Poison God's Heritage Chapter 2 Plans to Execute

The driver deposited me in a village cradled by a vast river, undeniably one of the largest I'd ever encountered. Its waters, though not turbulent, possessed a formidable current. Villagers bustled about, some tending fields, others vending food, while a few simply fished or ambled along. The scene exuded an aura of tranquil retirement.

Near a wide river, a few children engaged in mock combat with stick swords, embodying little warriors. On the opposite end of the village, a group of older children, perhaps twelve to fourteen years of age, were immersed in practicing martial arts. This place radiated an atmosphere of peace, a sanctuary where one could easily pass their days.

I surveyed my surroundings, contemplating my next move in life. With no family or connections here, I was destined to navigate this new existence alone.

A kindly elder, appearing around seventy, approached and inquired, "What brings the Young Immortal to our humble abode?" Despite his frail appearance, a warm smile graced his lips.

"I have been dispatched here," I responded.

"Has the Xuan Fu Sect assigned you a mission? If so, I am the Village Head and would be honored to assist. Anything you require, Young Immortal, I shall endeavor to provide."

"Immortal?" I echoed, puzzled.

"Are you not? You are attired in the garments of a Xuan Fu Sect Inner disciple."

"Ah, these," I replied, glancing down and offering a wry smile. "I was expelled. I have nothing else to wear."

The Village Head tilted his head, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. After a moment's thought, he beckoned, "Come, follow me." I complied, having no other direction in this unfamiliar territory.

He led me to the outskirts of the village, where a sizable hill overlooked the entire settlement. Atop it sat a modest shed, with a grand yew tree standing sentinel behind it, its verdant canopy offering shade.

"The Xuan Fu Sect once served as our patrons, offering invaluable aid. It is now my duty to repay that kindness through Karma. You shall reside here, and I will arrange for provisions to be brought to you," the Village Head explained.

"Wait, isn't this rather generous? I haven't done anything to merit such treatment," I protested.

The old man smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Indeed, but Karma must be acknowledged. All in this world are interconnected, bound in a ceaseless cycle of giving and receiving. Perhaps one day you will bring this cycle to a close, or perhaps another will."

His words were cryptic, but presented with a free dwelling and sustenance in a world where I possessed nothing, declining would be sheer foolishness.

"Then thank you, I accept your offer," I replied, adding, "Though I haven't even learned your name."

"I am Wang Nil," the old man stated with a smile. "You may rest and hone your martial arts here. I must return to the village to attend to pressing matters."

With a polite bow, the old man departed, leaving me to my own devices.

I examined the shed, noting its dilapidated state. The wood was rotted in numerous places, and the roof had largely collapsed. While better than sleeping outdoors, it offered little more. Still, with a few nails and planks, I believed I could make repairs.

'But where am I to find such materials? I'll need tools as well – at least a saw and a hammer. I should ascertain if this village has a blacksmith.'

Retracing my steps back to the village, I discovered my fears were realized: no blacksmith was present. However, a shop did exist within the settlement.

As I ventured deeper, an offensive stench assailed my nostrils. A man carelessly emptied a bucket of waste from his window into the street; a slight misstep could have coated me in filth.

Our eyes met, and the man yelped, hastily slamming his window shut, perhaps unnerved by my attire.

Entering the shop, I perused the available merchandise. The shelves were stocked primarily with grains, preserved foods, and a selection of candies.

"Hello," I greeted.

"Young Immortal, how may I be of service?" a man responded, hurrying towards me from outside the shop.

Curiously, the man was drenched in sweat, as if gripped by fear.

He appeared to be middle-aged, the passage of time etched on his face, yet he seemed healthier than many of the villagers I'd observed. Perhaps his trade ensured adequate nourishment.

For a moment, I hesitated. I possessed no currency, no means to acquire the tools I needed. However, the prospect of performing odd jobs for the villagers might yield some coins. Acting on this thought, I inquired, assuming I could perhaps arrange for a loan.

"I am seeking tools: a hammer, an axe, and a saw, if you have them."

"Certainly, please wait a moment." The shopkeeper disappeared into the depths of the establishment, exiting through a closed door.

The man quickly presented me with the required items.

"Do you happen to have any nails? I could use some as well."

"Yes, I do," the man responded, producing a box filled with various sizes of nails. I selected a handful, placing them on the counter.

"These should suffice. As for payment..." I began, but the man gestured dismissively.

"For members of the Xuan Fu Sect, I require no payment. These are hardly expensive. Please, take them." he declared.

My eyebrows rose; this Xuan Fu Sect affiliation was proving rather beneficial.

"Then I shall gladly accept your generous offer," I replied, turning to leave.

I made my way back to the hill, my bag laden with materials for constructing my modest shed. A forest stood nearby, offering ample timber.

Surprisingly, the ache in my joints and body gradually subsided, perhaps from growing accustomed to it or my mind simply tuning it out. This was convenient, given the tasks ahead.

I commenced by chopping at a large tree. Some village children appeared, curious about my activity but hesitant to approach.

After the initial swing, the axe shuddered, nearly slipping from my grasp. While the tool was of decent quality, the sheer force behind my swing was immense. This body possessed strength beyond that of an average man, necessitating an adjustment in the power of each strike.

It took only a few attempts to gauge the precise force required for effective chopping, and I felled the tree in under a minute.

With the tree down, I began sawing it. The process was remarkably easy, the saw's sharpness allowing it to slice through the wood as if it were butter. It wasn't that the tools were exceptional or the tree unusually brittle, but rather, my own strength posed a risk of breaking them if I wasn't careful.

After cutting a substantial plank, a task that likely took an hour or two, I hoisted it onto my shoulder and headed back to the shed. Completing the work before nightfall was paramount.

Upon my return, I removed several sections of rotten wood, replacing them with the new planks. The hammer and nails proved effective in securing them. Within another hour, I had a serviceable shelter for the night.

While I was engrossed in my work, I remained unaware of someone leaving food at my doorstep.

I ate my fill of rice and a piece of dried jerky before resuming my efforts. I needed to fashion a bed, as the existing one in the house was damaged and housed things I preferred not to touch.

I cleared away debris and tidied the shed, then placed a newly constructed bed frame inside. I then enlisted one of the children—though they were all my age—to fetch some hay. They promptly procured dry hay and a pair of old blankets.

Nightfall arrived swiftly. I had avoided any interaction, keeping myself busy throughout the day to escape the stark reality. I was in a place where no one knew me, devoid of technology. Here, one couldn't simply activate an air conditioner on a hot day, and beds were fashioned from straw instead of my comfortable King Size mattress.

My death was a certainty, immutable. Yet, on the other hand, I found myself in a cultivation world. I arrived without knowing my purpose, my future uncertain. However, in such a world, one could forge their own destiny with their own hands. To achieve this, I first had to master cultivation.

I wasn't entirely clueless about the mechanics of such worlds. Firstly, I had placed perhaps too much trust in the village head, but I remained vigilant. He didn't strike me as the sort to harbor malicious intent, unlike typical characters in such narratives. Secondly, I'd heard that my current body possessed shattered meridians, along with mentions of cultivation deviation. This implies that the previous owner failed in circulating what is known as Spiritual Qi, or perhaps World Energy, Mana, Chakra, or whatever term is used. His failure resulted in the rupture and subsequent uselessness of his meridians.

This was undoubtedly the cause of his demise, and I had consequently reincarnated into his body. This young boy had trained his physique diligently; it was robust, exceeding that of a middle-aged man, likely by two or three times. This presented a significant advantage.

However, if I were to thrive in this world, mirroring the protagonists from the stories I'd read, I needed to address my most pressing issue: the inability to cultivate or circulate the so-called Spiritual Qi within my body. To overcome this, a miraculous medicine or an elixir was required. Such remedies, however, came at a steep price.

Therefore, the crucial question became: how could I acquire the necessary funds?

I pondered and deliberated endlessly, until an idea struck me with the force of a physical blow.

"Technology!" It was the obvious, the simple, and the perfect solution.

I rose and approached the rudimentary tools with which the shop owner had furnished me. They were crudely fashioned from iron and bore a patina of rust, their quality decidedly poor. Had they been forged from steel, they would have offered superior sharpness and durability.

The knowledge of steel production was within my grasp, a remnant from my engineering studies. Even if steel existed in this realm, I possessed the precise carbon-to-iron ratios for crafting the most potent alloy.

Secondly, the sanitation was appalling. I had just witnessed a man unceremoniously dump a bucket of filth into the street, a practice bound to propagate disease. Moreover, the water provided with my meal was alarmingly unclear, likely drawn directly from the river. It necessitated boiling over a fire before consumption.

Thirdly, the river itself presented a magnificent source of power. Constructing a mill there could facilitate wheat grinding or even a water-powered sawmill. A dam, too, could unleash immense potential, potentially yielding electricity, illumination, and sustained power. The possibilities were vast and readily achievable, but acquiring proper tools was the immediate priority.

Fortunately, I possessed the physical fortitude to wield these tools, the Qi to fuel such ambitious constructions, and the patience to see them through. What more could one ask for?

Sleep soon claimed me, for the morrow promised significant endeavors as I prepared to commence the revitalization of this locale.