Chapter One: The County Magistrate Encounters Bandits Upon Arrival

West wind sighs, voices draw near; the ancient road winds through bleak mountains beneath dark clouds, with nowhere to return when looking back.
The Yi River flows, the Luo River flows, winding past the Copper River into the unknown, leaving only wisps of sorrow on the road ahead.
......
After days of overcast skies and rain, the sun finally broke through, traversing the thick clouds, appearing and disappearing in fits and starts.
Wu North is a mountainous region, and with the relentless rain, the already difficult mountain paths had become even muddier and more treacherous.
Copper Mountain is steep, bordered by rocky cliffs on the left and precipices on the right. Decades ago, local officials, determined to open a route to connect the north and south, mobilized the common people to carve a passage directly through the cliffside, which came to be known as the Copper Mountain Plank Road.
"Coo-coo~ Coo-coo~"
A turtle dove flying overhead nonchalantly dropped a dollop of excrement, which drifted on the wind and landed right on An Xin’s nose.
An Xin wiped the bird droppings off with his sleeve, looking up at the wretched bird flying away, speechless.
"Once I cross this mountain, I should reach the Copper Mountain Post Station, right?"
An Xin was dressed in a cyan long gown, carrying a camouflage hiking backpack. A climbing rope hung from his waist, and he gripped a telescopic baton in his hand. The black boots on his feet were coated in layer upon layer of thick mud, making every step feel increasingly heavy.
He scraped the mud off his soles against a rock by the roadside and gazed at the white mist swirling among the mountain ranges. Peak after peak connected, and without a navigation system, he had no idea when he would finally emerge from these mountains.
His mood matched the scene: his future was uncertain, full of sighing, anxiety, bewilderment, and expectation.
Just over half a month ago, after buying groceries and driving home from work, he had emerged from an underground tunnel into a bank of fog during a clap of thunder. He had collided with something, there was a series of crashing sounds, the airbag deployed and slammed into his face, and when he woke up, he found himself and his car in an uninhabited, secluded mountain forest.
His body still carried a faint, ozone-like "fresh grass" scent.
Relying on the food he had bought and the snacks usually kept in his car, it took him several days to find signs of human life, at which point he realized he had transmigrated to a dynasty called the "Great Yan."
He had considered bribing a local village head to obtain a local identity, but one day, while returning to the valley during a fierce storm, he discovered a corpse lying in a pavilion on Swallow Sparrow Mountain.
"How can there be someone who looks so much like me?"
Whenever he thought of that corpse, An Xin’s heart hammered.
The corpse's features were like looking into a mirror; even if not an exact replica, no one would doubt they were twins.
"Forty-seventh place in the second rank of the Jingshun fourteenth year Wuxu imperial examination, appointed Magistrate of Wuren County by the Ministry of Personnel."
This was the identity of the deceased. Based on the items, letters, and diary found in his pack, it was clear the man had been on his way to take up his post.

Compared to bribing a village official to become a peasant—toiling under the sun, enduring heavy taxes and forced labor, and being squeezed by landlords and the government—An Xin decided, after a night of deliberation, to dispose of the body, swap identities, and take the post in Wuren!
"Only the scholar is noble, and officialdom brings joy and ease. Being an official is better after all."
Indulging in these daydreams of a better life, An Xin felt a sense of purpose.
"Once I pass Copper Mountain, I’ll reach Wuren County. From then on, I will be Magistrate An!"
Leaning against a rock, he ate dry, hard buns washed down with cold water, watching the torrent of the Copper River flow past the mountain and vanish. Suddenly, he heard a sound coming from the mountain path below.
It sounded like horse hooves.
He followed the sound and, sure enough, saw someone riding toward him.
An Xin was delighted; if he could join a merchant caravan, his journey would be much easier!
He quickly pulled his mirrorless camera from his backpack’s mesh pocket, turned it on, adjusted the focus, and zoomed in. His heart tightened.
There were five riders, all carrying sabers.
That in itself was not the problem, but one of the horses carried not only a rider with a saber but also a woman, stripped bare and hooded, draped over the horse's back. Her pale, exposed buttocks wobbled with the gait of the horse.
"Damn it! Bandits!"
An Xin’s face turned pale with terror. He quickly lowered the camera, looking ahead and behind. With cliffs on the left and a precipice on the right, he realized in despair that there was nowhere to hide!
"No, no, my identity must not be discovered by these bandits. In this desolate, god-forsaken mountain ridge, if they find out I’m an official, they’ll kill me to prevent retaliation—a quick slash and a body thrown off the cliff would just become an unsolved case."
Despite his panic, An Xin remained clear-headed.
He looked down at the cliff, which dropped over a hundred meters. Below were withered branches and tangled grass, and many branches jutted out horizontally from the cliff face. They couldn't support a person, but they were more than enough to hold a bag.
He opened his backpack, took out a small bundle containing some traveling money, dry rations, and daily necessities.
He zipped the backpack shut, tied it securely with the climbing rope, lowered it down the cliff face, and rested it on a sturdy branch. He then knotted the rope and tossed it down, anchoring it to a thick limb.
He observed the surroundings, memorizing the location.
Seeing the bandits closing in, An Xin took the coin purse from the bundle and tucked it into his clothes.
Carrying the small bundle, he continued walking for a distance. As the bandits approached, he pressed himself against the cliff wall to make way, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

"Second Brother, there’s a kid up ahead!"
Hearing the bandit's shout, An Xin’s heart tightened instantly.
The hooves trampled through the mud, and with a "Whoa!" the five bandits reined in their horses, surrounding An Xin.
Although he had been in this world for over half a month and had already endured the iron fist of feudal autocracy, he had never dealt with such lethal, vicious men. Looking up at these filthy, fierce ruffians, his calves could not stop trembling.
"Are you a monk?"
The leader was a one-eyed man, his missing eye covered by a black patch. Perhaps seeing An Xin’s short hair, he asked.
"Good fellows, I am no monk. My hair was shaved off because I was ill," An Xin said.
As he spoke, he pulled the coin purse from his robe and held it up: "Kind sirs, I am merely passing through. I only have this bit of silver; I hope you will be merciful and spare my life."
The one-eyed man slapped his saber, flicked his sword, and knocked the purse into his hand. He weighed it: "Judging by your accent, you’re not from around here? If I kill you, this money is still mine."
Hearing this, the gang of vicious bandits burst into laughter, eyeing An Xin with sinister intent. One of them drew his blade, which gleamed coldly in the setting sun.
The woman on the horse trembled in fear, her soft, weak sobs drowned out by the mocking laughter.
Things had reached the worst-case scenario. Seeing their murderous aura, he feared they were hardened criminals who had killed many before. An Xin cursed his luck, but to save his life, his brain raced. He shouted repeatedly:
"No, no, kind sirs! I am a man of means!
My life is insignificant to you, but we all seek wealth in this world. My name is Zhang An, from Zizhou. My family has been in business for generations and is quite wealthy. If you spare my life, I am willing to donate my family's wealth to you."
"Second Brother, look at this kid's skin and teeth—he looks like a fat sheep!"
"I told you our luck was damn good. Not only did we pick up a tender little lady on the way back, but we also caught a fat sheep."
"Heh heh, tie him up!"
The promise of a wealthy "fat sheep" made the one-eyed man look smug.
A bandit immediately jumped off his horse, produced a rope, and bound An Xin’s hands behind his back. A burlap sack was pulled over his head, plunging him into darkness. He was roughly thrown onto a horse; his stomach hit the saddle, and the bun he had just eaten nearly came back up.