Some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them. Jack fit into none of these categories, at least according to himself. A child of immense potential and an adult of unfulfilled promise, he’d lived a complicated life. As a kid from a poor family, he was exceptionally bright, he picked things up quickly, whatever task he was given he accomplished almost perfectly, except for his terrible handwriting. He even managed to get into a very prestigious college with full scholarship. His parents, teachers and nearly everyone around him expected him to achieve great things and far surpass his peers, yet it seemed that Jack was fated to let them all down.

  After he got into college and moved away from home, he got his first taste of freedom and all the years of suppressed memories filled with abuse slowly came back to him. That, combined with excessively demanding schedule, the intense and hostile competition amongst his peers and his poor diet slowly drove him into depression. Waking up every morning wishing he never did and still dragging himself to classes and his part time job.

  He was always a bit of nerd and a loner, who enjoyed all things fantasy, because the real world felt boring and mundane at times, and even tedious and painful, considering the kind of unfortunate background he came from. Due to his parents’ mental, psychological and sometimes even physical abuse during his childhood, he’d cut contact with them during college, which he had failed out of. Now at 29 years of age, he was a lone quiet man working at a dead-end office job with crappy pay, staying in a tiny closet of an apartment. His only enjoyment came from video games, comics books and fantasy/cultivation novels. They let him forget his troubles without him needing to get blackout drunk or high off his mind, and they were much easier on his liver.

  One of his favorite things to read about was the ‘Isekai’ or the transmigration trope where the main character would be transported to a different world. It was the epitome of escapism and a nice distraction from his troubles. Oftentimes he would daydream about such an occurrence happening to him, meeting “truck-kun” didn’t seem like that big of a deal from his perspective. Either he got to go to an entirely different world, with some special ability or a cheat skill if he was lucky, or none of his problems would matter anymore.

  Daydreaming about it was one thing but experiencing something like that for real was extremely disorienting to say the least.

  It had been a month since the ‘incident’ where he had gone to sleep in his crappy room on a Sunday and awoke in a completely different place. When Jack had wished for a way to skip the pointless Monday meetings, he hadn’t expected it to be granted in the most outlandish way possible. At least he didn’t have to listen to the whining of his incompetent managers and his kiss-ass coworkers, so his predicament had some upsides after all, or at least that’s what he told himself.

  After a month that had gone by in a daze, Jack had finally come to terms with the fact that this wasn’t a fever dream and he really was inside a Xianxia novel. He was currently in the Fallen Star City, a name he barely remembered from a cultivation novel, “The Heavenly Way”. It was an old power fantasy novel filled with arrogant young masters, jade beauties and a face slapping MC with heaven defying luck.

  As far as cultivation novels went, it was on the lower end of average quality-wise and easily forgettable, so much so that Jack could barely remember the name of the MC. It was something like Jiang Chen or Jian Chen or something along those lines. What was even more unfortunate was that Fallen Star City was barely mentioned in the original novel, the MC had a couple fights in the city before the story moved on elsewhere, so Jack barely had any information regarding his surroundings. Which meant that knowing the secret location of a heavenly treasure, a rare spiritual herb or the hidden cultivation cave of a long-gone immortal master, filled with his treasures and legacy, was out of the question.

  He sat cross-legged on his ragged cushion, in a room that could charitably be described as ‘economical’. The Xiao Clan, once a respected name in Fallen Star City were, to put it mildly, teetering on the edge and the clan residences reflected this decline in chipped paint, cracked walls and an empty treasury. Jack, now Xiao Yun, stared blankly at the flickering candlelight, its meager illumination doing little to dispel the gloom that seemed to perpetually hang over his room, both literally and figuratively.

  Thinking of his predicament, Xiao Yun sighed. At the age of eighteen, he was a youth of lean build, with long dark hair, fit but slender physique and rather pale skin. He suited the typical description of a dandy, which he apparently was. If any physical feature set him apart from the masses, it was his reddish colored irises, which was a common feature in all the Xiao clan descendants, something to do with their bloodline. If his fragmented memories were to be believed, his aptitude was utterly trash. In a world of cultivators soaring through the skies, wielding elemental powers, and crafting legendary artifacts, he was barely stronger than a mortal.

  In these types of transmigration stories the MC would awaken some mysterious power, a cheat system, get some divine beast companion or even some spirit grandpa stuck inside a medallion to teach him various cultivation secrets. In Jack’s case he got nothing.

  He had spent the last month in a state of bewildered acceptance, transitioning from wide-eyed panic to a kind of numb resignation. It was a month of awkward greetings in a language he mysteriously understood, strange food he somehow managed to stomach, and the constant, low-grade anxiety of being in a world where people could casually explode mountains. A world where mildly annoying the wrong person could get your entire clan exterminated, chickens, dogs and all. And he had no way to defend himself or to increase his cultivation. Since his clan was also broke, throwing money, or rather spiritual stones at the problem wouldn’t work either.

  “Luminous Celestial Flow” He mumbled, remembering the name of his cultivation technique. It sounded vaguely impressive, like something you’d see on a fancy tea box. It was a cultivation technique, that if practiced to its peak, would bestow its user tremendous strength, their spiritual energy would flow like a river of stars! At least that’s what the technique manual described. In reality, it was about as exciting as watching beige paint dry. He’d tried cultivating in multiple instances, following the instructions in the rudimentary manual provided by the clan to move this new energy inside his spiritual veins. His body instinctively remembered how to utilize spiritual energy, but it was still a foreign sensation, like trying to control the flow of one’s blood within a second set of veins that existed alongside his blood vessels.

  Cultivating in basic terms was to use one’s ability to sense the ambient spiritual energy and draw them into his spiritual channels and guide them along a specific pathway that changed according to the technique used. Then the cultivator would slowly refine that energy and gather it in their lower abdomen, which was referred to as ‘dantian’. As they gathered more and more spiritual energy it would reach a threshold, they would then ‘break through’ to the next stage of cultivation, having improved the amount of spiritual energy their dantian could hold, as well as improved control over the said energy. After that almost all of their attributes would naturally be improved as well.

  Xiao Yun tried to do as the manual described, using his incomplete memory as secondary guidance. The result was…. well, he hadn’t spontaneously combusted, which he counted as a minor victory. But ‘flowing luminous celestial energy’ felt more like trying to push a shopping cart uphill, but the cart had a missing wheel and it was also filled with bags of cement. His cultivation talent was trash grade as expected.

  Here in the opulent decay of the Xiao estate, ordinariness was a luxury he could no longer afford. He was Xiao Yun, direct descendant of a once-great family, a name whispered with a mixture of pity and barely concealed scorn among his peers in the city. The original Xiao Yun, if his hazy memories were to be trusted, was not exactly motivated.

  Stuck at the third circle of the Qi Gathering stage since childhood with poor talent, a stagnant pool in a river of rushing currents, forever unable to advance. And then came the final crushing blow, the disappearance of his parents at the Nine Yin Abyss where danger and opportunity coexist, a perilous place where few ever returned from. From what he could piece together, they were supposed to be on some important mission, some last-ditch effort to revive the family fortunes and maybe find some miracle herb or a special technique that could allow Xiao Yun to cultivate like normal. Unfortunately, they had vanished without a trace, leaving the young Xiao Yun adrift in a sea of grief and apathy. He’d simply given up. On cultivation, on life seemingly. He’d just distracted himself with cheap pleasures to forget his pain. That sounded familiar enough to Jack.

  But from Jack’s perspective, stagnant cultivation and absent parents didn’t really mean much. Leaving aside a child’s desire and need for their parents’ affection and attention, Jack would always try to avoid attention from his own parents, because anytime they did pay attention to him, it would mean abuse or exploitation of some kind was coming his way. So not having parents or anyone else to pay close attention to him for that matter suited him just fine. He wouldn’t know how to handle parental affection from strangers anyway. Especially when his mind was still reeling from the shock of transmigrating into a world inside a novel. As for cultivating, no one on earth was capable of cultivating to his knowledge. He’d spent his whole life believing that the entire concept was a product of fiction, so his inability to improve his cultivation didn’t bother him the way it would have a native of this new world. What he was feeling was utter bafflement and a sense of novelty. It was like a person who was born blind suddenly gaining the ability to see but having very poor eyesight. Being able to see at all was already an improvement not to mention having 20/20 vision.

  A loud knock at his door jolted him from his existential contemplation.

  “Xiao Yun! You in there brother Yun?” The booming voice was unmistakable. Wang Jun. Or as practically everyone in Fallen Star City called him, Fatty Wang.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Xiao Yun heaved another sigh and mumbled, “Come in.”

  The door creaked open and Wang Jun filled the doorway. His round face beaming, amplified by the dim light filtering in from the corridor.

  "Xiao Yun! Still moping by the window like a lovesick maiden?" Fatty Wang boomed, his voice as round and cheerful as his physique. Wang Jun was Xiao Yun’s childhood friend, a constant cheerful presence in a life filled with setbacks.

  “Xiao Yun, you look like you’re about to sprout roots!” Wang Jun chuckled.

  “Still moping around? Aiya, you need to lighten up! We should enjoy ourselves when we can. Life is short, especially in this vibrant world we live in!” He winked, as if “vibrant world” was a euphemism for “world where you might get eaten by a sentient mountain goat.”

  Xiao Yun blinked slowly. “Good evening to you as well, Wang Jun.” He wasn’t exactly in the mood for Wang Jun’s brand of boisterous optimism.

  “Evening? Bah! It’s practically night! And a beautiful night at that! Look at that moon! Magnificent, isn’t it?” Fatty Wang gestured dramatically towards the window, which framed a chunk of the enormous purplish colored moon. It was very beautiful in an exotic way.

  “Anyway, I’m here for a vital and extremely important reason!” He puffed out his chest.

  Xiao Yun raised an eyebrow, a feat that required considerable effort given his current mood. “Oh?”

  Fatty Wang waddled into the room, his ample frame somehow managing to navigate the cluttered space without knocking anything over. He was as always, a picture of cheerful disarray. His robes slightly askew, his hair tousled and a wide grin plastered across his face.

  He smiled, revealing a set of teeth that could probably crack nuts and clasped Xiao Yun on the shoulder with a force that made him wince.

  “Indeed!” Fatty Wang leaned forward, his breath smelling vaguely of onions and alcohol.

  "Come on brother! It’s been ages! You haven’t stepped foot outside this gloomy mausoleum in weeks. Let’s go have a drink! My treat!" Fatty Wang clapped Xiao Yun on the shoulder again, the force of it nearly sending him tumbling off the cushion. "Red Lotus Pavilion, remember? They have a new batch of Peach Blossom wine. It’s supposed to have a heavenly aroma!" Fatty Wang declared, his voice echoing in the hallway.

  Red Lotus Pavilion…Red Lotus?...Courtesan House? Brothel? He vaguely recalled some hazy memories filtering through from the original Xiao Yun, images of garish decorations, overly made-up women and the distinct smell of cheap perfume and even cheaper alcohol. It was exactly the kind of place a hormone-addled teenager of this world would frequent and apparently, the original Xiao Yun and Fatty Wang had been regulars.

  The realization struck Xiao Yun with the force of a physical blow. The original Xiao Yun, trying to forget his troubles, had apparently found solace in the company of courtesans. And Fatty Wang was simply continuing their old routines, unaware that the Xiao Yun he knew was gone, replaced by a bewildered office worker who still dreamed of playing video games and reading his comic books from the comfort of his own small apartment.

  Xiao Yun swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. He stared at Fatty Wang, at his genuinely cheerful face, at the unwavering friendship in his eyes. Turning him down and explaining everything was unthinkable. How could he explain reincarnation, transmigration and the utter absurdity of his current situation to someone like Fatty Wang? How could he explain that they were inside a novel he had read a long while ago? He’d probably think he had finally lost his mind, and frankly Xiao Yun was starting to question his own sanity as well.

  “Red Lotus Pavilion?” Xiao Yun echoed weakly, trying to mimic the tone he vaguely recalled the original Xiao Yun using, a mixture of nonchalance and world-weariness.

  Fatty Wang’s grin widened. “The one and only! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already? Remember Mei’er? She was asking after you last time I was there.” He winked, a gesture that was both comical and oddly endearing on Fatty Wang.

  Mei’er. Another hazy memory surfaced. A pretty face, a practiced smile and a conversation that Xiao Yun in his reincarnated state couldn’t quite grasp. He felt a pang of discomfort. Brothels, ahem, Courtesan Houses…. they were a world away from his busy office life and his escapist hobbies, and honestly not something he had ever frequented back on Earth. Yet here he was, being invited to one by his best friend in a fantasy world that felt increasingly like a fever dream.

  He looked around his decaying room, at the layers of dust clinging to the once-fine furniture, at the cracks of spiderwebbing across the walls. Maybe a night out wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe escaping these echoing walls, even for a few hours was exactly what he needed. And who knew, maybe Peach Blossom wine in this world tasted better than lukewarm vending machine coffee. Probably did. But going to a brothel?

  Xiao Yun massaged his temples. “Wang Jun.” he spoke hesitantly, trying to find the right words. “Are you sure? I mean, isn’t it a bit early for ‘Red Lotus’?”

  Fatty Wang waved a dismissive hand, his chins wobbling. “Early? Nonsense! It’s always the right time for Red Lotus! Besides-” he lowered his voice to a low whisper, leaning in so close that Xiao Yun could smell the faint aroma of pickled vegetables and something vaguely fermented. “I heard they got a new batch of talented performers. Rumor has it, one of them is from beyond the prefecture!”

  Xiao Yun stared blankly. Foreign talented performers. In his past life that would have meant a new band, some pop group or something like a travelling theatre troupe, hell, even an actual circus. Here it probably meant something else entirely.

  He sighed internally. He really didn't want to go to a brothel. The idea was unappealing to say the least. He was still grappling with being in a different body, in a different world, with the very real possibility of suddenly being attacked by monstrous beasts or rogue cultivators. Spending an afternoon in a place of questionable hygiene while surrounded by giggling girls who could be minors (and around half his mental age, given he was technically almost thirty) was not high on his list of priorities. The standards of this world might be different, but he had his own sense of decency.

  But then he looked at Fatty Wang’s eager, puppy-dog eyes. Wang Jun was genuinely excited. He was the only connection Xiao Yun had to this world, the only person who seemed to treat him like a friend, even if it was the friend he used to be. And the original Xiao Yun, from what he could glean from the fragmented memories had relied heavily on Wang Jun’s cheerful companionship. Not like he had much of a choice, considering how coldly his clan treated him. Maybe going along with this would be a way to understand his predecessor better, to fit into this strange new life, even if it meant enduring a slightly uncomfortable night out.

  Besides, he rationalized, it was better than moping in his room staring at the peeling paint and contemplating the very unusual circumstances he’d found himself in. Also, going to a brothel didn’t necessarily mean he had to take part in every service they offered. He could listen to some music and drink some wine. Additionally, putting aside his conscience and ethical concerns, he highly doubted that “protection” existed in this world, so far it had been a miracle Xiao Yun and Wang Jun hadn’t caught any STD’s, and he wasn’t looking to get the cultivation world equivalent of syphilis. So, his plan was to do some sightseeing and strictly participating in food, drink and music.

  “Alright, alright, alrigth.” Xiao Yun conceded, forcing a smile. “You got me. Red Lotus it is. But you said you’re paying right?”

  Fatty Wang’s face lit up like a lantern. “Paying? Of course! My treat my brother! Today we celebrate…. uh… friendship yes! And new beginnings!” He clapped Xiao Yun on the back again, nearly sending him stumbling, and propelled him out of the room and down the creaky stairs.

  They walked through the dimly lit corridors of the Xiao Clan compound, emerging into the bustling streets of Fallen Star City. Most people in the clan had retreated into their quarters already, aside from the guards at the crumbling entrance of the estate, they didn’t see anyone. The two bored-looking guards in makeshift armor didn’t even bother to ask Xiao Yun where he was going, as it was obvious from their point of view.

  The city at night was a vibrant tapestry of sounds and smells. The air was thick with the aroma of street food, roasted meats, spicy noodles and something vaguely floral he couldn’t quite place. Lanterns of various colors illuminated stalls overflowing with medicinal herbs, strange artifacts and gleaming weaponry. Cultivators in flowing robes strolled past, the faint shimmer of spiritual energy occasionally flickering around them. It was a fascinating experience. For Xiao Yun especially, since reading about such places in novels and seeing vague descriptions in comics/manhuas was nothing compared to actually experiencing the live atmosphere.

  As they walked through the dusty streets of Fallen Star City, Fatty Wang chattered incessantly. He regaled Xiao Yun with tales of local gossip, rumors of bandits in the mountains, rare spirit beast sightings and speculation about the upcoming city-wide martial arts competition. Xiao Yun listened with half an ear, still trying to process everything.

  He was in a cultivation world inside a novel he was barely familiar with. He was stuck at the third circle of Qi Gathering, a stage that according to his book knowledge was basically the beginner level, barely above a normal mortal without a cultivation base. The original Xiao Yun had apparently plateaued there years ago not improving no matter what pill he took and what method he used, his cultivation spirit crushed further after his parents disappeared in the infamous Nine Yin Abyss. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for this past version of himself. No wonder he’d given up and sought solace in brothels and drink. It was his way of escaping reality in a world without video games and comic books.

  “Hey Xiao Yun you listening?” Fatty Wang nudged him with an elbow, breaking his train of thought. “I was asking, what do you think about Old Man Li’s new batch of spirit wine? Heard it’s got a kick like a startled mule!”

  Spirit wine. Right, of course. Alcohol with extra cultivation juice? This world was truly bizarre.

  “Sounds interesting.” Xiao Yun said noncommittally.

  They soon reached Red Lotus Pavilion, a gaudily decorated building that seemed to clash aggressively with the muted tones of the surrounding city. Red lanterns hung unsteadily from the eaves and the air was thick with the scent of incense and something floral that didn’t quite mask the underlying stale smell.

  As they stepped inside, the din of drunken laughter and cloying music washed over them. Women in brightly colored revealing robes were flitting between tables, their smiles practiced and their eyes sharp. It was exactly as Xiao Yun had imagined or rather recalled through the hazy remnants of the original's memories.

  Fatty Wang however, seemed completely in his element. He bellowed a greeting to a passing waitress, slapped a few backs, and steered Xiao Yun towards a relatively secluded table in a corner. As they sat down, a woman with overly rouged cheeks and a dazzling smile approached.

  “Welcome, young masters! What can I get for you today?” she purred, her eyes lingering a little longer on Xiao Yun, perhaps intrigued by his quiet demeanor and surprisingly handsome features, even if he was currently wearing the slightly dazed expression of a man who had been plucked from one reality and unceremoniously dumped in another.

  Fatty Wang ordered a pot of the supposed ‘spirit wine’ and a platter of snacks that looked suspiciously like they’d been sitting out for a while. Xiao Yun just sat there observing the scene with quiet interest. This was his life now. Drinking spirit wine in a questionable brothel with his chubby, overly enthusiastic best friend, while still feeling like he was one wrong step away from accidentally triggering some ancient cultivation technique or offending a powerful sect elder. Well, hopefully not the latter.

  He took a tentative sip of the pink colored spirit wine when it arrived. It tasted surprisingly like cheap rice wine mixed with fruit juice, but with a slightly metallic aftertaste. He decided to stick to the snacks. Maybe this bizarre, chaotic and ridiculous world of the novel wouldn't be so bad, or so he hoped.