Body command feeding world

Before the morning mist had even dissipated, Qinglu Village was already awake. The sounds of chickens and dogs pierced through the thin mist, and wisps of smoke rose from the chimneys of the scattered wooden houses, mingling with the fresh scent of earth and grass, permeating every corner of the village.

Wu Wei returned home, carrying his iron spear, treading along the dew-covered ridges of the fields. He hadn't slept all night, honing his spear skills deep in the bamboo grove west of the village until the first light of dawn. Now, his clothes were stained with grass and morning dew, a thin layer of sweat covered his forehead, and the warmth of his blood flowed slowly through his body, dispelling the chill of the night. Only the calluses on his palms, from holding the spear shaft all night, felt exceptionally hot.

"Brother Wu Wei, you've gone to the mountains to practice shooting again?"

Beside the field ridge, an old farmer wearing a straw hat was bending over tending his vegetable garden. Seeing him approach, he straightened up and greeted him. The old farmer's name was Uncle Li, and he was one of the few people in the village who was relatively kind to him. When the original owner of this body was alive, he had received help from him several times.

Wu Wei paused slightly, nodded in acknowledgment, and said in a flat voice, "Mm."

He wasn't good at small talk, and his solitary nature remained unchanged even after his soul transmigrated to another world. Uncle Li looked at the gleaming iron spear in his hand, a hint of worry flashing in his eyes: "The mountains aren't safe. Although you're skilled, don't be too reckless. Wang Erzhu from the east end of the village went to chop firewood in the back mountains yesterday, and he hasn't returned yet."

Wu Wei's eyes flickered slightly. Wang Erzhu, in the original owner's memories, was a reckless young man who always boasted of his bravery. He didn't reply, only saying calmly, "I understand."

After saying that, he picked up his iron spear and continued on his way, leaving Uncle Li behind. He sighed softly, shook his head, and bent down again to tend to the vegetable garden.

Qinglu Village is small, with just over a hundred households living along the mountainside, mostly making a living through farming and hunting. Wu Wei's wooden house is at the westernmost end of the village, far from the settlement area, standing alone on the edge of the bamboo forest, just like his current situation—surrounded by people, yet always separated from his surroundings by an invisible barrier.

As he approached the door, he saw a little girl with pigtails squatting in the corner, clutching a bunch of wildflowers in her hand, staring at him with her round eyes. The girl's name was Ya Ya, the daughter of Aunt Zhang, his neighbor. Although young, she was not shy and would often sneak to his door to watch him practice shooting.

"Brother Wu Wei, you're back!" Ya Ya skipped over to greet him as he approached, offering him the wildflowers she was holding. "I picked these this morning, here you go."

Wildflowers, glistening with morning dew, were vibrant in color and exuded a delicate fragrance. Wu Wei looked into the girl's pure eyes, a slight stirring in his heart, yet he maintained his distance: "No need."

He stepped aside to walk past Ya Ya, preparing to open the door, but the girl tugged at his sleeve. Ya Ya looked up at him timidly and said, "Brother Wu Wei, my mother asked me to ask you if you want to come over for dinner tonight? We've made some meat soup."

Aunt Zhang was a kind-hearted woman. Knowing that Wu Wei was all alone, she would often bring him food, but he usually politely declined. He wasn't used to owing favors, and he didn't like being too close to people. Being alone was the only way he could maintain absolute composure—it was a gunman's instinct.

"Thank you for your kindness, Aunt Zhang, but it's no need." Wu Wei gently loosened the hem of his clothes, his tone flat yet carrying an undeniable distance. "I have my own food."

Ya Ya's smile vanished instantly. She pursed her lips sadly, her fingers tightening around the wildflower, but she didn't persist. She simply whispered, "Then... then I'll leave the flowers at your door."

After saying that, she placed the wildflowers on the threshold, lowered her head, and ran away. Her small figure quickly disappeared at the alley entrance.

Wu Wei looked at the wildflowers on the threshold, remained silent for a moment, then bent down, picked them up, and placed them on the windowsill. He wasn't heartless; it was just that years of experience as a gunner had made him accustomed to solitude. The betrayal and machinations of Earth had taught him not to easily trust others and not to build too deep a bond with them.

He pushed open the door and was about to step inside when he heard footsteps behind him, accompanied by a slightly arrogant tone: "Wu Wei, you're finally back."

Wu Wei turned around and saw three young men dressed in animal skins and carrying hunting knives standing not far away. The leader was Zhao Hu, the captain of the village hunting team. Zhao Hu was tall and had a scar on his face. He had an arrogant look in his eyes and had always disapproved of Wu Wei's lone-wolf style, always feeling that he was too arrogant and did not respect the villagers.

"What is it?" Wu Wei asked coldly, his grip on the iron spear tightening slightly as he warily observed the three men.

Zhao Hu chuckled, took two steps forward, and sized him up: "I heard you went to the mountains again last night? Wang Erzhu has disappeared; have you seen him?"

"No," Wu Wei said bluntly.

"Hmph, I think you're lying!" a young man next to Zhao Hu couldn't help but speak up. "You're the most troublesome person in the whole village, always running off to the mountains. Wang Erzhu's disappearance might be your doing!"

"You need evidence to back up your words." Wu Wei's eyes turned cold, and his aura instantly became sharp, like a spear drawn from its sheath. "Without proof, don't spout nonsense."

The young man was startled by his gaze and subconsciously took a step back, but Zhao Hu stopped him. Zhao Hu stared at Wu Wei, his tone unfriendly: "We're not trying to frame you, we just want to ask you if there's anything unusual in the mountains? Wang Erzhu is a skilled fighter in the village, and if something happens to him, it will be a loss for the village. Since you often go into the mountains, you must know more than we do."

Wu Wei knew that although Zhao Hu was reckless, he was doing it for the village. He pondered for a moment and slowly said, "There's nothing unusual in the mountains, but the forests are deep and the roads are treacherous. Perhaps he's just lost."

He didn't mention Shadowfiend, firstly because it was unnecessary, and secondly because even if he did, these ordinary villagers might not believe him, and it would only cause unnecessary panic.

Zhao Hu frowned, clearly dissatisfied with the answer: "Lost? Wang Erzhu has been running around in the mountains for over ten years, how could he possibly get lost? I think he's most likely encountered danger. Wu Wei, you're skilled, why don't you come with us into the mountains to search?"

This was a reasonable request, and most people would have readily agreed. But Wu Wei shook his head: "I have other things to do, I can't go."

His goal was to become stronger, to find the fragments of the origin, and to prove the Dao of the three paths of bone marrow. Wang Erzhu's disappearance had nothing to do with him, and he did not want to get involved in these trivial matters.

Zhao Hu hadn't expected him to refuse so decisively, and his face instantly darkened: "Wu Wei, don't push your luck! We're all villagers, helping each other is only natural. You're all alone; if the village hadn't taken you in, you would have starved to death long ago! Now that the village is in trouble, you're just standing by and doing nothing. Where is your conscience?"

These words were laced with accusation, and the tone grew increasingly heated. Villagers, drawn by the commotion, gathered around, pointing and whispering amongst themselves about Wu Wei.

"Captain Zhao is right. Wu Wei went too far. The village took him in, but he showed no mercy at all."

"That's right. Wang Erzhu is usually a nice person. Now that he's gone missing, everyone should put in the effort to find him."

"He always carried around that broken gun, thinking he was so great, but he's just a cold-blooded, ruthless guy!"

The whispers reached his ears, but Wu Wei remained expressionless, as if he hadn't heard them. He didn't care about others' opinions or so-called face; he only trusted the spear in his hand and his own strength.

"I'll say it again, I'm not going." Wu Wei's voice remained calm, yet carried a decisive and ruthless air. "My relationship with the village is merely one of mutual accommodation; I owe them nothing. If you want to find them, go find them yourselves."

After saying that, he ignored Zhao Hu and the others, turned around, pushed open the door, went in, and slammed the door shut, shutting out all the discussions and accusations outside.

Inside, the pine oil lamp was still burning, its dim light illuminating the small space. Wu Wei leaned his iron spear against the corner of the wall, sat cross-legged on the bed, closed his eyes, but did not immediately begin his cultivation.

He could hear Zhao Hu's angry curses outside, the villagers' discussions, and Ya Ya's soft defenses. These sounds intertwined, forming the lively atmosphere of Qinglu Village, but also making him more clearly aware of his incompatibility with this world.

He was a master marksman on Earth, but his soul transmigrated here. His heart held only the way of the gun and the great path, devoid of any so-called hometown sentiments or ties. Solitary and decisive in battle—this was his creed, and it never changed.

A moment later, Wu Wei opened his eyes, his gaze regaining its usual calm and sharpness. The commotion outside was irrelevant to him. He raised his hand and gripped the iron spear, the Yang Flame Blood Essence slowly circulating within his body. The spear shaft trembled slightly in his hand, as if responding to his will.

He didn't care about the villagers' gossip or Zhao Hu's accusations; all he knew was that the spear in his hand was the foundation of his survival. Only by constantly becoming stronger could he establish himself in this dangerous world, control his own destiny, and break through all obstacles to reach the pinnacle of spearmanship.

The chatter outside gradually subsided, and the lively atmosphere of Qinglu Village remained strong. Inside, the young man was immersed in his own world of spearmanship. The powerful gusts of wind from his wielding iron spear echoed once again in the small wooden house, creating a stark contrast with the crowing of roosters and barking of dogs outside. This also outlined the figure of a solitary spearman, guarding his own spear and yearning for the great path.