Swords and Strange Tales

In the western outskirts of Yanzhou Prefecture in the Kingdom of Loulan, there was a patch of marshland, now nothing but ruins, almost entirely forgotten save for the locals who still remembered its existence.

At midday on this particular day, a sudden, anguished cry split the silence of the grassy wasteland. A young man’s voice, sharp and piercing, rang out; his eyes, red as blood, snapped open, glowing with a fierce, incandescent light. His body tensed, poised like a dragon about to strike or a tiger leaping from cover. But the movement instantly tugged at his wounds, and pain wracked his frame.

The youth, Chu Yecai, realized he was lying on damp grass. Nearby, tendrils of greenery and blooming branches swayed gently. He scrambled to his feet, scanning his surroundings—only to find himself amid utter desolation.

“My sister is gravely ill. She needs money for surgery. I struggled to invent a new medicine, and just as I was about to patent it, my doctoral advisor stole my achievement. I raced to the university lecture hall to confront him, but then—an earthquake struck, the hall collapsed… Where am I now?”

Chu Yecai glanced down, startled by his clothes. Instead of modern attire, he wore coarse ancient hemp garments. Reflected in the stagnant marsh water was his own young, unfamiliar face.

“I was a doctoral student… Why do I look as I did at seventeen or eighteen? What on earth is happening?”

Just then, a soft, pained whimper caught his attention. He turned and saw, not far away, a small wild goose lying listlessly on the ground, its b