Invincible iron fists, twin hammers that shake the heavens!

After transmigrating, Little Leonard only takes what he deserves and only does what he ought to do.

He absolutely refuses to shoulder burdens that are too heavy, nor will he fulfill obligations that are not his to bear.

As for so-called passion and hot-bloodedness, it was already worn away in his previous life.

However, when the forbidden bloodline awakens within him, when the eternal eyes shine once more!

The only thing he can do is use his iron fists to reestablish truth, and his twin hammers to reforge justice!

This is the cultivation and struggle story of a modern man who transmigrated into a strange martial arts world—

Chapter One: Just Like That, I Transmigrated

Transmigration is normal. In today’s world, there are fewer people who haven’t transmigrated than those who have. The problem is where you end up!

Brian Walker sat on a small stool in his own little courtyard, wearing split-crotch pants, tilting his head up, blinking his little eyes, and staring blankly at the old locust tree in the yard.

“Sigh, can anyone tell me, what era have I actually transmigrated to?”

The Great Jin!

That’s the only information he got after transmigrating. In fact, in this extremely isolated little mountain village, just knowing that he belonged to a country called the Great Jin was already pretty good.

Out of the hundred or so people in the village, the only one who could read was the fortune-teller at the village entrance, and he was blind. This old man was the legendary Old Thomas, who had taken the imperial exams for over thirty years but never passed, and his eyes were blinded from crying. Now he made a living telling fortunes.

Although the villagers didn’t really believe him, there are always some old customs in this Old Lincoln, so whenever there was a wedding or funeral, people would seek peace of mind by consulting him. So, he could barely get by. Occasionally, when his predictions were accurate and people gave him more gifts, he could even afford some meat, so life was just about manageable.

And in this village, he was the only one who could write a few characters. From the long white banner he held, Brian Walker recognized the writing—it was traditional Chinese. The language spoken by the people around him was a bit hard to understand at first, but gradually, he could make it out. It was Chinese, just with a heavy dialect accent. So at first, he thought he had transmigrated to ancient China.

But slowly, he began to doubt this judgment, because from the snippets of conversation around him, Brian Walker heard that their country was called the Great Jin—the Great Jin!

There was never such a dynasty in ancient China. There was one during the Spring and Autumn period, but this was clearly not that era, and the characters from the Spring and Autumn period were not ones he could recognize.

So, this wasn’t ancient China. He had only transmigrated to a world very similar to ancient China.

In this little mountain village, the only one who could answer his questions was that Old Blake, but of course he couldn’t go to him now—he was too young, only three years old, still wearing split-crotch pants. How could he go?

Did he want to be treated as a monster?

This wasn’t one of those legendary wish-fulfillment novels, where you’re a genius from birth and no one suspects a thing. Just three days ago, a guy from the neighboring village was beaten to death by the villagers for spouting nonsense, thinking he was a demon. In times like these, it’s better to keep a low profile.

Brian Walker, true to his name, was a PhD in his previous life, majoring in Chinese, a doctorate in the Chinese department. In his spare time, he dabbled in Chinese ancient history, so he was quite proficient in traditional characters, but had no other special skills.

In a sense, it wasn’t so much transmigration as reincarnation—he just skipped a bowl of Meng Po soup in the underworld.

His health was poor in his previous life, and he worked in an office. At the age of thirty-six, his zodiac year, he actually choked to death on a gulp of cold water. When he woke up again, he had just been born, and then arrived in this world.

Maybe the heavens felt guilty for letting him die in such a pathetic and bizarre way, so they gave him another chance.

After several years, he finally got used to it.

Actually, there wasn’t much to get used to—he was just a newborn baby, nothing to adapt to, just at the mercy of others.

He was born into a family with the surname Zhou, and his name wasn’t Bo. In fact, he didn’t even have a name yet—he was called Danny Goodwin.

Mountain folk don’t care much about names. It’s normal to reach seventeen or eighteen without one.

Having a surname is already pretty good.

The The Johnson Family were true mountain people. He was the fourth son in the family, with three older brothers. The eldest was already eighteen and got married last year—a simple, honest man, both a hunter and a farmer. The second brother was thirteen, a little rascal who never did any honest work and was a headache for everyone. The third brother was nine. He was the fourth, three years old. Besides these four boys, the The Johnson Family also had a daughter, seventeen this year, who was already promised to someone at the age of ten and was about to get married.

Originally, in the The Johnson Family, the eldest was called David Goodwin, the second Eddie Goodwin, the third Sam Goodwin, and Brian Walker as the fourth should be called Sidney Goodwin. As for the daughter of the The Johnson Family, in this world, just like in the dark old days, women had no status and were simply ignored.