The small black pot simmered with short rib stew, enough for two hearty meals. The rich, meaty aroma mingled with smoke, filling every corner of the room.

  Ning grinned as he stirred with a wooden spoon, watching chunks of root vegetables rise and fall in the bubbling broth.

  "Twenty-four hours of braising", he thought smugly. "Finally. A perfect rib stew. Today’s a good day, hehe."

  Salivating ungracefully, he put down the pot from the stove and placed it on the table.

  Dinner~ Is~ Served~

  "Ah, right... my phone."

  Ning rose from his seat and turned toward the counter where he had casually placed his phone while cooking. As he approached, he reached out and touched the phone, causing it to suddenly light up with a notification.

  Ning glanced at his phone, and then, in an instant, everything seemed to explode.

  After that, all he could see was red as an overwhelming wave of dizziness washed over him.

  No! Not now! Twenty-four hours of braising and I don’t even get a bite?!

  As his consciousness slipped away, he swore.

  F*Ck, I WANT TO EAT MY STEW!!

  ...

  His eyelids were tightly shut, and his body felt heavy. He was lying on a hard surface, and a suffocating smell of smoke filled the air.

  *Cough*Cough*

  Fire?

  Wait, no, no, no, no-I couldn't die yet. I still had to eat that stew.

  Then suddenly, a cool chill washed away his dizziness as Ning stood up.

  Opening his eyes, he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. He found himself in a small cave with only a mat, stove, and cupboard.

  What had happened?

  Where was he?

  Seeing the unknown place, Ning couldn't help but question himself.

  He slowly suppressed the slight panic he felt inside and attempted to calm down.

  Ning observed his surroundings and didn't make hasty decisions.

  Instinct screamed to panic, but he wrestled it down. Running around blindly was how horror movie extras died. He’d watched enough “what not to do” clips to know better.

  So, he forced his breathing steady. Stay calm. Think.

  That was when the migraine hit.

  It was as if all the built-up pressure was released at once. Accompanying the pain was a series of memories that were utterly unfamiliar to him.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Ning's legs gave way, his eyes rolled back, and he fainted again.

  ...

  Ning's eyes slowly fluttered open, his mind swirling with a mix of disturbance and astonishment upon processing the information he had just absorbed.

  Transmigration. He had transmigrated into a different world.

  It was a clichéd plotline, straight out of the "I transmigrated to a different world" genre. He couldn't help but roll his eyes at the sheer predictability of it all. The memories he had glimpsed belonged to this new body he now inhabited.

  "F*ck, I was just going to eat some stew. How the hell did I transmigrate so suddenly?"

  He groaned, rubbing his throbbing temples. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to stay calm amidst the chaos in his head. Slowly, the fragmented memories began to connect, forming a clearer picture of the world he’d landed in.

  It was a world greatly resembling those of Xianxia and Wuxia novels. Here, cultivators harnessed the energy of heaven and earth to transcend their mortal limits.

  “The original owner was also called Ning. How creepy…” he muttered, his voice taking on an eerie tone before he shook off the unease. Curiosity soon replaced discomfort as he dug deeper into the memories.

  Ji Ning, son of the local martial arts master. Unlike cultivators, martial artists didn’t possess spiritual roots. They relied purely on physical techniques and discipline to survive in this world.

  A month ago, during a routine test, Ji Ning had been discovered to possess cultivation aptitude, a spiritual root. Among hundreds of people, finding even one such person was rare. Naturally, cultivation sects fought to recruit these rare talents to strengthen their ranks, and the original Ji Ning had mid-grade spiritual roots. So, he joined one of the sects.

  Unfortunately, his luck didn’t last. The moment he began his journey to cultivate, he suffered an extremely rare qi deviation and died on the spot.

  “Damn, this guy really choked at the starting line.”

  Recalling everything, Ning couldn’t help but feel a little pity. The original owner was truly unlucky.

  After a few minutes, he sighed and accepted the situation; there was really no choice. It wasn’t like he could just Ctrl+Z reality.

  From what he remembered, this world was very similar to the cultivation novels he used to read. It was a world full of danger, whether from monstrous beasts or humans themselves. A world that revolved around strength, ruled by the law of the jungle.

  Ning narrowed his eyes. Oddly enough, he wasn’t as panicked as he thought he would be. A little panic was natural, of course, but it was overshadowed by his growing interest in cultivation and the mysteries of this new world.

  Perhaps it was adrenaline pushing him through, but he didn’t mind. He had already decided to become a cultivator, the only viable path available to him that could change his situation. Whether it was to return to his original world, become a so-called immortal, or simply out of curiosity, he felt that he needed to learn and cultivate. Eventually, the answers would reveal themselves.

  Since he was already in this situation, panicking would do no good. It was best to adapt and play it by ear. And the first step was to accept his new identity.

  Taking a deep breath, he muttered to himself, “From this moment forth, I am Ji Ning.”

  A pause. His lips twitched.

  “But dammit… I still want my stew.”