Chapter 2: Where the Hell Is My Cheat Code?!

It had been a week since I woke up in this absurd fantasy world, and so far, no one had tried to kill me.

Which was… suspicious.

I didn’t trust it.

Not the serene mountain views, not the suspiciously respectful clan members bowing every time I blinked, and definitely not the fact that I, a seventeen-year-old with the combat experience of a wet towel, was apparently the Patriarch of eight hundred martial artists.

Either this was the world’s longest prank or I’d woken up in a sect-themed fever dream.

And still—still!—the strangest part wasn’t that I had two sets of memories, or that I was now some kid named Shen Liang with a suspicious ten-year nap to his name. No.

The strangest part was that I had nothing.

No system. No cheat code. No glowing status screen. Not even a suspicious voice in my head.

Just… me. And my rapidly unraveling sanity.

Currently, I was lounging on a stone platform in a quiet corner of the Shen Clan compound, where the mist rolled in like dramatic background ambiance. The mountains stretched far and wide, and the air smelled like pine and mild disappointment.

Aunt Mei had finally let me out of bed after two days, after I passed what I can only describe as a “Does He Still Know How to Eat Rice” exam. Since then, I’d been pretending to observe the clan’s routines while quietly spiraling into existential dread.

I had checked.

I had meditated. (Nothing.)

Tried the classic “Status” call. (Silence.)

Even pricked my finger and bled onto an ancient stone tablet just in case. (Turned out to be the laundry ledger.)

I’d even tried yelling out random anime tropes, just to test.

“System, activate!”

“Golden Finger! Go!”

“Install cultivation app!”

Nothing. Not even a beep. The only thing I activated was a passing junior disciple’s concern for my mental health.

He offered me pickled radish.

I sighed deeply, lying back on the warm stone like a man awaiting divine punishment.

“Alright,” I muttered to the clouds above me. “Let’s think rationally.”

Point A: I died.

Point B: I woke up in a new body with a soft bed, fancy robes, and people calling me ‘Patriarch.’

Point C: I have not unlocked a system, artifact, or suspicious inner beast with sexy voice.

“Which means either I’m broken,” I said aloud, “or someone up there really hates me.”

That thought hit harder than it should have.

Because here’s the thing: transmigration novels always had a thing. A cheat, a hack, something to balance out the sudden career change from ‘spy tortured to death’ to ‘teenager leading a martial clan on a mountain.’

Where was mine?

Was I the first person in transmigration history to get reincarnated without benefits?

No plot armor? No plot item? Not even an ironic title like Divine Trash Collector?

In frustration, I sat up and slapped a nearby rock. “Come on! Give me something!”

A chunk of stone broke off and rolled down the slope.

I watched it tumble for ten full seconds.

“Well,” I muttered, “at least I’m strong enough to lose arguments with geology.”

The worst part? I could feel that something was off. My qi didn’t flow right. When I tried to meditate, it was like trying to untangle wires in the dark while someone whispered spoilers in my ear.

I even heard one elder whisper to another that I had a “very rare constitution.”

Which, translated, probably meant “congratulations, this boy is the spiritual equivalent of a cracked teapot.”

Later that day, I snuck into the clan’s library. If I wasn’t getting a system, maybe I could brute-force my way through knowledge.

It took me exactly ten minutes to realize 80% of the books were about either:

1. Mountain-crushing cultivation techniques that required biceps the size of temple bells,
   
   
2. Shen Wuji’s legendary battles (which read like a teenager’s power fantasy fanfic),
   
   
3. And dietary guides for optimal dantian development. (Spoiler: no sugar, no spices, no joy.)
   
   

I opened a scroll titled “Introduction to the Path of the Earth-Breaking Fist.”

First line:

Step One: Be born with a spine made of iron and a heart that fears nothing.

I closed it immediately.

“Okay,” I muttered. “Plan B.”

Plan B was sitting in a meditation pose, staring at the ground, and quietly panicking.

“What if I’m the only transmigrator who’s just… normal?” I whispered. “No hacks. No potential. Just vibes and paranoia.”

Was this karma?

Was this because I pretended to be an orphan during a mission to gain sympathy?

Or because I replaced a senator’s real wine with diluted mouthwash that one time?

If so, then fair. But this punishment felt excessive.

Eventually, I lay back on the floor of the library and just stared at the ceiling.

Aunt Mei would probably find me here and assume I was deep in cultivation. Perfect. Let her believe the Patriarch was channeling heavenly insight while I was actually spiraling in confusion.

I closed my eyes.

No system. No secrets. No power surges. No “You Are the Chosen One.”

Just Chen Wei.

In a seventeen-year-old’s body.

Leading a clan.

In the middle of a magical mountain range.

With absolutely no idea what the hell was going on.

I opened one eye and sighed.

“…Goddamn it. Even the radish guy has better qi flow than me.”

[End of Chapter 2]