I am a Primitive Man Chapter 1: This is not in line with the rules of time travel
The heavens displayed a profound azure, with rays of sunlight enveloping the hills and woods. The entire landscape looked peaceful and calm, emanating a special sense of peace.
"Crackle, crackle."
"Boom, boom."
Sudden roaring noises boomed through the air above, the real clamor of lightning crashing on a sunny day.
The sky, clear only seconds before, turned gloomy right away amid these explosive rumbles, as though darkness was closing in fast.
"Puff."
The relentless thunder halted abruptly, followed by an unexpected gasp that clashed with the pattern. It resembled an enhanced suppressed fart echoing after the prior blasts, creating a hilariously mismatched effect.
Following this fart-sounding noise, the sky, like it had a bad bellyache it couldn't contain, unleashed a bolt of flame trailed by electricity from the dark clouds, plummeting directly earthward.
The light stretched long in the shadowy surroundings, shining with remarkable brightness.
Once this fiery lightning struck down, the space between sky and ground fell silent at once.
The heavy clouds blocking the light scattered quickly, fading away entirely.
The sun positioned high continued to illuminate the hills and woods, restoring the sky to a crystal-clear state like a spotless pond.
Without a particular spot on the ground still flickering with flames and releasing wisps of blue vapor, attempting to confirm the recent event, anyone might question if it had been a mere figment.
This dramatic occurrence happened swiftly and intensely, altering the hues of heaven and earth, leaving observers in utter awe. It felt like the skies had unleashed all their power merely to purge the turmoil brewing inside.
Though it provided relief to the heavens, the woodland beneath endured a disaster. Trees toppled, caught fire, and released blue vapors, needing time to slowly die out.
In the atmosphere heavy with roasted meat scent, an unfortunate soul caught in this uncommon event turned into a scorched figure.
As the haze lifted, the view underneath revealed itself. A ring about ten meters across, made solely of scorched remnants, formed in the somewhat flattened woods. It made folks wonder again at the skies' distinctive craftsmanship. Even in destruction, the result held an artistic charm.
A fully blackened item stood at the circle's heart, roughly one meter thirty tall. The scent of charred meat drifted from it.
The surroundings grew still, with only faint trails of blue vapor hanging around.
Sunbeams filtered through the thick, towering nearby trees, falling upon the scorched ground. It was as if the light itself wondered about the celestial uproar and its outcome.
Moments slipped by silently, and the fading blue vapor finally vanished altogether. The spot stayed the same, like it was just an extraordinarily vivid happening.
Illusion or reality, a faint noise came from the top of the blackened shape.
As moments elapsed, bits of fully burned outer layer dropped away. Beneath those dark pieces, two pale, slightly gleaming orbs appeared, and the scariest part was their seeming motion.
"Whoosh."
"Whoosh."
Sensing suffocation's grip, Han Cheng, like a fish surfacing from near-death in water, desperately inhaled the clean air. Recovery took him some time.
He gazed at the scorched remnants nearby, the thick woods in the distance, and bewilderment flickered in his eyes.
As recollections slowly resurfaced, his already wide eyes stretched further. They might have popped free without their sockets containing them.
Damn.
What the hell?
Wasn't he out looking for those three foolish foreign companions who dared enter the wasteland, only to lose touch with them?
How did he wind up in this cursed spot all of a sudden?
Han Cheng gawked with bulging eyes at the lush, bizarre forest ahead, utterly baffled and suspicious.
No matter what, this wasn't his prior location.
That accursed area became barren sands centuries back. With woods this thick, those three fools wouldn't have caused him to lose contact.
Han Cheng, solo with his gear, had scoured the desert for three or four days for his three rash foreign pals, spotting no trace. The mere thought enraged him.
Yet, how to account for the present situation?
From what he knew, no such thick forest existed within three hundred miles of his starting point.
In short, he'd shifted at least three hundred miles.
Could this mean he'd crossed to a different realm?
A ridiculous notion suddenly struck Han Cheng's mind, sending a shiver through him.
Though he fought hard to reject this wild idea, the facts and sights around compelled him to consider it.
Besides, only this explanation fit all he observed.
He lacked prank-loving buddies, and his ties to others weren't that tight. Otherwise, he wouldn't have accepted Li Lin's ask to substitute on Valentine's Day and handle this dreadful job by himself.
After all, he was the sole bachelor in the group.
This eliminated any prank chance.
As for delusions, no way. Han Cheng felt sharply alert now, and the aches everywhere in his body kept proving this wasn't a dream.
After the initial shock, Han Cheng's mind settled bit by bit.
Whatever. He'd always been unattached, drifting freely as he wished.
Having crossed, a new way of living wasn't terrible.
In spare moments, Han Cheng had devoured plenty of stories and knew the blissful existences of those who crossed.
Han Cheng wasn't ambitious. Multiple wives, high status, riches—those elite setups weren't for him. Just thriving in the countryside would suffice.
After toiling half his life in the old world with little gain, now with a fresh start, why repeat mistakes? Better to treat himself well and enjoy comfort.
With that in mind, he checked for any incoming memories from another, as tales often described.
After attempting for a bit, he noticed nothing special.
Alright, so no soul swap or takeover happening.
Thinking thus, he wondered and searched for a system. Would its central deity be as mad as in books, randomly threatening limb loss?
Yet disappointment hit again. No system signs anywhere.
Han Cheng grew annoyed. Why did others get systems on crossing, but for him, zilch—not even basic local recollections?
Aiming to rub his nose, a go-to when irritated, he encountered something worse. His hand refused to obey his mental command.
What frustrated him more was realizing, after noting the hand's immobility, that only his eyes could shift, nose and mouth could breathe—everything else, despite his efforts, stayed frozen.
He couldn't utter a noise either.
Damn it! Didn't crossers all get heavenly favor, conquering skies, lands, and winds?
Why for him was it all flipped? Not just missing cheats, now he was like a paralyzed invalid.
This broke the fundamental laws.
"Rustle, rustle, rustle."
Faint noises arose from the forest's left, with branches and foliage moving lightly.
In his heart, shifting from gloom to hope, Han Cheng anticipated his savior's arrival.
Per story tropes, crossers typically met kind helpers, particularly when the lead, like him, was stuck in a paralyzed state.