I was born in a slave house, the child of slaves, in a cultivation world.
My fate was simple. Plow the fields until I die.
But there is one small problem.
I am not originally from here.
In my past life, my name was Dave. A completely normal guy from modern society. And now I am Lu, a black haired, healthy three year old boy with zero cultivation talent in a world ruled by cultivators.
Yes, I know what you are thinking.
"This is such a cliché scenario straight out of a generic Eastern manhua."
Trust me, I thought the same thing.
But unlike those clueless reincarnators who stumble around like idiots, I am a veteran weeb. I have read thousands of manhua and manhwa. I know the tropes. I know the flags. I know how this is supposed to go.
So explain this to me.
Why give a slave a money system?
I stared at the floating screen in front of me, something only I could see.
[MONEY SYSTEM]
CURRENT STATUS: DIRT POOR
TITLE: SLAVE 10463
MONEY: -102 silver
SYSTEM PERFORMANCE: Locked
I have been looking at this screen since I was born. And somehow, the money keeps decreasing.
Mind you, I am only three years old.
I sighed while carrying water for my mother as she washed laundry under the sun.
"Mom, when will we get away from this endless debt?" I asked.
She only patted my head and smiled brightly.
"Soon."
She is always kind. That is why my father fell head over heels for her, even though they were both slaves.
The debt is not even theirs. It came from my grandparents. So I cannot blame them for this situation.
Still, suffering is suffering.
But a chance to escape did come.
Three hours later.
[MONEY: -102 silver → 0 silver]
What just happened?
A scream echoed through the village.
"The master is dead! We are free!"
A slave ran through the streets, stumbling, but shouting at the top of his lungs.
"We are free now!"
My eyes widened.
The older villagers did not celebrate. They sweated in fear.
Our master was a cultivator. A cowardly one.
If he died, then only two possibilities existed.
Either there was a war between sects and he was forced to participate.
Or something worse appeared.
If it was war, then maybe we could survive by siding with the winner.
If it was something else, then we were finished.
"It is war," my grandfather said calmly as he placed down the firewood and prepared to sleep.
"it is war, so we should wait and See who wins then we side with them. Now hush. Let us savor the little time we have."
The villagers followed his words.
But not me.
War means chaos.
Chaos means bodies.
Bodies mean spoils.
And spoils from cultivators mean one thing.
Money.
And with that MONEY, I can change my fate in this MURIM world.