Transmigrating to Another World and Cultivating into the Chaos Heavenly Emperor

Lin Yu snapped his eyes open. The blinding sunlight made him squint instinctively. A strange, fresh scent of grass and trees lingered around his nose, nothing like the musty smell of the rented room in his memories. “Where am I?” He pushed himself upright, then sucked in a breath as pain lanced through his body. A dense ancient forest stretched as far as he could see. The branches of towering trees interlaced overhead, blocking out the sky, and only a few scattered patches of sunlight reached the ground, which was carpeted with dead leaves. He looked down at his hands. These weren’t the long-fingered hands he’d used for years to pound a keyboard. This pair was slender, too, but covered in fine scars, with a thin layer of calluses between the thumb and forefinger, clear marks of years of hard labor. Fragments of a memory that wasn’t his suddenly flooded his mind. The other Lin Yu was an inconspicuous menial disciple in the Qingyun Sect’s outer sect. While picking spirit herbs in the mountains, he had accidentally fallen down a slope and stopped breathing. “Did I… transmigrate?” Lin Yu murmured, his heart pounding uncontrollably. As a modern young man who had read countless web novels, he had never imagined that transmigration, something that existed only in fiction, could actually happen to him.