27Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDMSWjnhang
The blazing midday sun shone fiercely through the ornate rosewood window, bathing the small tower near the walls of Saint-Cain Manor in golden light.
Du Cheng lay naked on a bed draped with plush white velvet, staring blankly at the crystal ceiling above. The dazzling sunlight pierced his eyes, yet he did not flinch, mesmerized by his reflection mirrored clearly in the crystal above.
Golden hair, sky-blue eyes, and fair, delicate skin that any noblewoman would envy—this reflection was utterly alien to him. Du Cheng frowned. He should have black hair, dark eyes, and the typical appearance of someone from another world entirely.
He turned, scrutinizing the thirty-six lotus bud tattoos on his left hip. Arranged in a mysterious Bagua formation, one lotus bud within the Qian trigram was on the verge of blooming, while the other thirty-five remained tightly closed. He sighed bitterly, “So, the Lotus Scripture has followed me here…”
Two sets of memories intertwined in his mind—one belonging to Du Cheng, disciple of the eccentric Bodhi Patriarch and junior brother of the legendary Monkey King, who had heroically died performing a good deed; the other belonged to Francis Saint-Sigrew Cain, third son of Duke Anges from the Lanning Empire, who had been notoriously mocked as the "Disgrace of House Saint-Cain" and "the idiot third young master."
After sorting through the chaos, Du Cheng understood: he had reincarnated into this unfortunate noble youth who was universally mocked as a fool.
“Damn it, Monkey Brother, I truly despise you,” Du Cheng muttered bitterly, getting up and looking around for clothes.
But regrets and anxiety wouldn't help now. Du Cheng had known hardship his whole previous life—an orphan since childhood, a thief to survive. At least now he wouldn't starve. He’d just have to accept being this "idiot young master."
Yet, with the Lotus Scripture markings following him into this life, he knew his path of good deeds had to continue—unless he wanted to face dire consequences.
He walked to the massive rosewood wardrobe, easily picking the medieval-style bronze lock with two small wooden sticks. Locks and keys were beneath a master thief like himself.
Feeling a surge of confidence from realizing that his skills had carried over into this new life, Du Cheng quickly dressed in a simple, elegant white robe, pleased at how handsome and refined he appeared, albeit a bit frail.
Stepping outside into the fresh air of Ains Continent, Du Cheng took a deep breath, marveling at the medieval European-style manor sprawling before him. "Not bad," he murmured. From today onward, he was no longer a street thief but a noble lord.
Suddenly, a shrill voice broke his reverie. A hefty woman wearing coarse servant's clothing dropped her water basin with a loud clang, exclaiming rudely, “By Saint Sigrew! Francis, you idiot, you're not dead yet?”
Du Cheng spun around, his sharp gaze piercing the woman who dared insult him. He couldn’t believe a mere servant would speak so brazenly. Rage surged within him—no one in his past life had ever dared disrespect him so blatantly.
“Francis, just get back inside—” the woman began again, emboldened despite her initial fear.
Without hesitation, Du Cheng strode forward and slapped her hard across the face.
"You dare hit me?" she gasped in shock.
Another slap silenced her protest. When she raised her hefty arm to retaliate, Du Cheng expertly knocked her sprawling onto the ground, stepping on her cheek.
Leaning down, Du Cheng coldly spoke in fluent Ains Common, his voice dangerously soft, "Do you dare strike back, madam? Assaulting the descendant of a titled battle-god is punishable by burning at the stake. Perhaps I should just sell you at the Western Market—your ample fat would fetch a fine price as firewood."
The servant’s arrogance evaporated under his merciless gaze. Fear crept into her eyes. "Young master, forgive me...please!" she stammered.
"Today’s insult won’t be forgotten,” Du Cheng interrupted harshly. “Tell me, where are Old Foye, Aliza, and my elder brother?”
These three individuals were the few genuine connections from Francis’s fragmented memories—trusted figures who had cared for him deeply.
"Young Master Steve is confined by the Duke in Sigrew Chapel," she whispered fearfully. "Old Foye and Aliza...they've just been expelled from the manor."
“They were expelled? By whom?!” Du Cheng’s anger blazed. He had inherited Francis’s sentiments as well; these were people who had genuinely cared for him, unlike others who mocked and abused him.
“Just after the priests declared you dead,” she sobbed. "They should still be near the manor gates."
Du Cheng lifted his foot from her face, snarling, “I’ll deal with you later!”
With urgency and fury driving him, he rushed toward the gates, determined to save those who had shown him kindness. He would not lose them—not again.
27Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3RcTDUIRWb
