He winced, forcing his eyes open. Blurry shapes greeted him, slowly sharpening into an unfamiliar sight. Above him, a rickety roof sagged dangerously low, its beams cracked and gnawed at by time and perhaps rats. Shafts of dim light pierced through the holes in the roof, illuminating motes of dust lazily floating in the air. Beneath him, rough, broken straw poked at his back, leaving itchy scratches that added insult to injury.

Jiang Cheng blinked. Then he blinked again. His mind struggled to catch up with reality, like a broken wagon trying to move uphill. “Where… am I?” he croaked, his voice hoarse and dry as if he hadn’t had a drop of water in days.

He tried to sit up, only to be greeted by a sharp, stabbing pain in his ribs that nearly made him scream. “Ow! What the hell!” He collapsed back onto the straw, clutching his side. Every part of his body protested as if he’d been beaten within an inch of his life—or worse, spent a night partying and woke up with the hangover of the century.

It was then that the three age-old questions surfaced in his mind like bubbles breaking through the murky waters of confusion: " Who am I? Where am I? And… where the hell am I going? "

As he lay there, staring blankly at the dilapidated ceiling, a creeping sense of unease began to take root in his chest. His memories were fragmented, scattered like shards of glass. Then, a horrifying thought struck him, making his heart skip a beat. His face twisted in disbelief. “Wait… did I transmigrate?!”

His words echoed in the silence of the shack, and for a moment, Jiang Cheng simply stared into the void. Slowly, his mind began piecing things together, fueled by years of reading fantasy novels during his previous life. " The confusion… the strange surroundings… the mysterious injuries… It all adds up! This is just like one of those transmigration stories!"

Excitement flared in his chest as he sat up abruptly—only to immediately regret it. The pain in his ribs flared again, and he doubled over, hissing through his teeth. “Damn it, can’t I even have a proper protagonist moment?!”

Leaning back against the wall, Jiang Cheng began inspecting his surroundings more carefully. The shack he was in looked like it was on its last legs—or perhaps had already died and was now merely existing out of spite. The walls were made of warped wooden planks, riddled with holes that let the wind whistle through. The roof was more patchwork than solid, and a corner of the room was taken up by a crude clay pot filled with what appeared to be wet dirt.

He glanced down at himself. His hands were rough and calloused, his fingernails dirty and chipped. The rags he was wearing could hardly be called clothes—more like strips of cloth stitched together in a desperate attempt to cover a body. His stomach growled loudly, breaking the silence, and he realized he was starving.

The excitement from earlier quickly gave way to frustration. Jiang Cheng slapped his forehead, groaning. “No divine artifact? No secret inheritance? Just… this? What kind of crappy start is this?! Did I transmigrate into a beggar?!”

He looked down at his scrawny arms, noting the bruises and scratches covering his skin. A wave of anger surged through him as his thoughts spiraled. " Whose unlucky body did I possess?! What kind of life was this guy living?! Did he roll around in a pit of rocks before dying?!"

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Grinding his teeth, Jiang Cheng cursed inwardly. “You bastard! Whoever you were, what the hell were you doing with your life? Did you owe someone money? Did you steal their chickens? Why does it feel like you’ve been beaten up by the entire village?!”

As his stomach growled again, Jiang Cheng clenched his fists and glared at the ceiling. “Thief God! Are you messing with me?! I was an average guy in my last life! I didn’t ask for much—just food, sleep, and occasionally some entertainment. Was that too much to ask?!”

His voice grew louder as his frustration boiled over. “What did I do wrong? Was it because I downloaded pirated novels? Is this your punishment for me reading about cultivation for free?! Fine! I admit it! I’ll buy them next time—wait, no, there’s no next time, is there?! Damn it all!”

His voice grew louder, his anger pouring out like the very rain seeping through the roof. “Look at this place! Look at me! I’m wearing clothes that even beggars wouldn’t want! I thought I’d wake up as a chosen one, not a punching bag for the heavens!”

As if in response, a loud crack of thunder roared across the sky.

Jiang Cheng froze, his hands still mid-rant. His face went pale as his head slowly tilted upward to the patched roof.

“…I was kidding,” he muttered, his voice shaking. Another crack of thunder boomed, even louder this time, and Jiang Cheng dove under the rickety table, clutching his head. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I was out of line! Thief God, you’re very fair and just! Please don’t smite me!”

The wind howled through the gaps in the shack, making it creak ominously. Jiang Cheng, still crouched under the table, peeked out nervously. “I wasn’t serious, you know. Just venting. Totally respectful. Let’s not escalate this…”

BOOM! A terrifying flash lit up the sky, illuminating the inside of the shack for a split second.

Jiang Cheng yelped and scrambled further under the table, curling into a ball. “Okay, okay! I’ll stop complaining! Thank you for this… uh… enlightening experience, Thief God! Very educational! I’ll be good from now on!”

The thunder quieted down, and the shack seemed to calm with it. Jiang Cheng cautiously uncurled, peeking out from his hiding spot. The rain continued to drizzle through the roof, but the sky had gone relatively silent.

Sighing in relief, he crawled back out and sat down on the straw, wiping his damp forehead. “Note to self,” he muttered. “Never insult the heavens. They take it personally.”

But just as he finished his sentence, As if to mock him, a particularly large drop of water fell from the roof and landed square on his head. Jiang Cheng glared up at the ceiling, his fist trembling. “You win this round, Thief God. But don’t think I’m giving up. One day, I’ll stand above the heavens… just as soon as I figure out how to get out of this mess.”

The shack creaked ominously in response, as if mocking his plight. Jiang Cheng glared at the wooden beams. “Don’t you start with me. If you collapse, I swear I’ll haunt you in the afterlife!”

He sat there, fuming, until a sudden thought struck him. His expression froze, and a chill ran down his spine. "Wait… what if I’m not the protagonist? What if I’m just a side character? Or worse… cannon fodder?!"

The realization hit him like a lightning bolt. Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened as he grabbed his head in despair. “No, no, no! This can’t be happening! I’m supposed to be the son of the plane! The chosen one! Not some unlucky bastard who gets killed off in chapter two to make the villain look cool!”

His imagination ran wild, conjuring images of himself being crushed underfoot by some arrogant young master or incinerated by an evil sect leader. The thought made his blood run cold.

“No! I refuse to be cannon fodder! Even if the heavens want me to be a stepping stone, I’ll carve my name into that stone and turn it into a monument!” He clenched his fists, determination burning in his eyes.

But just as quickly as the fire ignited, it fizzled out. Jiang Cheng slumped against the wall, sighing deeply. “Who am I kidding? Look at me. I’m starving, covered in bruises, and living in a shack that might collapse at any moment. Protagonists don’t start out like this. This is the setup for a tragic background character!”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. " Alright, Jiang Cheng. Calm down. Think this through. Maybe this is just the heavens testing me. Yeah, that’s it. The real plot hasn’t started yet. This is just the prelude… probably."

His stomach growled again, louder this time, snapping him out of his thoughts. Jiang Cheng grimaced. “First things first. Food. I can’t rise above the heavens on an empty stomach.”

Forcing himself to his feet, Jiang Cheng winced as his body protested. Every step he took felt like walking on knives, but he gritted his teeth and stumbled toward the door. The moment he opened it, a blast of cold wind hit him, making him shiver.

He stepped outside, only to freeze in place. The world before him was bleak—fields of dry, cracked earth stretched as far as the eye could see, dotted with patches of stubborn weeds. A gray sky loomed overhead, threatening rain.

“…Where the hell am I?” Jiang Cheng muttered, his confusion returning full force.

He glanced back at the shack, then at the desolate landscape. His shoulders slumped. “Alright, Jiang Cheng. One step at a time. Let’s just… survive today first.”

And so, his journey began—not with the glory of a chosen hero, but with the grumbling of a starving man, cursing the heavens under his breath.