Hunting Immortals and Demons

“At last, we’ve reached Changfeng City.”
Seeing the sprawling ancient city ahead, its towering walls rising from the earth, Lu Yan’s eyes stung with tears.
He had been in this world for half a month now, following the great exodus of refugees. During this time, he had narrowly escaped death more than once, surviving by the slimmest of chances.
Once, in a desperate struggle for a few wild vegetables, he had nearly been beaten to death by other refugees.
He often lamented that he must be one of the unluckiest transmigrators in existence.
Indeed, he was originally from Earth—a failed web novelist, working by day, writing by night. Perhaps it was sheer exhaustion, but one evening he’d passed out at his keyboard, only to awaken in the body of a youth in another world, one who bore his same name.
This boy’s homeland had been devastated by natural disaster: scorched earth stretched as far as the eye could see, the crops withered, not even bark or wild greens left to eat. To stay meant certain starvation—migration was the only hope.
The boy had fled with his family, but fell seriously ill along the way and died. Thus, Lu Yan had taken his place, inheriting most of his memories, which allowed him to avoid suspicion over the past weeks.
“I wonder if the ruling clans of Changfeng will take us in?”
The speaker was an old man everyone called Uncle Wu. His skin was dark and cracked, his hair white as snow, his frame so gaunt he seemed little more than skin and bones. Though only about fifty, he looked older than a seventy-year-old on Earth.