Unfortunate Transmigrator

38

Weaving Fate

I

“None here, either,” Hao Zhen said, putting down the jade slip he had been holding. He looked up, already gathering his spiritual power to pull something else from the pile into his hand, and saw that there was nothing there anymore. “Oh.”

He glanced at Tian Jin and Lan Yue, who were both sitting on the ground near him. Tian Jin had a sword in his hand, whereas Lan Yue had a spiritual stone. They each held the item to their eye briefly, looking it over. Tian Jin was the first to shake his head, Lan Yue following suit a moment later.

“Well, it seems like that’s it, then,” Hao Zhen said. He then used his spiritual power to move the jade slip to one of the piles beside them, where they had put all the other jade slips that had already been checked for tracking matrixes. “No tracking matrixes found.” That wasn’t much of a surprise.

Tian Jin and Lan Yue also put their items away. The sword went to the side of the stack of magical items, right beside the jade slip pile, whereas the spiritual stone went to the small mountain of spiritual stones. Altogether, they had separated the spoils into five groups: magical artifacts, pills, talismans, jade slips, and spiritual stones.

“We still need to check the jade slips for anything related to Du Qing, and we should also go over each of the pills and talismans to determine what exactly they do, but for now…” Hao Zhen sighed. “For now, I think there’s a conversation we should have.”

He didn’t need to say what exactly the conversation was about. Tian Jin straightened up, and Lan Yue crossed her arms over her chest.

“Indeed,” she said, motioning for him to continue with a nod.

Hao Zhen steeled himself. While they were searching for tracking matrixes, he had gone over one last time what he’d say. He was fairly confident he’d be able to convince Tian Jin and Lan Yue. The problem was that he didn’t know how, exactly, they’d take the revelation.

There was also the question of whether something would happen if he shared his suspicions with them—not in terms of some reaction on their part, but some kind of backlash from the world itself. Then again, considering that nothing had happened despite everything he had done so far, maybe he was worrying over nothing.

“All right,” Hao Zhen said. “For starters, I want you to just listen to what I have to say. It’ll sound pretty unbelievable, but I’ll answer all of your questions once I’m done.” Tian Jin promptly gave him a nod, Lan Yue doing the same shortly afterward, though rather hesitantly.

“Back when you used your spiritual skill on me, after Ke Li tried to command you to kill me,” Hao Zhen said, nodding to Tian Jin, “I passed out. When I woke up the next day, I realized that I had, somehow, remembered my previous life.” Lan Yue blinked owlishly at that, and she opened her mouth as if to say something, before frowning and closing it again. Tian Jin, on the other hand, simply gave him a blank look.

“The thing is, in my previous life, I didn’t live in this world.” Or even in this universe, for that matter. He did his best to ignore both of his teammates’ looks of disbelief.

They were probably fine with the idea he had reincarnated. It was commonly agreed that people reincarnated when they died. He didn’t know how—or even if—that actually happened, but at least reincarnation wasn’t an alien concept to them. Another world, though? Maybe it was because he was new to the magical side of this world, but he had yet to hear anything about there being other worlds or universes besides this one.

“Back there, magic, cultivation, and monsters didn’t exist in reality.” He paused, then added, “Everyone was a graysoul, in a way.” What he’d be saying would probably be really alien to them, so he had to do his best to put everything in terms they could understand. “Those things did, however, exist in fiction. In books. Fantasy books. More importantly, there was a… subdivision of fantasy known as cultivation fantasy.”

He looked straight at Tian Jin and Lan Yue, firmly meeting their gazes, doing his best to convey honesty. “Cultivation novels were stories set in a world much like the one we’re currently in, with cultivation, spiritual energy, and magical organizations.”

He then stopped speaking, giving Tian Jin and Lan Yue a moment to process all of what he had said. They both looked like they wanted to say something, but still held themselves back. “Cultivation fantasy originated in a country called China, and the genre itself was mostly based on Chinese culture, mythology, and philosophy. Not only that… back in my old world, most countries had their own language, and the language of China, Chinese, is almost identical to the Common Tongue. All of our names, in fact, would be considered perfectly normal Chinese names.”

Hao Zhen sighed. “Basically, what I’m trying to say is that the world we’re in, well… It’s almost identical to the setting of a cultivation novel. As if that wasn’t enough…” Hao Zhen frowned. This was probably the most important part, and he reckoned it’d be best to get it over with quickly. “We, the people of this world, often act just like the characters of those novels. On top of that, a lot of things that have happened to us, so far, seem to be following the plot of your typical cultivation novel.”

Hao Zhen took a moment to go over everything he had said so far, making sure he hadn’t missed anything, before nodding to Tian Jin and Lan Yue. “You can ask your questions now.” There was still a lot he’d have to go over, but he reckoned that he’d first have to convince his two teammates that what he had already said was the truth before proceeding.

To his surprise, neither Tian Jin nor Lan Yue spoke up immediately. Especially surprising was Lan Yue’s silence, considering she had looked like she had wanted to say something several times throughout his explanation. It was Tian Jin who spoke up first.

“That does explain the way you’ve been acting,” Tian Jin said, nodding at him. The other boy’s brow was furrowed, his expression still one of uncertainty, though he didn’t appear as confused as before. “It’s hard… to believe, but it makes sense, I think.”

Hao Zhen blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice. “You believe me?” Hao Zhen asked. The instant rejection—or at least heavy suspicion—was nowhere to be found. He had thought he’d be met with a strong rejection, that he’d have to spend a long time trying to prove to them he was telling the truth, but that didn’t seem to be the case, for some reason.

Lan Yue shrugged. “You seem to be telling the truth, and as Tian Jin said, it does explain a lot of things—not just about you, but also about the world. When you interrogated the inner disciple just now, and his reaction… Not to mention the many odd occurrences in my life so far… It fits.” She fell silent, adopting a distant look.

It fits, Hao Zhen thought to himself, still a little baffled. He tried to consider this situation from their perspective. Maybe it made sense to them, logically, if they had had some suspicions about what was going on their entire life. Still, he believed that if he were in their place, he’d have been far more skeptical about what he was being told. Then again, so far, both Tian Jin and Lan Yue had shown themselves fairly open to new ideas.

Lan Yue frowned, drawing him out of his musings. “Something still doesn’t make sense, however,” she said. “If I understood you correctly, you’re implying that we aren’t in control of our own actions? That some kind of invisible power is controlling us?”

“Ah. That.” Free will. Hao Zhen had pondered quite a lot on that since regaining his memories, and Lan Yue’s revelation on the magical cloud, when they had been on the way to the cave, had shed some light on the issue, further consolidating his ideas. “I believe that’s not necessarily the case. Not always, at least. As far as I can tell, there’s some higher force influencing us—but only when it needs to. I guess you can say that it’s trying to steer us in a certain way? And that it intervenes when we start to deviate from that path.”

He nodded at Lan Yue. “What you said before you revealed your true identity, about other people seemingly ignoring odd behavior from you—I think that was because, had they actually noticed it, that would have led to things developing in a different direction. The same goes for you, Tian Jin. In my case, I’d say that for most of my life, I have been in control of my actions. The same went for my parents and virtually everyone I knew before joining the sect.”

Hao Zhen closed his eyes, taking a moment to put his thoughts in order. “I think I can actually count on two hands the number of times I acted… well, out of character. The first time was shortly after my father’s death, after I ran away from home, and decided to join the sect. Prior to that, I don’t think I ever really thought about cultivation or becoming a cultivator before. Later, after joining the sect, I also don’t believe I was under the influence of this higher power or anything most of the time, either. I think that really only became a problem when I received the jade slip for the mission in the Gentle Green Valley.” He nodded to himself. “As far as I can tell, from that moment onward, up to when I remembered my previous life, I wasn’t acting as myself, as if I couldn’t really think properly. It was as if my thoughts and perceptions were being… twisted. Altered, at least temporarily.”

Once again, he gave Tian Jin and Lan Yue some time to go over his words, but Lan Yue only needed a few moments before she asked, “But what about us?” She asked, motioning toward Tian Jin with her hand. “I’ve never experienced something like that, and from what I understand, neither did Tian Jin.”

Tian Jin nodded his head. “I don’t believe that has happened to me, either,” he said, his expression contemplative.

“I believe you two are immune to it, somehow,” Hao Zhen said. “I’m not quite sure why that is the case, or how. Though I think… that might be related to just what kind of character I believe you are. Earlier, I said that the events so far seemed to follow the plot of a cultivation novel. Well, cultivation novels have protagonists, and I believe that’s what you are,” Hao Zhen said, looking at Tian Jin. “The way you act, your absurd talent, and more importantly, everything that has happened to you so far—all of that is pointing towards you being the protagonist of this world.”

“That…” Tian Jin trailed off, shaking his head. “That doesn’t sound quite right. I…” He trailed off again. “Are you sure?” Tian Jin didn’t seem like he knew what to think of the situation, his expression conflicted.

“Fairly,” Hao Zhen said. He wondered what was going on in the other boy’s head.

“What about me?” Lan Yue spoke up, and Hao Zhen quickly shifted his attention to her. She was looking at him expectantly—but there was also something dark to her gaze, a subtle threat.

Hao Zhen cringed a little. Thankfully, he had already been expecting this question. “You should be one too,” he said, schooling his expression. “Some cultivation novels I’ve read had multiple protagonists—and even if it weren’t for that, there’s no reason why this world can’t have multiple protagonist-like individuals.”

Hao Zhen hoped he sounded and looked convincing, as he was pretty certain that what he had just said wasn’t the case. Although he had, initially, entertained the idea of Lan Yue being another protagonist, recent events had changed his mind. Almost everything that had happened so far seemed to revolve around Tian Jin. Instead, he was starting to reconsider the possibility of Lan Yue being a love interest—or rather, a rival-turned-love-interest.

As far as he could tell, her situation was the standard case of the proud undercover young lady developing a rivalry with the oblivious protagonist—which was a highly specific scenario, but still pretty common in cultivation novels, especially harem ones. There were some aspects of Lan Yue’s personality that did not quite fit the mold, but he could attribute that to her being somehow unaffected by the narrative force that seemed to control the world. Just like how there were some parts of how Tian Jin had acted—being so helpful toward him and so readily sharing his past—that didn’t fit a cultivation fantasy protagonist.

Of course, it wasn’t as if he could tell Lan Yue what he actually thought. He didn’t think she’d appreciate that particular theory of his.

Sure enough, Lan Yue relaxed a little, her expression losing some of its tightness. Tian Jin, on the other hand, didn’t seem to be quite over his internal conflict just yet.

“Why… why do you think that this might be happening?” Tian Jin asked. “You mentioned some sort of unseen force, but what exactly could it be?”

“I honestly don’t have any clue,” Hao Zhen said, shaking his head. “There are just way too many unknowns. What I do know is that my transmigration here is probably related to what’s going on—and that the same goes for you and the fact that the world treats you as if you were the protagonist of a cultivation novel.” Hao Zhen leaned forward a little. “For the time being, I don’t think there’s any way we can try to find out, either—or at least I can’t think of any other avenues we can explore.”

After a moment of deliberation, he added, “Usually, in cultivation novels, when there’s something about the world that just doesn’t make sense, some overarching mystery, then the truth is usually revealed at the end of the story—at the end of the protagonist’s journey. And that’s pretty much what I’m betting on: that if we follow the apparent plot of the world to its completion, we might just discover what exactly is going on.” Hao Zhen paused. “Or, at the very least, we’ll have grown powerful enough to seek the truth ourselves somehow.”

In cultivation novels, higher realms of cultivation typically dealt a lot with the cultivator’s understanding of reality, so Hao Zhen also figured that they might be able to discover something that way. Considering even at their current level, they were already interacting with heavenly laws to comprehend spiritual skills, he believed that was a reasonable assumption to make.

“I see,” Tian Jin said, slowly nodding his head. He was still frowning, so Hao Zhen reckoned there was a but. “However, I don’t think I’m comfortable with… well, the way you’re putting things. It makes me feel like I’m inside a story, and… I don’t think I can accept that.”

Hao Zhen could definitely see what he was talking about. It probably cheapened his experiences, in a way. There was also his clan’s destruction, and to think of an event like that in terms of a cultivation novel… It was no wonder this kind of perspective didn’t sit well with the body.

“Well, maybe we can try to think of this in another way?” he offered. “Hmmm. If I’m right, and the people around us are being manipulated, somehow, into acting like the characters of a cultivation novel, then I guess we can say they’re being… altered? Changed? No.” He frowned.

Then an idea occurred to him, and he nodded his head. “Maybe we should think in terms of events? Of fate? It’s as if your presence is somehow shaping… or rather, weaving fate.” The threads of fate were a pretty common motif in fantasy—as well as mythology. “Yes, weaving,” he repeated, looking up. “And considering things seem to revolve around you, as if you were weaving the world, warping it, I guess we could refer to you as a… Weaver? And everyone else as Woven?”

“Weaver?” Tian Jin’s frown deepened, his perfect features becoming a little warped. “I’m not— I’m not the one weaving fate, as you put it.” He seemed affronted at that notion.

“No, but it’s as if you were,” Hao Zhen said, shaking his head. “Your presence, I mean. As if the higher force is acting on a radius of some sort around you.”

Tian Jin’s expression relaxed slightly. That seemed more acceptable to him. “I… see. And what would you be, then?”

“Un… Unweavable?” Hao Zhen said, testing the word. “Unweavable,” he repeated. It sounded fitting. “Yes. Weaver, Woven, and Unweavable. You’re a Weaver, I’m an Unweavable, and you…” He looked at Lan Yue, trailing off.

“… am a Weaver, yes?”

“Right,” Hao Zhen said. He was actually uncertain about what exactly he was. Tian Jin was definitely a Weaver, following this new system, and he was certainly an Unweavable. Lan Yue didn’t seem to have done any… Weaving, however. The fact that people usually failed to notice her odd behavior could be an indication of that, but there was also the chance that if they had noticed her oddities, they could have done something that would have affected Tian Jin’s trajectory—his Weave, Hao Zhen figured, going by the new terminology—later on. Butterfly effect and all that.

What was clear was that, so far, everything seemed to revolve around Tian Jin, and not her. Nevertheless, there was no need to needlessly antagonize her by pointing this out.

He didn’t say anything else, nor did Lan Yue or Tian Jin, giving way to silence, each of them immersing themselves in their own thoughts.

As usual, Hao Zhen found himself pondering the possibilities. This new way of looking at the world–of properly defining what was going on—had given him some ideas, which led to all sorts of questions popping up in his head.

Would any action that had people deviating from their supposed archetypes provoke a bout of Weaving, or did it only happen when it’d directly concern the fulfillment of the Weave in some way?

He had seen evidence of both so far. When he questioned the inner disciples, for instance, they remained acting like cultivation novel antagonists even though events had already deviated from the plot. Were they being the target of Weaving at that time, or had they simply been conditioned to act that way? Maybe it was similar to how, in the Glistening Stone Forest, he had dismissed the hunch that he was forgetting something—which had almost led to a misunderstanding with Lan Yue—even though he was already Unweavable at that time.

More importantly, he also didn’t know whether the world would adapt—and how it’d do so. He had already caused some deviations from the intended course of events, as far as he could tell—the Weave—so what exactly would be the consequences of that?

And there was the question of what exactly made Lan Yue Unweavable, and—

Hao Zhen abruptly put a stop to those thoughts. Like he had told Tian Jin and Lan Yue, they didn’t have a way of ascertaining any of that right now, so it was useless to spend his time on that.

There were more pressing matters to consider right now. “All right,” Hao Zhen said, clapping his hands. Both Tian Jin and Lan Yue snapped out of their daze. “That should have given you an idea of what’s going on. Later, I’ll do my best to answer any other questions you might have, but for the time being…” He focused on Lan Yue. “There are some questions I’d like to ask myself about the situation at hand.”

It was time they decided what to do about Du Qing, and for that, he needed to get to the bottom of Lan Yue’s relationship with the prime disciple.