"My head hurts..."
That was the first thought that surfaced in
The scene before him appeared to be the inside of a carriage. His body rocked and swayed with every jolt, pulling at his wound and making him gasp through clenched teeth.
He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings.
What he saw were bare wooden plank walls forming a crude enclosure. Around him sat several blond, blue-eyed Western youths, each with eyes closed in quiet rest — yet not one spared him a glance.
He seemed to be lying on the floor. Fang Ming felt the cold wood pressing against his back and knew that if he stayed down any longer, his body wouldn't hold up — he'd catch a cold on top of everything else. He struggled upright.
Just then, another piercing pain lanced through his skull.
The agony came without warning and brought with it a flood of unfamiliar memory images. Fang Ming's eyes rolled back, and he passed out again.
"Hey! Leilin! Wake up..."
In a daze, he heard a voice and forced his eyes open.
'Is this... transmigration?' Fang Ming remembered clearly. The last thing he had witnessed was the brilliant explosion of a negative energy reactor. With no protective equipment whatsoever, survival was absolutely impossible.
Moreover, on the planet he had come from, carriages and wooden planks of this style had been obsolete relics for untold ages.
As he sorted through the additional memories now lodged in his mind, Fang Ming began to understand both this body and this world.
It was a world resembling the Western Middle Ages — one where mysterious powers still existed.
This body he now inhabited had originally belonged to Leilin Farell, the son of a minor noble. After being diagnosed with wizard talent, arrangements had been made through John Farell, Viscount and the body's father, for him to become a
He looked toward the person who had woken him. Before him stood a sturdy older boy.
Thick brows, large eyes, a tall straight nose, and a head of radiant golden hair. Though his face still held a youthful softness, his body was packed with solid muscle, giving him a thoroughly masculine air.
Seeing Fang Ming come to, the boy grinned happily: "Ha ha... Leilin, you're finally awake! A few more minutes and you'd have missed dinner. I doubt you want to go hungry!"
Fang Ming lowered his eyes, thought back for a moment, and identified the person.
"George, thank you!"
Every young man and woman headed to the Wizard Academy alongside him had been found to possess wizard aptitude. This George was the legitimate son of an earl — reportedly quite favored by the earl at that. Enormous amounts of influence and resources had been spent to secure George's place at the Academy.
"An earl, huh?" Fang Ming mused to himself.
He then recalled his own father in this body — John Farell, a viscount who ruled territory roughly the size of an entire city from his previous life, commanding over a thousand soldiers like a petty king. In this world, status was tied to strength. If George's father was an earl, his domain had to be several cities large at minimum, bringing in thousands of gold coins a year. With that kind of power still considered a heavy expenditure to send his son to the Academy, how on earth had his own father managed to get him here?
As Fang Ming pondered, another wave of searing pain hit his brain, and an image surfaced.
It was a dark chamber. Yellowed wooden shelves exuded an ancient aura, surrounded by choking dust. Under the lamplight, John Farell solemnly placed a ring into Leilin's hands. "My dear Leilin, this is the greatest treasure of the Farell family — a pact with a wizard. Long ago, my grandfather once aided a wounded wizard lord. He gave Grandfather this ring, promising that if any descendant of our line possessed talent, they could present it and become a Wizard Apprentice, entering the Academy free of tuition. Now I entrust it to you. Carry on the glory of the Farell family..."
A ring!
Fang Ming's pupils contracted. His right hand moved involuntarily to his chest.
Beneath the silk garment, he felt something hard — an iron band, tucked underneath.
Fang Ming let out a long breath of relief. "Thank goodness! Whether those people had poor judgment or were bound by some restriction, they actually didn't search me and confiscate it!"
As a scientist in his previous life, Fang Ming was deeply curious about mysterious powers and burning with the desire to investigate. Besides, he had no intention of being sent back to his family for losing his crucial enrollment token.
"Although I've taken over this body and inherited its memories, I'm still different from the original Leilin Farell. Anyone who spent over a decade living with the family would notice the difference. If they suspect demonic possession and bring in some mysterious wizard to examine me, I really can't be confident I could fool them..."
"But if I enter the Wizard Academy, I'll have at least a few years before I need to go back. By then, even if there are some changes, it would be perfectly normal. Besides, once someone becomes a wizard, their personality is expected to turn solitary and eccentric — being the same as before would be the real anomaly!"
While he was deep in thought, a pair of strong hands grabbed him and helped him up.
"What are you thinking about?" George asked.
"N-nothing!" Fang Ming shook his head quickly, then rubbed it, feeling the throbbing pain still lingering.
He suddenly turned and stared at George, making the boy's heart clench — as though he were being watched by a venomous snake.
"Dear George, why did you let me lie on the floor for so long without waking me?" Fang Ming asked, rolling his eyes.
"Heh heh! I saw you sleeping so soundly — I figured you liked it that way!" George scratched his head sheepishly, though a glint of sly amusement flickered in his eyes.
Under Fang Ming's murderous gaze, he finally raised both hands in surrender. "Fine, fine! Who told you to insult my goddess? Insulting her is one thing, but between brothers I, George, am not a stingy person. The problem is the whole carriage is hostile toward you, and I don't want to be孤立 too!"
"Insult? Goddess?" Fang Ming scratched his head, then suddenly remembered why he had been beaten.
It all involved a girl named Besta. She was only fifteen or sixteen, but strikingly beautiful — with large, dewy eyes that were particularly captivating to the original Leilin.
The former Leilin had been a dissolute young lord, practically a plague upon the territory. Recalling this, Fang Ming rolled his eyes again. "No wonder this body is so frail — it wasn't just from the beating!"
Digging further into the memories, Leilin had been accustomed to bullying and flaunting his authority throughout the territory. Upon seeing Besta, he hadn't bothered to restrain himself at all. The first few times could be considered normal flirting, but after that he had tried to force himself on her. Reading this far, Fang Ming mentally tagged Leilin with a new label: imbecile.
"She's a princess of a minor kingdom, no less, and he tried to force himself on her? Is there anything in Leilin's head besides mush?"
What followed needed no elaboration. Leilin had been thoroughly beaten by a group of her self-appointed protectors — and had actually died from it, leaving the body free for Fang Ming to claim.
"Heh heh... this Besta doesn't seem simple at all. Quite the schemer," Fang Ming thought with a cold smile.
"Whatever the case — since I've taken over your body, if I ever get the chance, I'll settle the score for you. As for now, I am Leilin Farell!"
Fang Ming swore this silently to himself.
In Leilin's memories, he had never seen anyone of the yellow race, let alone heard a Chinese name. In this Western fantasy world, using a Chinese name would be far too awkward — and far too dangerous.
He looked around once more. The spacious carriage interior was now completely empty — no wonder George had only just come to wake him.
"Either way, thank you! George, do you have any medicine?" Fang Ming stood up and stretched. Though several spots still ached dully, it didn't hinder his movement. A scab had already formed on the back of his head.
"Heh heh... I knew you'd need this!" George tossed over a small bottle with a grin. "It's a secret family recipe — supposedly used for Knight training. Very effective for bodily injuries!"
As he spoke, George glanced around furtively, like a thief. "Alright! Dinner's about to start. I'm heading over — hurry up and apply the medicine, then come find me. And remember, don't tell anyone about our connection!"
With that, he slipped away as silently as the wind.
Watching George's retreating back, Leilin couldn't help pressing his forehead. "Judging by this, Leilin must have truly angered everyone. How deep does this grudge run? He just flirted with a girl! In his memories, this world was actually fairly open-minded about that sort of thing..."
He set the matter aside and quickly stripped off his clothes to rub the medicine onto his injuries.
"Hss... damn George — couldn't you have applied the medicine for me before running off?" Leilin hissed as he spread the ointment over his wounds.
The ointment actually worked quite well. The moment it touched his skin, a cool sensation spread from the injury, easing the pain.
After tending to all his wounds, Leilin dressed and pushed open the carriage door.
Whoosh!
A gentle breeze blew past. In the distance, a yellow sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, draping everything in a layer of golden light.
"No matter what... it's good to be alive!"
Leilin's eyes seemed to glisten as he murmured the words.
He surveyed his surroundings. A dozen or so massive carriages had been arranged in a rough temporary camp, with a bonfire blazing at its center. Numerous young men and women had spread blankets on the ground and sat upon them, resting, laughing, and occasionally tearing off a bite of bread.
Leilin headed straight for a long table laden with bread and fruit juice. According to the memories, this was where food was distributed.
As he drew closer, he saw a few people still queuing. When they spotted Leilin approaching, every one of them wore a look of contempt.
Though Leilin considered himself to have a thick skin, even he found it hard to bear.
He didn't leave, though. No matter what, he still needed to eat.
"Hurry up!" A hoarse voice rang out.
"S-sorry, Lord Angelei!" A boy with spots on his face hurried to apologize, snatched his portion of food, and scurried away.
"Ding! Danger alert! Danger alert!"
"Proximity to danger source too high. Recommend the host immediately withdraw to a distance of no less than one kilometer!"