Chapter One: The Death of the Transmigrator

“Fifth day... I have to go out.”

William Clark said this to himself for the ninth time.

He had transmigrated, crossing over to five years later, that is, the future world of 2028.

This was still Earth—why do I say that?

Because looking out from the broken window of the room, you could see English letters everywhere on the street. He recognized the word “New York” appearing frequently among those letters, as well as words like “South Bronx.”

That’s right, he had transmigrated to the South Bronx in New York, a famous slum area of the city.

William Clark’s soul had crossed over, and the original owner of the body he now inhabited was an Asian. The key point was that William Clark hadn’t obtained even a shred of this body’s memories, so he had no idea what the original owner’s name was, nor did he know anything about the original owner’s social relationships, etc.

From the information William Clark gathered while exploring the apartment, the original owner of this body wasn’t very old—probably about the same age as he was before transmigrating, in his early twenties.

The original owner was extremely poor, living in a very rundown apartment. That wasn’t even the worst part—there was almost no furniture in the room, and even though it was already 2028, the original owner didn’t even have a cell phone. William Clark had to rely on peeking at some billboards outside the window to confirm the current date. It was simple: it was another U.S. presidential election season, and all the billboards were covered with information about the presidential candidates. That’s how William Clark figured out what year it was.

If it were just poverty, that would be fine. To live another life, William Clark wouldn’t be picky.

But the key issue was that the original owner of this body was not only poor, but also an addict!!

The body was extremely thin, arms covered in needle marks. William Clark would start gasping for breath after just a little movement. Looking in the mirror, the original owner’s eyes were sunken, his face deathly pale—a living image of someone on the verge of death.

William Clark even felt suicidal.

Alright then!

The body was weak to the point of death, but he could endure that. At worst, he could rely on willpower to turn things around. After all, he was a soul transmigrator—he himself never had these bad habits, so he would only experience physical withdrawal, not psychological cravings. As long as his will was strong, he would never fall back into those bad habits.

If it were just these things, William Clark could endure. But the key was—it wasn’t just these things!

Ever since he transmigrated, people had been constantly knocking on the door: Black people, white people, all kinds of Asians. None of them looked like good people—most were skinny addicts, some were small-time thugs, and the scariest part was that among those looking for him, there were clearly real gangsters.

How could William Clark be so sure?

He swore on the bullet holes that had just appeared in his apartment door—if those weren’t from gangsters, what else could they be?

Before transmigrating, William Clark was a college graduate from an ordinary family in Z country. He had never had any dealings with gangsters!

As an ordinary person from Z country, things like drugs, guns, and gangs were all far, far away from him—just as distant as those online “founding a nation” discussions back in the day.

So William Clark was so scared he didn’t dare go out, nor did he dare respond to anyone outside the door. After transmigrating, he survived on a few pieces of bread he found in the room. When he was thirsty, he drank tap water. When he was hungry... well, he just had to endure it. He managed to hold out for four days, but now he really couldn’t take it anymore—he had to go out!

“I found a total of six dollars and thirty-five cents. I don’t know what prices are like now, but it should be enough to buy some food, and then... I’ll just take it one step at a time.”

William Clark had too many thoughts, like going back to Z country, especially to Chongqing. He wanted to confirm whether he still existed, whether his parents were still there, whether he had transmigrated to the future or to a parallel world—he wanted to confirm all of this.

Before transmigrating, William Clark was in a vegetative state. He had just graduated at 23 and was in a car accident during a job interview.

After that, he couldn’t move at all—not even his eyelids. But the strange thing was, his mind was clear. He could hear people talking around him and could feel the presence of his body, but he just couldn’t make any movements. According to what the doctors told his parents and younger sister, all his symptoms indicated he was in a vegetative state, and there was no guarantee he would ever wake up.

William Clark spent more than half a year in this painful torment, trapped in darkness, until a beam of light appeared before his eyes. William Clark instinctively “ran” toward the light, and then he transmigrated into the body of this Asian in America.

Even more miraculous, every seventy-two hours he could transmigrate back. But when he did, he was still trapped in that vegetative body. That situation was no different from being dead... No, being trapped in darkness, only able to hear the sounds around him—that state was even more terrifying than death!