Chapter Three: Crossing Through Time

“If someone actually believed you, then there really would be ghosts in the world, wouldn’t there?”

It seemed that in just this brief moment, Zhang Xuan’s credibility in this man’s eyes had plummeted.

“My surname is Tong. You can call me Master Tong, though with your personality, I’m sure you’ll end up calling me Old Tong anyway. It doesn’t matter.”

Old Tong had already anticipated how Zhang Xuan would address him.

“Boy, go pack your things and come with me. I’ll look after you for a while. When you’re strong enough, you can go your own way.”

“I promised a villager I would take care of you for a time,” he said, watching Zhang Xuan’s blank reaction, and raised his voice slightly.

“What are you standing around for? Hurry up and gather your things…”

“Old Tong, you keep thinking I have something to pack. But I don’t have a penny to my name, not a single possession. If you turn my house upside down, you might not even find a cockroach—let alone anything valuable. At most, I could scour the village and see if anyone left me a treasure.”

Zhang Xuan spoke as he wandered toward other houses, hoping to scavenge something from the villagers.

“This kid is interesting. Sometimes I can’t understand what he’s saying, but at least with him on this road, it won’t be lonely. I checked his bones yesterday; he’s fit for martial arts. But who knows if he has any interest?”

Old Tong watched Zhang Xuan, waiting to see him come up empty-handed. He doubted Zhang Xuan would find anything in these houses.

Zhang Xuan entered one house, finding nothing but chaos—as though bandits had already pillaged the place. Nothing remained.

With a spirit of “might as well try,” Zhang Xuan ransacked the house again, but the result was the same.

After searching seven or eight houses, luck was unchanged.

He finally gave up and returned to Old Tong, asking, “Where is this place? What era is it? Everything here feels so out of place compared to what I remember.”

“This is Xuantu Commandery in Youzhou. The bandits who raided recently were probably the Wuwan, but I can’t say for sure. Nowadays, some even pretend to be Wuwan to loot. The imperial expedition to the north failed, so outsiders see the Central Plains as easy prey. Many northerners are raiding the heartland.”

Old Tong paused, watching Zhang Xuan’s reaction.

Seeing Zhang Xuan unmoved, he continued, “As for the era, it should be the Xiping period. I’ve heard the emperor is fond of selling offices. Beyond that, I don’t know; asking me is pointless.”

Old Tong spoke, inwardly scornful—how could this boy not even know where he was? It seemed he’d been scared witless. He felt some pity for him.

“Youzhou, Wuwan, Xiping, selling offices? Is this the Han dynasty?”

Zhang Xuan had been calm, but these words left him shocked, staring at Old Tong. Could it be he had crossed into another era?

He’d been struck so hard, and now he had transmigrated—how absurd!

Words couldn’t describe Zhang Xuan’s feelings at that moment.

He’d fantasized before about traveling to the Three Kingdoms period: forging through war, sleeping on the battlefield, collecting beauties, recruiting all the capable scholars and generals... but that was just a dream.

Old Tong stepped in front of Zhang Xuan and rapped his head sharply.

“Boy, what’s with that dreamy expression? Are you done packing yet? I’ll take care of you for a while, but later you’ll be on your own.”

Zhang Xuan rubbed his aching head.

“Old Tong, I just woke up, and haven’t gotten over my grief. Give me some time to process—don’t rush me. You can’t make tofu by rushing, right? Though you probably don’t know what tofu is.”

“Tofu?”

Old Tong was momentarily confused.

“Never mind. You always say things I don’t understand. I’m going to look around, maybe hunt something. One hour from now, we leave.”

“OK! Old Tong, I’ll take it easy for now.”

Zhang Xuan made a farewell gesture and watched Old Tong walk away.

Once Old Tong was gone, Zhang Xuan stood there, pondering the man’s words and their truth.

As a liberal arts graduate, Zhang Xuan had always been passionate about history—especially the Three Kingdoms. When not working or doing part-time jobs, he spent his time playing games like Romance of the Three Kingdoms and Dynasty Warriors.

He knew “Records of the Three Kingdoms,” “Romance of the Three Kingdoms,” and countless web novels inside out.

If Old Tong was right, this was the era of Emperor Ling of the Han—Liu Hong.

Emperor Ling of Han: Born in Hedong State, Jizhou (present-day Hebei), the eleventh emperor of the Eastern Han. Early in life, he inherited the title Marquis of Jie Du Pavilion. In the twelfth month of Yongkang Year, Emperor Huan died, and Liu Hong was chosen by the Dou family to succeed the throne, ascending in the first month of Jianning Year.

During most of his reign, he enforced the “partisan prohibition” and eunuch rule. He established the Western Garden, invented ways to extort money, and even sold offices for his own pleasure. Later, the Yellow Turban Rebellion broke out, and regions like Liangzhou fell into constant turmoil.

In the sixth year of Zhongping, Liu Hong died, posthumously named Emperor Xiaoling, buried in Wenling.

During his reign, he instigated the second “partisan disaster”; promoted eunuch rule, broke with tradition by appointing twelve “Regular Attendants”—famously Zhang Rang and Zhao Zhong.

He openly sold offices, allowing people to buy positions from “Marquis Within the Passes” down to subordinate posts in the Tiger Elite, Feathered Forest, and other departments.

He accepted Liu Yan’s advice to reinstate provincial governors, known as “abolishing history and establishing governors.” Liu Yan became Governor of Yizhou, Huang Wan of Yuzhou, and Liu Yu of Youzhou. The result: local warlords formed, and once appointed, governors like Liu Yan ceased to obey the court.

He created the Eight Captains of the Western Garden, led by Jian Shuo, to check Grand General He Jin’s military power.

All these measures gradually dragged the Han dynasty into the mire.

Zhang Xuan plopped down, yelping as he landed on a jagged stone—painful enough to prove he wasn’t dreaming.

He’d never imagined he could actually transmigrate one day!

But this setting left him troubled.

Should he choose to fight for dominance in the Three Kingdoms era, enduring blood and fire, gathering famous generals and beautiful women, and ultimately seize the imperial throne? Or should he live quietly as a commoner, enjoying a peaceful life?

Yet, under a toppled nest, how can any eggs remain unbroken? Transmigration is rare—how could Zhang Xuan settle to be an ordinary man?

He dismissed the second idea outright.

He pondered for a while—others who transmigrated always had some summoning system or cheat. Why did he get nothing at all?

Was his luck truly that bad?

In the end, Zhang Xuan returned to reality, deciding not to dwell on it. The more he thought, the more his head hurt. Survival came first.

He continued searching the ruined houses, hoping perhaps to stumble upon a cheat or even a treasure chest, or a god-level system.

These thoughts fired him with motivation.

Like the protagonist of Pokémon, Zhang Xuan searched house after house.

But reality was as stark as the difference between Mr. San and Sister Feng—besides a few torn garments, he found nothing.

Not a grain of rice, not even a cockroach, let alone a mouse.

Perhaps it was just the northern climate.