Chapter 1: Henry Brooks

The twelfth year of Zhenguan.

Duke of Yi's residence.

In the tranquil rear courtyard, a silver magpie tree swayed in the wind, casting dappled shadows.

Beneath the tree, Henry Brooks wore a white training outfit, wielding a tiger-head spear with fierce, dragon-like movements—roaring skyward like a divine dragon emerging from its lair, supple as a giant python coiling, moving with perfect fluidity, as swift as rolling thunder, thrusting out a white wave of air, as delicate as threading a needle, revealing true mastery in the subtlest details. His footwork flowed like water, light as a butterfly.

Three days ago, Henry Brooks was ordered to lead a team to attack a drug lord's base in the Golden Triangle. While withdrawing after completing the mission, he was ambushed by a third-party force. Staying behind alone to cover the retreat, he was struck by a missile and found himself in the glorious Tang Dynasty, inhabiting the body of the legitimate son of Duke of Yi, William Brooks, becoming the young master of the grand ducal household.

After absorbing the memories, Henry Brooks discovered the original owner was only fourteen, yet already 1.7 meters tall, strong and robust, just as masculine and handsome as his previous self, and also an imperial guard officer—Qian Niu Beishen, sixth rank. After his shift, he drank heavily with friends Charles Carter and Brian Atwood, was ambushed on the way home, and thus Henry Brooks took over his body.

William Brooks had only recently passed away, and already someone had targeted his legitimate son. This made Henry Brooks extremely vigilant.

In close combat with cold weapons, Henry Brooks feared no enemy, but cavalry and infantry battles were not his strengths. For the past three days, he had focused on practicing the family spear and mace techniques by day, familiarizing himself with this body, and at night, reading the military books left by William Brooks by lamplight. He also secretly observed and cautiously dealt with the people in the residence, relying on the original owner's memories to avoid any slip-ups.

He wasn't sure if it was a benefit of transmigration, but his strength increased daily, far surpassing the original owner.

The tiger-head spear moved like a dragon, stirring up gusts of wind with a buzzing roar.

"Ha!"

With a clear shout, the tiger-head spear pierced a thick wooden stake as wide as two people could embrace, splitting it in half.

"Young master! Young master!"

Almost simultaneously, a pleasant voice rang out.

A young girl came running joyfully, her bright eyes and white teeth shining. Her green lotus-patterned scholar's dress perfectly accentuated her graceful figure, exuding a fresh elegance amid her youthful innocence, lively as a lotus bud just beginning to bloom. Her eyes sparkled as if they could speak.

Seeing the split wooden stake, the girl exclaimed in delight, "Wow, young master, you're amazing!"

Henry Brooks also stared in a daze at the split stake. On the first day, only a small part of the spearhead went in; on the second day, most of it; now, it went all the way through and even split the stake. This strength—so great!

"Young master, the steward requests an audience!" the girl sweetly added.

Henry Brooks stood the spear aside, exhaled deeply, and relaxed his tense muscles. Looking at the girl, he felt a strange excitement. This was his personal maid, Helen, who had been sold into service at age six and took care of the original owner's daily life. According to Tang custom, she would become his future concubine. Though just of age, she was already as beautiful as a sprite; a little older and she might bring ruin to a nation.

"Let's go!"

Henry Brooks set the tiger-head spear aside, grabbed a cloth to casually wipe his sweat, tossed it on the wooden rack, and walked toward the front courtyard, instructing as he went, "Helen, have someone prepare hot water."

"Yes!" Helen replied cheerfully, following along.

Arriving at the front courtyard, he saw a middle-aged man waiting anxiously. Dressed plainly, one sleeve hung empty, but his eyes were especially sharp. This was the steward, Edward Grant, commander of William Brooks's personal guard, loyal and brave, who lost his arm shielding William Brooks from a blade.

Their shared military background made Henry Brooks feel a strong affinity for the loyal steward. He quickened his pace and asked, "Uncle Grant, is there something you need?"

Edward Grant's face darkened, as if he wanted to speak but hesitated.

Henry Brooks, skilled at reading micro-expressions, knew this was no small matter, so he asked directly, "Uncle Grant, have you found the culprit? Just tell me. I may be young, but I'm not afraid of trouble."

Only then did Edward Grant say, "The yamen sent word—the culprit was found outside the city, already killed. No identity could be determined. They say he was a vagrant who attacked you for money, then fought with his accomplices over the spoils after leaving the city. The survivor took the money and fled, so the case is listed as unsolved."

"Do you believe that story?" Henry Brooks's gaze turned cold.

"Of course not."

"Who do you suspect?"

"The Wang family!"

Henry Brooks's eyes instantly narrowed dangerously. According to the original owner's memories, there were five great surnames and seven prominent clans in the Tang Dynasty: the Li clan of Longxi, the Li clan of Zhao Commandery, the Cui clan of Boling, the Cui clan of Qinghe, the Lu clan of Fanyang, the Zheng clan of Xingyang, and the Wang clan of Taiyuan. They were of the highest status, monopolizing the land, economy, culture, public opinion, and officialdom of the Tang, acting domineeringly and capriciously, not even giving John Thompson any face.

A hundred years of emperors, a thousand years of noble families.

The five surnames and seven clans had existed since the Qin, and by the Tang had lasted a thousand years, standing high above all, natural rivals to the founding nobles of the Tang. Could it be that, with William Brooks gone, he had become an easy target, and the aristocratic families killed him as a warning to John Thompson? Henry Brooks asked in a low voice, "Uncle Grant, why do you suspect the Wang family?"