Chapter 1: "Young Master, My Na is Crippled Monkey"
????Agonizing pain erupted from the depths of his soul, each breath a stab of icy knives in his lungs.
??He opened his eyes—not to the sterile white ceiling of a hospital, nor the chaos of a post-accident crowd. Instead, he stared into a boundless, desolate expanse painted in lifeless gray-brown.
??A muddy sky. Cracked earth.
??A few shriveled, blackened weeds twisted up from the ground, pointing accusing fingers at the heavens. The wind howled across the wasteland, kicking up gritty dust and filling the air with the scent of death and rust.
??“Where... where the hell am I?”
??Chen Fan gazed at the unfamiliar world, struggling to sit up. By habit, his hand reached for a cigarette in his pocket—only to find his old clothes gone, replaced by a rough, uncomfortable gray tunic. No smokes. Not even a pocket to search.
??Transmigrated?
??The thought crept in, cold and unwelco.
??He could feel the frailty of this new body—aching, stinging all over. Yet he rembered: before he blacked out, a runaway truck had barreled through a red light, crushing him beneath its wheels. There was no way he should feel this “well.”
??Just then—
??A trembling, tear-choked voice reached his ear: “Young Master... you’re finally awake!”
??He jerked his head toward the sound. Only now did he realize, in this endless wasteland, he was not alone. Beside him knelt a scrawny servant in the sa coarse clothing, alongside a ramshackle wooden hut and a blazing bonfire.
??The next instant—
??A spike of pain, like a red-hot iron, drove into his skull. Countless fragnted mories crashed into his mind with brutal force, and darkness swallowed him once more.
??...
??When he awoke again, he was lying on a hard wooden cot inside the hut. The servant must have dragged him in. And now, at last, he understood.
??He had transmigrated.
??The owner of this body was also nad Chen Fan. Even his face and build matched his own, as if he’d stepped sideways into a parallel world.
??In this world, when night fell, monstrous horrors erged from the darkness to slaughter the living. It had been this way for centuries. The world called it the “Eternal Night.”
??Only by staying close to a “Ghostfire” could one hope to survive.
??Ghostfire—special bonfires, painstakingly constructed.
??Anyone traveling the wastelands had to find a “waystation” before nightfall, for only waystations could sustain a Ghostfire.
??But building a Ghostfire was no trivial matter. Its base was massive, impossible to carry. Once the fire went out, the base would collapse on its own. To keep the Ghostfire burning, one had to continually feed it “Ghoststones.”
??Because of this—
??The wastelands outside the city were dotted with waystations maintained by various families, offering protection to rchants and travelers—for a price.
??This place was one such waystation, belonging to the Chen Clan.
??But...
??He hadn’t co here by choice. Despite being a young master of the Chen Clan, he’d been exiled to this dangerous outpost—sent to guard the station, with no Ghoststones provided for survival.
??Which ant—
??When the Ghostfire burned out, he would die.
??The body’s previous owner had collapsed under the pressure, his heart giving out on the spot. That was what had given Chen Fan this second chance at life.
??His only companion here was the servant by his side.
??“Young Master.”
??The scrawny youth knelt by the bedside, his tear-streaked face twisted with worry, voice hoarse: “You’ve been traveling so long... you must be exhausted. I’ll keep watch tonight. Please, Young Master, get so rest.”
??“...”
??Chen Fan forced himself upright, staggered to the hut’s door, and looked out at the bonfire. According to the mories in his mind, there were three Ghoststones buried beneath the Ghostfire’s base. At most, it would burn for three more days.
??Three days—then the fire would die.
??And so would he.
??No way he could sleep, not with a death sentence ticking down.
??Out here, the only way to get more Ghoststones was to kill Ghostbeasts and dig the stones out of their bodies.
??But...
??He was weak. Unard. How was he supposed to fight monsters?
??After a long, dazed silence, he finally spoke, his voice low: “You didn’t have to co with .”
??Before they sent him here, those bastards in the clan had promised his attendant a handso reward to stay behind. The plan was to let him die alone, lost to fear and despair beneath the endless night.
??But this man had co anyway.
??Without a mont’s hesitation.
??“Wherever Young Master goes, I go.”
??“Where Young Master dies, I die.”
??The scrawny man’s voice trembled, but his jaw was set with determination: “Without you, Young Master, I’d have been a pile of bones a long ti ago.”
??“...”
??Chen Fan was silent for a mont. “I just realized—I never asked your na.”
??There was no mory of this servant’s na in his mind.
??Back when all the core Chen Clan mbers picked their attendants, everyone else had chosen the strong, able-bodied ones, leaving only this skinny, crippled fellow behind. The original Chen Fan had considered him an embarrassnt, hardly ever speaking a word to him, let alone asking his na.
??And yet, even after being treated like that, this man was still here—loyal to the end. The original owner had been luckier than he knew.
??“Crippled Monkey.”
??“Young Master, my na is Crippled Monkey.”
??He ducked his head, voice barely more than a whisper: “I’m an orphan. Never had a real na. Steward Zhou said I was a cripple, skinny as a monkey, so he called
Crippled Monkey.”
??Chen Fan glanced at the man’s right leg. It was, indeed, a bit twisted.
??“All right.”
??He nodded, surveying the hut’s ager surroundings. “First priority is survival. Go outside and see if any travelers are passing by. The sun’s almost down—they’ll need shelter for the night. If you see anyone, call out and bring them here.”
??“The Ghostfire will only last three days.”
??“We need to earn so Ghoststones.”
??“And—”
??He walked over to Crippled Monkey, resting a hand on his bony shoulder and speaking softly: “If I manage to claw my way back, I won’t forget you. But if I die... well, that’s fate. We’ll have to accept it.”
??Crippled Monkey blinked, a strange light flaring in his eyes. The fear he’d felt since arriving at the outpost faded, replaced by sothing steadier. He straightened, voice ringing out: “Yes, Young Master!”
??Then he rushed from the hut to scan the wasteland for travelers.
??...
??Outside the hut.
??Crippled Monkey glanced around, but the wasteland stretched on forever—no sign of a soul. Not far away was a small dirt mound; from its top, he could see farther.
??He hesitated.
??Night was nearly upon them. If he didn’t get back before dark, he’d be dead for sure.
??But soon enough, he shook off his doubts and ran toward the mound with all the strength he could muster.
??He was crippled, from nothing.
??But he could sense it: the Young Master was different now. Gone was the bullied, cautious heir of the clan. It was as if he’d been reborn, transford into soone utterly new.
??He had a wild guess.
??Maybe the Young Master had seen through the clan’s sches—and let himself be exiled on purpose. Maybe he planned to use this out-of-the-way post as a springboard, to build his strength and, one day, storm back to the clan and reclaim what was rightfully his.
??That thought filled Crippled Monkey with hope, sweet as spring water.
??He, Crippled Monkey—
??Would do whatever it took to help the Young Master reclaim his rightful place!
??To make sure no one ever looked down on him again!
??How fast can a cripple run?
??But right now, a fire blazed in his heart, pushing him faster and faster. He barely noticed the pain in his right leg. All he could think about was reaching the top of that mound as quickly as possible!
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