He had read "Journey to the West" countless times in his previous life, never growing tired of it. Now, copying it from memory was a breeze. Of course, if it weren't for this strange and magical transmigration, no matter how astonishing his memory, he could never have reproduced it word for word.

"The poem goes: Before chaos split, heaven and earth were one, vast and boundless, unseen by anyone. Since Pangu broke the primal mist, from then on, clarity and turbidity were distinguished. The ancient heavens covered all beings who looked up to supreme benevolence, all things created were inherently good. If you wish to know the origin of creation and the ultimate achievement, you must read the Journey to the West, the Tale of Deliverance."

Ryan Carter softly recited the opening poem of "Journey to the West," glanced at the line he had written, "Chapter One: The Spiritual Root Nurtures the Source, the Great Way is Born from Cultivation of Mind and Nature," stretched lazily, feeling a bit tired and sleepy. He set aside the ink-scented scroll, lay down, thought for a while about the Monkey King reigning supreme in the Water Curtain Cave, and soon fell into a deep sleep.

Early the next morning, Paul Wright got up and, with a few helpers, began the work of brewing wine. Grace Carter, seeing her younger brother's door still tightly closed, pushed it open to find Ryan Carter sleeping soundly. She couldn't bear to wake him. Just as she was about to leave, she noticed the desk was a mess, covered with scrolls.

Grace Carter went over and, unable to hide her joy, realized her brother had been burning the midnight oil reading last night...

She gathered up the scattered, densely written scrolls, and saw the four large characters "Journey to the West Legend" written in a slender running script. Coming from an official family, Grace Carter was literate, and seeing this handwriting, she was overjoyed.

"Heavens, my Zichang's handwriting is truly excellent." Grace Carter turned to look at the sleeping Ryan Carter, and once again, tears of joy welled up in her eyes.

Chapter 009: Wildly Displaying Yan's Muscles (Part 1)

Ryan Carter woke up and stretched his legs comfortably, letting out a yawn.

Opening his eyes, he saw Grace Carter had already brought water for washing his face. On the desk were two small dishes, a bowl of thin porridge, and a fried dough twist.

"Zichang, get up and wash up so you can eat." Grace Carter handed over a warm towel.

"Sis." Ryan Carter felt a warm glow in his heart and quickly got up to take it.

...

It took quite a while to get dressed in the complicated Tang-style clothing. Ryan Carter left his bedroom and saw the backyard was peaceful. Looking around, he saw his sister busy with her endless needlework, his brother-in-law working in the wine shop at the front, and realized he was the only idle one in the whole courtyard. Smiling wryly, he strolled out the Wang family gate.

He wandered leisurely along the bustling street, his steps light. Brilliant sunlight poured over the green-tiled roofs and red walls everywhere. The jutting eaves, the high-flying shop banners, the shimmering carriages and horses, the endless stream of pedestrians, the serene and contented smiles on every face—all of it reflected the Tang people's joy in their prosperous era.

"If you wish to ask about the rise and fall of ancient and modern times, just look at Luoyang City." Thousands of years of history unfurled in his mind, and the sights of Luoyang were right before his eyes, within reach. The hot wind brushed his face as he walked among the Tang people. Ryan Carter gazed around, savoring the bustling prosperity of Tang dynasty Luoyang, feeling a sudden joy and a sigh: Luoyang, a world-famous city of its time, the eastern end of the Silk Road, the city with the longest history as a capital in China. Yet, this famous city had also been a battleground countless times, its grand palaces and bustling districts reduced to ruins and then revived again and again.

At this moment, only he, a stranger who had traveled across a thousand years, would have such untimely sighs and near-dreamlike wanderings.

Whether it was the busy city streets filled with carriages and horses, or the manors with mountains and flowing water outside the city, all carried a dreamlike charm, the lingering fragrance of poets' calligraphy, and the laughter of drinkers lingering over their cups. At this time, the secondary capital Luoyang was written into poems, into passion, sealed in a wine jar or a chest, whether drinking alone, gathering with friends, or traveling.

A city half bustling, half shrouded in mist, how many people became immortals in their drunken dreams. This is the flavor of Luoyang.

Ryan Carter casually entered a tavern by the roadside, drank a few pots of bland wine, ate a plate of the soy-braised beef that Luoyang people never tire of, and knelt silently on a foreign-style stool, listening to the bawdy banter of the tavern patrons and the vulgar singing of the low-class songstresses sitting cross-legged on the mats, his eyes gazing at the open tavern door and the leisurely passersby outside.

His mood gradually relaxed. In this strange yet familiar Luoyang of over a thousand years ago, in this nameless little tavern, the transmigrator Ryan Carter finally completed his "psychological transition of transmigration." He understood, he was clear, he was helpless, he was excited—whether he liked it or not, he had already become a true Tang dynasty man, just like the rough patrons in the tavern, just like the pedestrians wandering the streets.

Walking out of the tavern, the city blurred by drunken eyes, two or three dazed sparrows dozed among the ancient trees by the roadside. The tattered clouds rolled up the dust and noise inside and outside the city, the gentle Luo River washed over the brushstrokes of Wu's flowing robes. The plump young woman leaning at the brothel door, her face still flushed with wine and wearing a charming smile, became, in Ryan Carter's eyes and dreams, the Luoyang of the great Tang dynasty.