“血...！”
当拓跋昊快睡着的时候，右手不小心擦过他的腹部。
湿润粘稠的感觉立刻把他惊醒了。
透过窗外透进来的微光，他只见手里拿着一种不知名的粘稠液体。
血！
拓跋昊瞳孔收缩，一股恐惧在那一瞬间涌上脑海。
深红色的鲜血，加上黑暗、寂静，以及刚刚醒来的迷茫感，让他心中一阵寒意。
发生了什么事情？
恢复了思考能力，拓跋焘拼命地想了解自己的状况。
疼痛！
好痛！
他的肚子剧痛不堪！
还没等他进一步思考，腹部散发出的痉挛波将他深深地陷入了深渊。
夜深人静的时候，他的肚子怎么会突然疼起来！
还有血！
捂着腹部，拓跋愣在床沿，豆子大小的汗珠不受控制地涌出。
这种感觉就像他的肚子被一把雨伞刺破了，伞尖从他的背上伸出来。不！他内心还在疯狂地激荡着！
我会死吗？
我会遇到早逝吗？
拓跋昊想尖叫，想翻身，但肚子的剧痛让他没有力气，身体仿佛失去了控制。
一个梦！
这一定是一场梦！
借鉴过往类似遭遇的经历，拓跋愁立刻想到，
醒来！醒醒吧！
嗯，好像不疼了。
努力唤醒自己，拓跋昊觉得肚子里的痉挛已经不像以前那么异常了。
现在感觉更像是有人把他的胃扭成椒盐卷饼般的疼痛。
呵呵...好吧，至少我明天不必编码。肚子痛应该是一个令人信服的理由来说服那个无情的老板。
但是为什么我完全好的肚子会突然疼呢？
血！。。。对，怎么会有血！
拓跋昊想起了手中粘稠的暗红色血液，然后低下头，看了看自己肚子上刚才还疼痛的地方。
他看到自己的肚子慢慢起伏，好像正在愈合。
然而，令人毛骨悚然的是他肚子上形状完美的圆形月亮投影！
不！这违背了物理学！
拓跋愣心中充满了恐惧。以他的高等教育背景，他当然知道光的折射是不正常的！
他抬头看了看外面的月亮，只见它挂在天空中，异常明亮。
他的目光重新聚焦在旧的木制双挂窗上，玻璃上有微小的污迹。
我在哪里？我记得家里有落地窗。我会不会是幻觉？
拓跋愣挣扎着，在床头坐了起来。环顾四周，他在月光下打量着周围的环境：
这是一个小房间，与墙壁相邻的是一张单人木床。
两边有两扇门，左边有一个奶油色的柜子。在柜子的顶层架子上，有一对略显破旧的女式公寓，下面是五个阶梯式的封闭抽屉。
柜子的右边是一根银灰色的柱子，上面嵌着一个类似时钟的装置，高度大约是一个人的高度。柱子延伸到天花板，目的地未知。
在床的另一边，在房间的最左端，有一张红木色的桌子，大约一臂长。
书桌左侧堆放着旧书，旁边是一盏摇摇晃晃的台灯。
书桌右边，放着一面铜镜，月光下，拓跋焘看到了自己的倒影：
铜色的头发，棕色的眼睛，普通的五官和瘦骨嶙峋的框架......
床上诡异的月亮投影，房间的欧式古典风格，镜子里的自己，都指向一个结论：
F*ck... Have I traveled through time?
Embracing the belief that "in books there is the beauty of a jade-like face, and in books there are golden houses," as well as being an avid reader of various time-travel novels, Tuo Hao naturally knew what had happened.
Before Tuo Hao could sort out his thoughts, a flurry of scattered memories began to emerge in his mind.
Zorian Brown, a resident of Nyx Town in the Guggenheim Nation, currently a senior student majoring in history at Kohl's College.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
His father was an ordinary soldier in the Guggenheim Nation's Knights' Order who sacrificed his life in a battle. The pension provided by the government served as the foundation for Zorian to enter college.
His mother was a devout follower of the Celestial Order and passed away on the day Zorian Brown passed the entrance exam for Kohl's College...
He shared a three-bedroom apartment with an older brother and a younger sister. The living room behind the door on the right was his brother's room, while the owner of the flats on the left was his sister.
The family's financial situation was ordinary, or one could even say meager, relying solely on his brother's meager salary as a clerk to survive...
Using the tiny bit of strength he had accumulated, Tuo Hao walked up to the mirror and silently contemplated his current self.
He looked at his stomach once again, and the previously overlooked wound reappeared before his eyes:
As his belly slowly healed, he could see his own stomach!
Terrified, Tuo Hao staggered backward, the pain from earlier almost overwhelming his ability to support his own body.
As he was about to fall, his foot bumped against the edge of the bed. Taking advantage of the momentum, he slumped down at the foot of the bed, his hands barely supporting his body.
How is this possible? How can a normal person survive such a severe injury?
Tuo Hao took a deep breath, straightened his back, and waved his arms a few times, feeling the warmth of his body to ensure that he was still alive.
He made an effort to calm himself down and looked at his slowly wriggling stomach, occasionally feeling a slight itch.
"This... is the healing power brought about by time-travel?"
Tuo Hao watched the miraculous and eerie healing process, and his emotions gradually settled.
He went to the mirror on the desk and began to contemplate what had happened to make Zorian Brown experience such a fate.
Fragmented memories flooded his mind.
It was when the college led their group of graduating history students to the largest and most comprehensive library in the Byrn Kingdom, or even the entire Olysia Continent. He was researching historical records when suddenly, he heard a faint voice, as if whispering something.
At first, he didn't pay much attention to these voices, thinking they were just accidental noises made by his classmates.
But these murmurs seemed to possess a magical power, driving his curiosity to the extreme.
Zorian followed the source of the sound and found a book that was entirely black, with a complex circular pattern on its cover, representing something unknown.
Zorian held that book, sometimes frowning, sometimes nodding in satisfaction, but he couldn't recall the specific contents he saw. It was as if someone had intentionally erased it from his memory.
Then, under the guidance of the college, they returned home, had a normal dinner, and went to bed early.
The peculiar voices, the black book...
Tuo Hao extracted the eerie elements from his memories.
At this moment, his eyes glanced at the mirror beside him. Through the reflection in the mirror, he noticed a peculiar word faintly hidden within the perfectly circular projection.
Tuo Hao grabbed pen and paper from the desk, leaned toward the edge of the bed, and carefully sketched out that word:
"ॐ"
As a graduating senior in the history department, Zorian had knowledge of the ancient Kabbalistic cipher recorded in history books, as well as the Om mantra used in ancient prayers and rituals...
Om mantra? Tuo Hao's mind stirred, and he began to translate the word using the Om mantra. Gradually, the word transformed from unfamiliar to decipherable, and from decipherable to familiar.
The original meaning of the word vividly appeared in Tuo Hao's mind:
"Death"!
Suddenly, a chill ran up his spine.
Fear drove him to inexplicably want to distance himself from that piece of paper, from that single word!
Tuo Hao slumped in front of the desk, the immense sense of terror urging him to escape as quickly as possible!
He pressed his hand against his chest, forcing himself to calm down.
After a few minutes of silence, Tuo Hao, now composed and having subdued his fear, naturally set aside the bizarre events experienced by Zorian. He began to contemplate how to return.
There were many reasons to want to go back.
Parents, wife, relatives, friends—all of them could be reasons to return. Not to mention the fact that Tuo Hao, as an ordinary person, had little hope of surviving in this eerie world.
"I haven't encountered anything particularly special recently..."
"Just a string of bad luck... It seems like every unrelated mishap falls on me... Getting scolded and having my salary deducted..."
Bad luck? Tuo Hao had a sudden realization and remembered the ritual he performed yesterday before dinner to change his luck.
As an internet enthusiast, Tuo Hao enjoyed reading about such mystical things. Whenever he came across something that felt useful but not entirely reliable, he would jot it down in his little notebook.
Yesterday, when Tuo Hao returned home from work and started tidying up, he happened to come across his brown-black notebook. Feeling overwhelmed by work pressure, he naturally opened it to reminisce about his chuunibyou days and to alleviate the monotony.
Little did he expect that the first page of the notebook displayed the words "Good Luck Ritual" in crooked and hesitant handwriting. Surprisingly, there was even an explanation below the four big characters!
"Performing this ritual will dispel bad luck and bring temporary good fortune."
Looking at those twisted Chinese characters, Tuo Hao couldn't help but find it funny yet oddly fitting for his current mood.
He immediately decided to follow the ritual.
However, to his disappointment, after completing the ritual, Tuo Hao didn't dispel his bad luck. In fact, right after finishing the ritual, when he went to use the restroom, he realized he had forgotten to bring toilet paper!...
Tuo Hao laughed and cursed the ritual a few times, then dismissed the incident from his mind.
After dinner, with the early morning looming ahead, Tuo Hao didn't think much and went straight to bed.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in this world.
"Could it be because of that ritual? It's highly possible..."
"Hmm... the ritual requires some materials, which I don't have at the moment. I'll try the ritual again tomorrow!"
Tuo Hao made up his mind, and the only potential source of doubt was that ritual.
With no other choice, Tuo Hao could only attempt it once more!
Desperate times call for desperate measures!