Chapter 001: Starting Out with a Begging Bowl

"Hit him, keep hitting!"

...

Amidst the noisy shouts, William Young opened his eyes in confusion...

A sharp whistling sound suddenly pierced the air.

Immediately after, accompanied by a loud whipping sound, blood splattered before his eyes. Before he could regain his senses, a heavy blow struck his waist, sending his body tumbling to the side. A filthy, broken bowl instantly appeared in his field of vision. On the other side of the bowl was a pair of embroidered cloth shoes with cloud patterns. His gaze quickly traveled up a silk blue robe and landed on a young face...

The latter stylishly snapped open a folding fan.

"Beat this dog servant to death! You dare to run? Know that even if you run all the way to Java, you’ll still be a servant of the Fu family!"

He shouted arrogantly.

The next moment, that sharp whistling sound rang out again.

William Young's left hand shot out instinctively, instantly grabbing the falling tip of the whip. He yanked downward, and as the whip’s owner was pulled forward, he suddenly stood up and kicked out with his right foot, aiming at the man’s chest.

The man immediately lost his grip on the whip, let out a miserable scream, and was sent flying backward.

William Young grabbed the whip handle with his right hand and, without hesitation, swung his arm to lash out to the side.

The tip of the whip, with an even louder crack, slashed diagonally from the upper right to the lower left across the young man’s rather handsome face. Blood splattered as the skin split open, and the young man, with a heart-wrenching scream, fell backward. Behind him to the right, a burly man’s face changed dramatically. He caught the young man and pushed him toward a teenager behind to the left, then drew the saber at his waist, stepped forward, and slashed directly at William Young's right arm.

William Young stepped back to dodge.

"Kill him! Kill this dog servant!"

The young man, cradled in the teenager’s arms, cried and screamed like a weeping beauty.

On William Young's other side, a man with empty hands turned and snatched a carrying pole from a bystander, swinging it horizontally at William Young's waist from behind. At the same time, the burly man in front slashed horizontally with his saber, the two weapons cutting at him from both sides. Still bewildered, William Young suddenly leaned back, dodging the saber, and with a burst of strength in his legs, performed a perfect backflip just as the carrying pole swept past his back.

Cheers suddenly erupted.

Landing, William Young kicked away the man with the carrying pole.

Then, with a flick of his left foot, the falling carrying pole landed in his right hand. He held this ancient but clearly well-used, smoothly worn wooden pole in one hand and looked around.

A circle of people in ancient costumes.

Ancient shops on both sides.

A stone-paved street ahead leading straight to an old city gate...

This wasn’t some film set.

Frankly, no crew could make everything so real, so real that even the air was thick with the stench of livestock manure. No makeup artist could paint such weathered faces on everyone, and the emaciated, malnourished look of those in ragged clothes was definitely not fake...

Of course, that wasn’t important.

What mattered was that this body wasn’t his at all!

This body, draped in a tattered burlap sack, emaciated and reeking of rot, was definitely not his. This was a beggar, and there was a large, festering, maggot-infested wound on it. The broken bowl nearby was probably his only possession. Strangely, aside from the cut on his face, he didn’t feel any other pain. In fact, his perception and reaction speed were both noticeably improved. However, his strength was indeed less than before—clearly, this severely malnourished body was holding back his original abilities.

"So, can someone explain what exactly is going on here?"

He hefted the carrying pole and said sincerely.

"Kill him, hurry up and kill this dog servant!"

The young man was still screaming.

The whip mark on his face was enough to ruin his looks, a bloody welt that had even mangled his nose. The teenager beside him frantically pressed a piece of clothing to the wound to stop the bleeding. But William Young didn’t think he’d gone too far, since he had an almost identical wound on his own face. Fortunately, the servant who whipped him wasn’t as strong, so although his face was bleeding, his nose was unharmed.

That made them even.

No one answered his question.

The man with the saber across from him watched him warily, shifting his feet to shield the young man behind him.

"Move aside, all of you, move aside!"

A shout suddenly rang out from the back of the crowd.

The onlookers quickly parted, and a man wearing a Fanyang hat, dressed in a red cross-collared robe, with a saber at his waist—clearly an officer—walked in with two subordinates. Many in the crowd seemed to recognize him, calling out Edward Harris and greeting him.

William Young watched him warily.

Edward Harris walked up to the young man, glanced at his clothes, and immediately turned to the man with the saber, giving him a questioning look.

The latter lowered his voice and spoke to him.