My Major Transformation of the Three Kingdoms

In a haze of confusion, Wang Bo’s consciousness gradually returned to his body.

As clarity seeped in, his mind was assaulted by a strange and indescribably foul odor—a stench born of years without bathing, heavy with the musk of sweat and hormones, tinged with the wild, fishy tang of bark and roots. Before his brain could even fully process this smell, a gaunt figure suddenly collided with him.

“Ouch!”

The figure was so thin that it felt almost sharp against Wang Bo, and through a fleeting glimpse in the ragged clothing, he caught sight of the protruding lines of neat ribs pressed against sallow skin.

In the next instant, it was as if his senses snapped into place. Wang Bo’s vision cleared, revealing a dense throng of people stretched out all around him.

Their garments were in tatters, barely sufficient to cover their bodies, all of them bearing an unfamiliar waxen pallor tinged with sickness. There was no semblance of order—some wore long robes, others short jackets, many barefoot or shod in ruined shoes. Exposed limbs revealed little more than the bony outlines beneath the skin, and in their hands they brandished a motley array of “weapons.”

Ordinarily, such a mass of people would stir up a cacophony even in silence, but these people… how to describe them? Wang Bo was an ordinary man, unaccustomed to great spectacles, but the calm that emanated from their eyes—despite their refugee-like appearance—made his skin crawl with cold sweat.

There was a dead silence, an oppressive air, with a thread of madness hidden deep in their gaze