Hijacking the Three Kingdoms with My System

Chapter 2: Alien Skies and the First Scent of French Fries

The smell of horse manure.

That was the first thing that hit Joshua's sense of smell as his consciousness slowly returned. The smell was thick, warm, and pungent, mixed with the aroma of wet, rotting straw. It was a stark contrast to the smell of bus exhaust and clogged sewers he usually inhaled in Jakarta.

"Ugh... am I in a horse stable that has an emergency room?" he mumbled hoarsely. His tongue felt thick, as if he had just licked hot asphalt.

Joshua opened his eyes with a jolt of surprise, hoping to see hospital neon lights or the angry face of a doctor because he hadn't paid his national health insurance. But what he saw was the sky. Blue. Too blue. White clouds drifted slowly, unobstructed by skyscrapers or pollution haze.

He tried to sit up. His head spun violently, vertigo hitting him like a sledgehammer. His stomach was nauseous. It felt like seasickness after riding a carnival swing boat for three hours non-stop.

"Okay, Jo. Inhale. Exhale," he instructed himself.

His hands felt his chest and left shoulder. He remembered the heat and the pain. He remembered the bullet piercing his flesh. But now, as his fingers touched his skin, there was no blood. No hole. Not even a scar. His skin was smooth, though it felt dirtier and grimier than usual.

He looked down at his body. His faded jeans and favorite metal band T-shirt were gone. In their place was coarse, dull gray burlap wrapped haphazardly around his body, resembling a beggar's costume from a historical drama, but with much worse fabric quality. It smelled musty.

"What kind of prank is this?"

Joshua looked around. He was in a dilapidated hut with no walls, only a thatched roof with holes here and there. Surrounding him was a vast, dry grassland. In the distance, a dirt path was crowded with people.

Not ordinary people.

They walked, carrying bundles of worn cloth. Their faces were dirty, skinny, and desperate. Some mounted soldiers passed by, wearing hard leather armor and strangely shaped iron helmets, carrying sharp spears. There were no electric poles. No sound of motorcycles. No sign of 21st-century life.

Reality slapped Joshua harder than a rent bill.

"I... I'm really in the past?" His voice trembled. "Did that crazy Professor really send me to the Stone Age?!"

Suddenly, a loud chime rang inside his head, followed by the appearance of a transparent, neon blue hologram screen floating right in front of his face. The font was modern, *sans-serif*, a stark contrast to the ancient world backdrop.

[SYNCHRONIZATION COMPLETE]

[Welcome, Host.]

[Current Location: Outskirts of Zhuo County, You Province.]

[Time: Spring, 190 AD (First Year of the Chuping Era).]

"190 AD?!" Joshua shrieked hysterically, startling a passing chicken into running away. "That's the Three Kingdoms Era! The time when people behead each other just for looking wrong! I want to go home! I haven't graduated yet!"

[Request Denied. Timeline Locked.]

[Host Body Status: Malnutrition Level 1. Dehydration. Mental: Severe Shock.]

[Activating Main Module: "CULINARY STRATEGY SYSTEM".]

Joshua stared blankly at the screen. "Strategy... what? Culinary? Are you kidding me? I need a machine gun, hey! Or at least a history encyclopedia! Why am I given a cooking system on a battlefield?!"

[Explanation: Armies march on their stomachs. Morale is built on satiety. Logistics is the true god of war.]

[Tutorial Mission: Fill Your Stomach So Your Brain Can Work.]

[Starter Pack Reward: Available.]

Joshua's stomach rumbled loudly. *'Grrr.'* The sound was so loud it sounded like a tiger with severe indigestion. The hunger he felt wasn't ordinary hunger; it was a painful hunger, as if his stomach acid was eating its own walls. Transmigration apparently burned a lot of calories.

"Whatever," Joshua gave up. "Where's the food? I'd eat rocks if I were this hungry."

He pressed the virtual [CLAIM REWARD] button on the screen.

A golden light shimmered in his palm. The light particles solidified, forming an object that was incredibly familiar, incredibly modern, and incredibly out of place in 190 AD.

A packet of French fries.

Not boiled potatoes. These were crinkle-cut French Fries, placed in a brown paper bag. Hot steam rose from them. Fine grains of salt sparkled in the late afternoon sun. The aroma... Oh God, the smell of hot cooking oil and MSG was so tempting, like smelling an angel's perfume.

"French fries..." Joshua's eyes welled up. Without thinking twice, he snatched a single fry.

“Crunch.”

The texture was perfect. Crispy on the outside, soft and fluffy inside. The salty taste of the salt exploded on his tongue, which had been bitter for so long. In an era where salt was an expensive commodity and commoners' food was only bland porridge, this savory taste was a miracle.

But the pleasure wasn't free.

As soon as the fry went down his throat, Joshua felt a small electric shock in his temple.

[Warning: Consuming System Items restores Stamina, but drains "Sanity Points" if done in front of mentally unprepared NPCs.]

"What do you mean…."

"HEY! YOU THERE!"

A harsh shout cut short his culinary reverie. Joshua choked. He turned and saw three soldiers walking toward his hut. They looked dirty, their leather armor scratched, and they smelled of sweat and cheap alcohol.

The soldier in front, a yellow-toothed man with a burn scar on his cheek, drew his sword toward Joshua.

"Strange clothes... short hair like a monk but a cunning face..." The soldier spat on the ground, his saliva thick and disgusting. "And what is that? That yellow thing you're eating? You must be a Yellow Turban Rebel spy!"

The two other soldiers laughed mockingly, their hands reaching for the knife handles at their waists. "Look at his hands, so soft. He must be a sorcerer or a swindler. Capture him! His head might be worth a jar of wine."

Joshua backed up until his back hit the rotten wooden post of the hut. His heart was pounding. These weren't Jakarta thugs who worried about the police. This was a barbaric age. Killing someone on the roadside was afternoon entertainment.

"Wait, Boss! Easy!" Joshua raised his hands, still holding the packet of fries. "I'm not a rebel! I'm... I'm just a tourist! Er, I mean a traveler! This isn't magic, this is food!"

"Lies!" The yellow-toothed soldier stepped forward, the tip of his sword now just five centimeters from Joshua's nose. The soldier's breath smelled worse than the Ciliwung River. "Travelers don't eat soft gold bars! That must be poison or a talisman to curse us! Hand it over or I'll chop off your hand!"

"It's potatoes, damn it! Potatoes! Tubers!" Joshua yelled in frustration.

The soldier didn't care. His eyes gleamed greedily at the package. In his eyes, the neat paper bag and its golden contents looked like treasure. He swung his sword.

It wasn't a bluff. The swing was meant to cleave his neck.

Joshua saw the flash of rusty iron move in slow motion. His brain screamed “Run!”, but his legs were frozen. He closed his eyes, resigned, thinking, “Am I dying again? I just respawned five minutes ago, hey! One-star review for this isekai admin!”