Chapter 1 The System Arrived Three Thousand Years Early

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In the Grand Zhou Dynasty, within the Duke Protectorate’s estate, the Garden of Myriad Blossoms was a riot of color. Though it was only February, and the spring rains had just passed, the air was thick with the fragrance of earth, the surface of the lake rippling with gentle waves.

Cheng Guang gazed blankly at the distant lake, his eyes filled with helplessness and resignation.

“When will these days ever end?” he sighed.

He was a transmigrator.

There was no need to dwell on his previous life—he hadn’t lived badly, after all: a car, a house, and the luxury of being a layabout. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that transmigration would happen to him one day.

His new identity was neither particularly good nor bad. To put it simply, he was the heir of the Duke Protectorate, though with one caveat—he was a “fake.”

His name in this world was also Cheng Guang, just as in his previous life, but unlike the true heir, he had no courtesy name; the real heir was called Liunian.

At first, Cheng Guang assumed he was truly the Duke’s son—a scion of power and privilege in Grand Zhou, destined for a life of fine clothes, spirited horses, and idle amusements.

But before he could even set foot outside the manor, a woman in black appeared before him, asking whether he found his role as the heir comfortable.

Only then did the memories of this body come flooding back.

The original owner was merely a stable hand. Discovered by the real heir for his resemblance, he was secretly brought into the estate to serve as a stand-in.

The true heir was carefree and enjoyed roaming at will, but his noble status meant he couldn’t do as he pleased. Any outing could bring assassins from rival nations or political traps, so he needed someone with a similar appearance to act as his double.

Cheng Guang was just such an expendable tool—a face to confuse outsiders.

It was shattered.

His dream was shattered.

He was no true heir, but a perfectly ordinary stable hand, pretending to be the Duke’s son.

Until the real heir returned, he had to maintain the pretense.

At first, Cheng Guang thought he really was the heir, so he hadn’t worried much. But after learning the truth from the woman in black, he found everything awkward.

He was no actor, his skills at deception poor. If a friend of the heir invited him out and he was exposed, things could quickly get out of hand.

So, following Qingluan’s advice, he stopped going out, closed his doors to visitors, and cut off unnecessary contact with the outside world, obediently playing the part of the heir.

“Qingluan, when do you think the real heir will return?” he asked, tossing a pebble into the lake.

At the sound of his voice, a woman in black appeared behind him.

She was strikingly beautiful, with fair skin, moist red lips, and a shapely figure. Her long hair was neatly tied back, giving her a brisk, clean look. Clad in a fitted black outfit, she seemed both elegant and formidable.

This was Qingluan, the one who had shattered his dream.

Cheng Guang didn’t resent her; in fact, he was grateful she’d awakened him. Otherwise, if he’d truly believed himself the heir, he wouldn’t have known how he’d died when the truth came out.

At his question, Qingluan frowned slightly. “Few know where the real heir is. Though you’re only a stand-in, your life is far better than that of other servants. You have good food and drink—don’t overthink things.”

Cheng Guang nodded, sighed, and lay back on the grass, gazing at the sky.

“Qingluan, do you think I could cultivate?”

“Cultivate?” Qingluan was taken aback. She shook her head. “You’re already in your twenties. If you really wish to cultivate, it’s not impossible, but it’s much harder than for others, and the resources required are beyond your imagination.”

The implication was clear: cultivation was not something a mere stand-in should even consider.

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Cheng Guang’s spirits sank even lower.

This world offered many paths of cultivation. For humanity, there were only two mainstream paths: the Martial Way and the Spiritual Way. Only through these could one break the limits of the world and reach the peak.

The Spiritual Way depended on innate talent and was said to be reserved for the imperial family. Almost all cultivators in the world walked the Martial Path.

As one of the Four Great Dynasties, Grand Zhou stood at the pinnacle in both the number and the strength of its warriors.

Within Grand Zhou, the Duke Protectorate was especially revered.

The Duke Protector, Cheng Shiyuan, had reached the tenth realm of the Martial Path—the realm of the Celestial.

Aside from the emperor, he was one of only two Celestials in the entire dynasty.

He resided year-round at the border, suppressing the Eightfold Demon Domain and the Tenfold Sea of Demons, preventing their monsters from flooding into Grand Zhou.

Because of his status and contributions, the Duke Protectorate enjoyed unimaginable wealth and resources.

If Cheng Guang were truly the heir, age would mean nothing; if he wished to cultivate, he would have only to ask.

But he was not truly the heir.

No matter how abundant the resources of the estate, he had no right to use them.

There was nothing to be done.

It was deeply frustrating.

He had crossed into such a wondrous world of cultivation, only to be unable to walk the path, forced to watch from the sidelines.

Worse yet, he was compelled to serve as someone else’s stand-in—at any moment, he could be exposed, and then even his life would be at risk.

Cheng Guang gazed pensively at the sky, blue as if washed clean, his thoughts tangled. To be fair, his situation was not pitiable; even as a stand-in, few knew the truth, and he was respected everywhere and well cared for.

For a servant, he had reached the heights of what one could wish for.

Still, he was a transmigrator, not a native. He had dreams of his own.

His dream was shattered, but not completely.

“Life is unpredictable, like sausage wrapped in intestine…” he muttered. No sooner had he finished speaking than a sharp pain stabbed his head, and a cold mechanical voice sounded in his ear.

[Detected: Host has achieved Celestial realm. System binding in progress…]

At the sound of that cold, metallic voice, Cheng Guang’s eyes filled with tears.

A system!

The golden finger every transmigrator dreams of!

You’ve finally arrived!

He was so moved he nearly wept. But upon listening carefully to the system’s words, he forced back his tears.

“What nonsense? Celestial realm!? I haven’t even reached the first level, the Foundation Realm. You say I’m already at the Celestial realm!?”

He raged inwardly, convinced the system was malfunctioning.

This system had arrived at least three thousand years too early!

The system paid no heed to his thoughts, continuing its binding process.

A moment later—

[Binding complete.]

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[On your first day as a Celestial, the Four Realms tremble. Countless come to congratulate you, but only the Grand Zhou Empress remains indifferent. You understand she has reason for her pride—Wu Ling, Empress of Grand Zhou, achieved the Celestial realm before thirty, a feat you cannot hope to match. Yet, as the heir of the Duke Protectorate, you must make her regard you with new eyes.]

[Newbie Task: Defeat the Grand Zhou Empress!]

[Reward: Ancient Imperial Bloodline of the Great Xia Dynasty.]

[Note 1: The system’s tasks are not compulsory. Completion is optional and there is no penalty.]

[Note 2: Subsequent tasks will be generated based on the host’s progress. The system bears no responsibility for the outcome.]

Lines of text flashed before Cheng Guang’s eyes.

With just a glance, he felt his vision going dark.

The Grand Zhou Empress!

You want me to fight the Grand Zhou Empress—and defeat her!?

She’s someone who can battle a Celestial, and right now, I’m just a nobody—how could I possibly beat her?

Though the system claims, “I won’t force you, do as you will,” it’s the classic girlfriend’s tone: Be sensible, child. If you don’t do as I say, you’ll face the consequences.

Cheng Guang’s spirit collapsed; his face turned completely ashen.

This task was simply impossible for him now.

He had no cultivation whatsoever—how could he fight the Grand Zhou Empress?

Had the system bound itself to the wrong person? Did it mistake him for the real heir?

Not only had this wretched system arrived at the wrong time, it had chosen the wrong host!

As Cheng Guang fumed inwardly, a thought struck him. His expression froze, and he quickly turned to Qingluan.

“Qingluan, what’s the current emperor’s name?”

Cheng Guang asked urgently.

“The current emperor is Wu Shang. The heir usually calls him Uncle. If you meet him, don’t get it wrong,” Qingluan replied casually, glancing at him without much thought.

As the heir’s stand-in, Cheng Guang had to handle any urgent matters in the heir’s absence. Remembering the names and faces of everyone around the heir was part of his daily training.

Since the emperor seldom met the heir alone, Qingluan hadn’t thought it necessary for Cheng Guang to memorize the emperor’s name and appearance—until now.

Hearing her answer, Cheng Guang was stunned.

Wu Shang…

Uncle…

A man?

So, the future Grand Zhou Empress, Wu Ling, mentioned in the system’s prompt, wasn’t on the throne yet—she hadn’t grown into her role!

Cheng Guang’s eyes lit up, realizing he had spotted a loophole.