The Martial Saint Started from Scavenging

Eastern Region, Water Dragon Crossing.

As dusk settled, Ye Sheng, carrying a half-baked basket of damp firewood, walked back along the boardwalk.

Shuilongdu is one of the most remote ferry crossings within 300 li of the Duanlong River. It has a total of 17 households, most of whom are migrant workers like Ye Sheng.

The so-called "migrant households" were lowly people who were confined to the barbarian lands by the Da Yuan Dynasty. They had no land or registration, lived by the water, and made a living by ferrying people, doing odd jobs, and collecting scraps from the riverbank.

At the end of the pier, that shack pieced together from old ship planks is Ye Sheng's home.

Pushing open the door, a musty smell mixed with the aroma of herbs hit me.

"Brother?" A faint voice came from the corner.

On the straw mat, a thin figure struggled to sit up, but this triggered a violent coughing fit.

Ye Sheng quickly stepped forward and pressed down on his younger brother Ye Kai's shoulder: "Brother, don't move."

As he spoke, he pulled out two coarse flour buns wrapped in oil paper from his pocket and stuffed them into his younger brother's hand, saying, "Eat them while they're hot."

Ye Kai held the steamed bun, but didn't rush to take a bite. He just looked up at his brother's face, which was chapped from the river wind: "Brother, did the firewood market close today?"

"We've taken it." Ye Sheng turned to start a fire, his voice calm. "But they drove the price down; half a basket of firewood only got us seven copper coins."

It took three strikes of the flint before a spark appeared.

Ye Sheng lit the dry grass, added some kindling, and waited until the fire was stable before placing the earthenware pot on top.

The jar contained half a pot of thin porridge left over from the morning. He broke off half a steamed bun and sprinkled in some wild shepherd's purse that he had dug up on the riverbank.

After a while, the shed gradually warmed up.

Ye Kai took a small bite of his steamed bun and said softly, "Brother, Master Liu from the ferry came again today to ask if the town's pharmacy needs an apprentice to grind medicine. He'll provide room and board and pay three hundred coins a month."

Upon hearing this, Ye Sheng paused in stirring the porridge.

"I've already gone back," he said calmly. "You're not fully recovered, so I can't go."

"But brother—" Ye Kai coughed again in his anxiety, "My illness... is just a burden. You should go to the pharmacy, at least..."

"Have a meal."

Ye Sheng interrupted him, handing him the warmed porridge, "Don't think about these things."

The two brothers then silently finished their simple dinner. Ye Kai, weakened by illness, soon drifted off to sleep again.

Ye Sheng tucked his younger brother in with the tattered quilt, then sat by the fire. In the last rays of daylight, he rummaged through a broken wooden box in the corner and pulled out a few old books. The pages were yellowed and brittle, and the edges were badly eaten by insects.

This is the only legacy left to the two brothers by their father, a down-on-his-luck scholar who spent half his life trying to pass the Chinese literature exam but never succeeded. He eventually died of illness on the road in exile, leaving behind only this box of useless books and his two young sons.

Ye Sheng opened the top book, "Fengwu Zhi" (A Record of Local Customs), and ran his fingers over the blurred words.

"The Azure Netherworld is divided into five regions. The Eastern Region borders the sea and has many rivers. Cultivator sects reside on sacred mountains, while mortals gather in cities. Those with registered residence live in markets, while those without are considered migrants, forbidden from entering cities or owning property, and thus destined to wander for generations..."

He closed his eyes, as if in a dream.

I've been in this world for over three months now. The last thing I remember from my past life is the feeling of weightlessness during the plane crash. But when I opened my eyes again, I was a sixteen-year-old drifter in Shuilongdu, with only a sickly younger brother and a drafty shack by my side.

After the initial shock and confusion subsided, survival became the only problem Ye Sheng had to face.

As the lowest class of people in the Eastern Region, the migrants had no household registration, so they could not work in the city, buy land, or even stay in the same place for a long time.

At the end of each year, the government would also take stock of displaced people and drive away those who remained. They were like duckweed on the river, rootless and adrift, and could only temporarily reside in the land designated by the imperial court.

The only saving grace was that, although the original owner's body was thin, it possessed considerable strength and had also inherited some rudimentary literacy skills taught by the original owner's father.

Therefore, Ye Sheng barely managed to make ends meet by carrying goods at the ferry crossing, chopping firewood in the mountains, and collecting scraps washed ashore on the riverbank. But his younger brother's illness was a bottomless pit.

Ye Kai was born prematurely and was weak from a young age. A cold he caught in the autumn caused him to develop a cough.

The town doctor examined him and shook his head, saying, "He has congenital deficiency of qi and blood, and needs long-term nourishment." He prescribed several more doses of medicine, which used up all the copper coins Ye Sheng had saved.

His younger brother's medicine couldn't be stopped, and the rice jar was almost empty. Thinking of this, Ye Sheng put down his book and looked down at his own rough hands.

Just then, his eyes suddenly lit up slightly. The next second, several lines of semi-transparent text slowly emerged, like a reflection in water:

[Skill: Scavenging (Beginner)]

[Progress: 87/100]

[Practice: Identifying miscellaneous items, occasionally yielding useful results]

Upon seeing this, Ye Sheng's pupils contracted slightly; this was the cheat code that had come with him from his previous life.

At first, he thought it was a hallucination, until one day he found an old copper coin half-buried in the sand on the riverbank, and the words in front of him jumped up again: the progress of the scavenging changed from "3/100" to "4/100".

At the same time, he inexplicably had a vague idea in his mind about "how to distinguish the age and purity of copper coins".

From that moment on, Ye Sheng became convinced that the "skill panel"—the cheat code that fate had given him as a transmigrator—truly existed. Furthermore, as long as he consistently performed a task well, he could accumulate progress points.

When the progress points are full, the skill level will increase, and corresponding talent abilities will be generated.

For the past three months, Ye Sheng has relied on his basic talent for scavenging to find a few still-usable nails and half a rusted machete among the garbage on the riverbank that others overlook.

On one occasion, he even found a sunken wooden box containing two pieces of silver, which were the life-saving money that the two brothers had used to get through the most difficult days.

However, scavenging is ultimately a matter of luck. Nine times out of ten, Ye Sheng returns empty-handed, and the one time he does find, he only manages to pick up some worthless trinkets.

To truly change the brothers' situation, they need a more stable and lucrative livelihood.

At this moment, Ye Sheng shifted his gaze to another line of text on the panel:

[Skill: Literacy (Beginner)]

[Progress: 42/100]

[Effect: Possesses a basic understanding of literature and can read colloquial texts]

The skill of literacy was a legacy from the original owner's father.

After inheriting the skill, Ye Sheng persisted in reading and recognizing characters every day. Although his progress was slow, he had a vague feeling that when the skill level improved, it might activate a more useful talent ability.

After all, literacy is a rare skill in this world.

But... the progress is progressing too slowly. My brother's illness can't wait, the winter wind can't wait, and the government's year-end inventory can't wait either.

Ye Sheng looked out at the deep night outside the shed, the river wind howling as if weeping and lamenting.

He suddenly remembered the news he had heard at the ferry crossing during the day: the town of Black Stone, fifty miles away, was recruiting temporary clerks, requiring them to have "a basic understanding of writing and neat handwriting," with a daily wage of thirty coins.

Thirty coins. Enough to buy three catties of rice, or to get the cheapest medicine for my younger brother.

However, Black Rock Town is a "registered" area where officials, merchants, and commoners reside. Migrants are not allowed to enter unless someone vouches for them or they bring a travel permit.

Old Liu at the ferry crossing did mention that he had connections in town and could help get a "temporary travel permit," but he would take a 50% commission and it could only last for ten days.

Ten days' wages totaled only three hundred coins. After deductions, only one hundred and fifty coins remained. This income was a drop in the bucket. But it was the only chance for survival Ye Sheng could see and possibly seize.

He slowly exhaled a breath of stale air and added the last bit of firewood to the fire. The flickering flames illuminated his serene eyes.

"I have to give it a try," he muttered to himself.

The words, spoken lightly, seemed to vanish almost instantly in the cold night, carried away by the river breeze.

But Ye Sheng's gaze remained steady. He reopened the book "Fengwu Zhi" and, by the flickering firelight, continued reading word by word.

In a short while, the progress of the [Literacy] on the panel jumped from "42/100" to "43/100".

The night is long.

Outside the shed, the last light at Shuilongdu went out. Only along the Duanlong River, the unchanging roar of the waves, carrying the chill of early winter, rolled eastward.