The harsh cold wind swirled in the pitch-black night sky. It was deep into the night, yet the main bedroom in the castle of the Lord of Lakeheart Town was still brightly lit.
On the large bed in the bedroom lay a chubby, black-haired boy, about in his teens, currently unconscious. Not far from the bed, the castles butler, Philip, was anxiously pacing. He alternated his gaze between the young boy on the bed and the priest who was busily attending to him.
Finally, the priest ceased his actions. Unable to contain his anxiety, Philip imdiately asked, Father Anderson, how is the young master?
Father Anderson turned around, a look of regret on his face. Butler Philip, unfortunately, the herbs previously applied and the holy water I just administered seem to have had no effect on Young Master Paul. I have only one more thod left to try, if you agree to it.
What thod is that?
Bloodletting therapy. I learned it from a traveling physician. According to him, this thod is widely used in most areas of the Gabella Empire and the Rolman Kingdom and has remarkable effects on certain unusual ailnts.
Bloodletting? Butler Philip felt a wave of dizziness at the ntion of the word.
After pondering for a mont, he finally gritted his teeth and said, Alright, Father Anderson, lets do as you suggest.
Good, may the Lord of Light bless Young Master Paul.
Father Anderson raised his hands in prayer to his deity. Then, he instructed Philip to place a copper basin under the bed and took out a sharp small knife from the box he carried.
As he was about to make a cut on the boys arm, which he had pulled out from under the blankets, he suddenly felt the boys pulse twitch under his left hand that was holding the boys arm, followed by a series of strong beats. Sensing sothing unusual, Father Anderson put down the knife and continued to observe.
The boys pulse gradually stabilized, and then, his eyelids slowly opened.
Blessed by the Lord of Light! exclaid Father Anderson and Butler Philip in unison, surprised and delighted.
What the heck, whats this awful sll? The boy, upon opening his eyes, uttered a sentence that neither of the two n could understand.
As his vision fully returned, the boy sat up and found himself completely bewildered.
Zhao Kai was an ordinary Chinese programmar who enjoyed reading various online novels. What frustrated him was that the novels he followed were often niche, and their authors, lacking motivation, would gradually shift from daily updates to monthly, then annually, or even abandon them altogether. Conversely, what he considered simplistic stories seed to flood the market.
While there were indeed so masterpieces that were both popular and to his taste, they were few, and invariably, they had their flaws.
One day, he decided to write his own novel, determined to persist even if no one read it, to make up for all the past disappointnts. As a faithful follower of the Chinese Industrial Party[1], he naturally chose to write about a world where science-based firearms and cannons overpower the magical elents.
Not wanting to make the protagonists powers too obvious, he decided to have the protagonist start from scratch in climbing the technological tree. He spent a lot of effort gathering what were dubbed essential transmigration texts and materials, like The Barefoot Doctors Manual for winning hearts, Practical Farming and Irrigation for ample food, and Militia Training Courses for maintaining peace. In short, the more, the better.
After carefully studying for half a month, he finally planned to start writing.
Unexpectedly, years of work had severely deteriorated his writing skills. Even drafting a beginning took him an embarrassingly long ti.
I used to scoff at those simplistic writings, but at least they managed to write sothing.
Feeling deeply embarrassed, Zhao Kai decided to pull an all-nighter to finish the first chapter. After struggling to piece together the first chapter in a haphazard manner, he could no longer resist the urge to sleep and dozed off at his computer.
In a daze, a pungent odor assaulted his senses, jolting his consciousness back from sleep. To his astonishnt, upon opening his eyes, he found the entire world had changed.
Zhao Kai, or rather, now Paul Grayman, looked around with a mind full of question marks.
The opulent carpet, furniture crafted from expensive wood, artistically adorned walls, and the soft mattress underneath him this was exactly like the protagonists bedroom he had described in the first chapter of his novel. Zhao Kai, now in the body of Paul, pinched his face to confirm he wasnt dreaming it hurt, indicating this was real.
Butler Philip hurriedly approached, Young Master, youve finally awakened. Please be assured, this is not a dream.
Paul then noticed two other people in the room. The one who had just approached was a thin, tall man in his forties with slightly graying hair, dressed in a black tailcoat, resembling the typical butler seen in movies. The other, appearing to be in his thirties and dressed in wide robes, seed to be so sort of clergyman.
Where am I? Why do I feel sticky? Paul noticed he was speaking the sa unfamiliar language as the others.
Youre in your bedroom, young master. Youre covered in an ointnt applied by Father Anderson. Please try not to move too much, explained the butler.
Young master? Who are you?
Seeing that the young master did not recognize him, Philip looked bewildered and turned to Father Anderson for an explanation.
Dont worry, Mr. Butler. Temporary amnesia after a coma is not uncommon. With adequate rest and care, your guidance will gradually help him recover, assured Father Anderson.
Relieved, Anderson continued to check on Paul. He seems to be fine physically. Lets let him rest for today. Keep the ointnt on and clean it off tomorrow.
Thank you so much for your help today, Philip gratefully said.
Its my duty. Ill leave now and return tomorrow to check on the young master.
Paul, now sowhat more lucid, realized the reality of his transmigration. How did this happen? He was just asleep, and now hes in another world? He lay back down, forcing himself to calm down and prioritize survival in this new world.
From the looks of it, his current identity seed to be of high status, which ant his basic needs would likely be t. Although he had lost his previous mories, he could speak the language of this world. Using amnesia as an excuse seed like a feasible way to blend in, and this thought slightly eased his mind.
After a while, Butler Philip returned, tidied up his bed, and said, Rest well tonight, young master. If you need anything, just pull the bell rope by your bed. Ill be in the next room. With a respectful bow, he left.
Paul lay in bed, beginning to carefully consider his future in this new life
[1] sen.wikipedia/wiki/Industrial_Party_(China)
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