<TOC> Chapter 2 Ambush on the Old Road
Translator: SumTLMan
In a state of drowsy limbo, Lin Bei found himself immersed in a dream.
In this dream, he was called Lance, dwelling in a world that bore semblance to a medieval society.
His parents, devoted scholars studying ancient history, often wandered through the world’s archaeological relics, leaving him in the care of an elderly professor.
It wasn’t until the news of his parents’ mysterious disappearance reached him that Lance, under the stewardship of the elderly professor and profoundly influenced by his parents’ leftover research, developed into a scholar of antiquity himself.
However, just as Lance was about to graduate from the academy and embark on a quest to find his parents, a letter found its way to his hands.
The deliverer was an elderly man, proclaiming himself a butler. His figure was hunched, his features gaunt, sporting a pair of worn-out round spectacles. Despite his threadbare clothing, a faded glimpse of past aristocratic grandeur was evident.
For reasons unknown, his stiff smile sent chills down Lance’s spine, evoking the dreadful image of a zombie freshly emerged from its grave.
He delivered to me news from a family I’d never heard of before—my noble distant relative had passed away, leaving behind a substantial inheritance and vast lands waiting for my succession.
As I was taken aback by this unexpected windfall, the unique symbol on the wax seal of the letter kindled a sense of unease within me.
It was a semi-arc divided by five short lines, a symbol I couldn’t decipher despite all my scholarly knowledge.
Although I felt a sense of discomfort, driven by some reason, I unsealed the envelope, yearning to know more about this distant relative and the inheritance left behind.
Then, I saw that sentence.
“Our Family Has Fallen…”
Everything came rushing back to me!
At this moment, I grasped the horrifying truth of this world. (Crown of Virtue)
“Damn it! This wretched game won’t even let me dream in peace.”
Lin Bei jerked awake as if from a nightmare, only to find himself not in his familiar room, but in constant motion, jolted by the intense shaking around him.
In the dim glow of a hanging lamp casting a yellowish illumination, Lin Bei discerned he was inside a somber, wooden carriage. Additionally, he found himself sharing the space with two other occupants.
One was a man clad in full medieval knight armor, a long sword leaning against him. The cross emblem draped across his chest hinted at his affiliation with the church.
The other, a man wrapped in an old, hard-leather coat, with a face mask covering everything below his eyes, had a short sword on one side of his waist and an antique-like flintlock pistol on the other.
So similar… too eerily similar…
The strange dream he had just experienced and the scene before him gave Lin Bei an ominous premonition. He glanced down at his clothes, a corseted overcoat styled in the medieval fashion on the outside, lined with a fine linen inlay. Below were slim trousers and riding boots.
Peering through the window, he was met with nothing but inky blackness. The glass reflected an image of a handsome young man with raven-black hair, embodying an air of scholarly delicacy.
The carriage lamp illuminated merely a couple of meters, before being swallowed by the encroaching darkness. Despite this, he could still make out the distorted trees and haphazardly arranged tombstones along the roadside.
Could it really be?
Recognizing the scene, Lin Bei was all too aware of what had transpired. Regardless, he forced himself to search for the letter on his person, seeking some final solace.
As he read the first line, he had no choice but to accept the reality.
He had been transported through time, and was now in the world of a game.
One moment he was Lin Bei, an ordinary person playing a game at his computer; the next, he was Lance, the heir, barrelling along the old road in a carriage.
Yet, this revelation filled him with profound dread. The indescribable pressure was like a boulder pressing on his chest, even making breathing an exhausting struggle, nearly driving him to the brink of collapse.
If he were indeed journeying to inherit a noble’s estate, he’d laugh himself to death. Despite the chaos of the Middle Ages, inheriting a noble estate would catapult him from commoner to aristocrat. Then, a little exploitation of the serfs, and all would be done—a windfall such as this could come his way!
However, the problem lay in the world of the game he had been transported into—the overarching theme was one of despair and darkness.
The main plotline revolved around a patriarch, weary of his luxurious life, who discovered an ancient deity beneath the ancestral mansion. He then commenced a series of explorations and investigations, either directly or indirectly spawning numerous troubles.
Having witnessed the sealed evil deity underground, the patriarch started scheming for godhood. He left a letter, bequeathing all the troubles to the protagonist, instructing him to slaughter in the name of the family, on the family’s lands. Every life claimed on this soil would contribute to the patriarch’s ascension.
As a player, one would have to grapple with unimaginable enemies, famine, disease, and the ceaseless erosion of sanity. In the end, they would have to slay the patriarch to prevent the evil deity from descending and bringing about the world’s ruin.
Here, perhaps no one understood better than him that what he was inheriting wasn’t a noble estate, but rather a meat grinder consuming flesh and blood.
Lying within were adversaries, beasts, filth, strange demons, blood kin… an array of monstrous creatures. Moreover, he would have to battle against famine, curses, plagues, and human nature itself.
In a game, even a grueling experience left room for restarts, opportunities to amass experience and strength. Yet in real life, particularly in this world brimming with despair and impending doom, every path seemed to inexorably lead to destruction.
At this thought, Lin Bei instinctively clutched at his thick black hair, hands locked around his skull.
I yearn for home—the torment was insurmountable.
“Ding! The service you subscribed to is now available, please check.”
Yet, the unexpected sound managed to brush aside his simmering anxiety and stir a wave of manic elation within him.
Gazing at the panel that had appeared before him, he understood that the cheat was finally at his disposal.
……
Name: Lance Hamlet
Profession: Otherworlder
Rank: Transmigrator
Equipment: None
Skills:
[Sacrifice]: Offer your enemies to an unknown entity in exchange for rewards
[Blessing]: Consume rewards to grant enhancements
Traits:
[Sanctuary]: Your soul is shielded by an unknown entity, protecting it from harm
[Ancient Bloodline]: The blood coursing through your veins endows you with inspiration far beyond the mortal realm
[Heir]: Your status as a noble heir is compelling
[Prodigious Talent]: Your formidable talent enhances your learning efficiency
……
“So, am I to be called Lance now?” he mused aloud.
Residing in an epoch characterized by the cataclysm of information, Lin Bei’s capacity to assimilate and seize information proved exceptional, promptly accepting his newfound identity and skillfully extracting critical insights from the information panel.
The [Otherworlder] – an unfamiliar profession unseen in any game, could be discerned from the integration of the term and the explanation of the [Sacrifice] skill, hinting at an unknown yet potent entity, likely key to his transmigration and extraordinary abilities.
[Rank] represented the quantification of strength. In the game’s hierarchy, a Transmigrator was akin to a Level 0 blank slate, with ranks above constituting Apprentice, Brave, Elite, Master, Champion, and Legend.
The divergence between [Skills] and [Traits] lay in their activation: skills were active while traits were passive. Simultaneously, traits could embody one’s essence to a certain degree.
[Blessing] and [Prodigious Talent] corresponded to the immunity to pressure and the doubling of experience, respectively.
Furthermore, [Ancient Bloodline] corresponded to a unique characteristic within Lance’s lineage.
Possessing a high degree of inspiration within a narrative shrouded in Lovecraftian mythos might not be a blessing in disguise.
Perhaps, the family bloodline concealed secrets, which explained the anomalies displayed by the ancestors. The influence of the bloodline even allowed them to glimpse at the wicked gods sealed deep underground under the auspices of the blood ceremony.
However, these speculations must be shelved momentarily. His immediate and paramount task was to devise a strategy to ensure his survival in this unfamiliar world.