A Classic Start for a Transmigrator?

At the southern gate of the Fortress of Radiance, a squad of cavalrymen clad in black armor and mounted on Intermediate Magical Beast Bloodflame Steeds approached in perfect formation. Their synchronized hoofbeats struck the ground like heavy hammers, producing deep, muffled booms.

As they neared the carriage Roland was riding in, the captain at the front yanked hard on his reins. The massive Bloodflame Steed reared up, let out a long neigh, and slammed its forehooves down. In an instant, it came to a stop less than three meters from the carriage.

Following his movement, the entire cavalry squad moved like an impeccable machine. Every motion was simple and precise as they effortlessly controlled their Bloodflame Steeds and halted tightly behind their captain.

Without question, this was an exceptionally elite cavalry unit, even more elite than the riders who had supposedly escorted Roland home while actually monitoring him. Their actions alone made that clear. When the squad arrived before the carriage, every one of them slightly bowed and pressed a clenched right fist against their left chest in salute.

The low cries from the people around the city walls also showed that this was not merely an elite cavalry unit, but one renowned far and wide.

"Ah, it's the Solomon Family's Radiant Cavalry Regiment."

"As expected of the elite among elites. They're all riding Level 4 Magical Beast Bloodflame Steeds. How much gold would that cost?" a merchant traveling through the kingdom cried out in shock.

But as soon as he finished speaking, a man beside him wearing light armor looked at him with disdain.

"What a fuss. What are Level 4 Magical Beasts? I heard that the Solomon Family's most elite cavalry squad all rides High-level Magical Beast Gale Warwolves."

"The Gale Warwolves said to travel three thousand li a day?" The merchant let out another startled cry.

The crowd's murmurs did not cause the cavalry squad to react in the slightest.

The captain, whose entire body was concealed within his armor, looked at the somewhat worn carriage, and a trace of confusion flashed through his eyes. But as a soldier, his obedience kept him from entertaining any thought of looking further into it.

"Young Master Roland, the patriarch summons you." His hoarse, heavy voice easily penetrated the carriage and reached Roland's ears.

"Roland, Roland," Roland softly repeated the name, one that represented justice and courage.

From this day onward, this name represented Li Chen's vanished past, as well as his new life in this world.

Seeing that there was still no movement from the carriage, the lead knight spoke again. "Young Master Roland, the patriarch summons you."

This time, however, his voice was far sterner, carrying an unmistakable sense that he could not be defied.

Roland did not delay, nor did he dare to. From the memories of the body's previous owner, he knew that he had no room to act willfully before this family. He quickly gripped the edge of the carriage, pulled aside the heavy curtain, and looked toward the knight calling for him.

The knight was fully encased in armor, revealing only a pair of eyes so utterly indifferent that Roland could not help feeling a chill run down his spine.

"Young Master, get down here." Old Nob, who had been waiting beside the carriage, finally breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Roland emerge and hurried forward to support him.

"Young Master Roland, come with me at once to meet the patriarch." The cavalry captain spoke again, still in that cold, stern tone that allowed no refusal.

"Alright." Roland, who had just stepped onto the ground, nodded and answered softly.

After Roland nodded, the captain pulled on the reins, and the Bloodflame Steed immediately rushed to Roland's side. Before Roland could react, the captain grabbed him and pulled him up in front of him. Then the entire squad cracked their reins and swiftly returned to the castle, vanishing from the crowd's sight.

Watching the cavalry squad disappear, Old Nob's face filled with concern. But as a servant, before this immense castle, he possessed no power to change the situation.

Meanwhile, Roland, tightly held by the cavalry captain atop the Bloodflame Steed, had no pleasant experience at all. The knight raced through the city's narrow streets without the slightest concern for him, and the bone-cutting winds unique to the northern lands constantly poured through Roland's poorly fitting Mage Robe.

In less than a moment, Roland's body gradually began to grow cold.

As a Level 4 Mage, Roland should not have been in such a miserable state. But the Chip had exhausted the last of his Mental Power earlier. Although he had taken a Spirit Recovery Potion, a Level 3 potion obviously could not restore him to normal in such a short time.

So Roland could only grip his sleeves tightly, narrow his eyes, and silently endure it all.

At last, after passing through two city walls, the cavalry squad slowly came to a stop before a castle towering atop a mountain peak.

Before the castle gates stood a middle-aged man dressed in a butler's uniform. He appeared kind and carried himself with elegance.

Yet the instant Roland saw the man from horseback, his pupils instinctively contracted, and a trace of fear rose from the depths of his heart. Clearly, this man had left the body's previous owner with some unbearable memories.

"Butler Gerson, Young Master Roland has been brought here." Upon seeing the middle-aged man, the cavalry captain immediately dismounted and lowered his head in respect.

The middle-aged man nodded lightly, then looked toward Roland, who was still on horseback. A flawless smile appeared on his face.

Gentle, warm, radiant.

But only Roland knew how terrifying this man truly was.

Eighty percent of the miserable experiences the previous owner had suffered in childhood had come from the man before him.

At best, there had been beatings and scoldings. At worst, whippings. The previous owner had only managed to leave the Fortress of Radiance alive because of Old Nob's desperate care.

"Young Master Roland, it has been a long time."

The man's cordial greeting made Roland freeze for a moment. In his memories, the man had never once treated him this way.

Even though Roland had inherited the previous owner's hatred, he knew that he still had no room to resist today. Thus, he revealed no trace of hatred and replied quietly, "It has been a long time, Butler Gerson."

Seeing Roland as calm as still water, a flicker of surprise flashed deep within the middle-aged man's eyes. The youth before him seemed vastly different from the one in his memories.

However, they had not met for so many years, and a change in personality was only natural, so it did not arouse his suspicion.

"Young Master Roland, the master summons you. Please follow me." Gerson said nothing more and extended a hand in invitation.

"Alright." Roland dismounted and followed behind the middle-aged man, stepping into the Solomon Family's core castle.

Faced with the castle's familiar yet unfamiliar interior, Roland carefully observed his surroundings.

At the same time, he secretly pondered the Solomon Family's attitude toward him and wondered why it had changed so drastically.

He had only just arrived at the city gate today, yet the Solomon Family had dispatched a cavalry squad to receive him. They had clearly prepared for his arrival in advance.

Butler Gerson, who had once been ruthless and vicious toward him, now wore a springlike smile.

This was treatment the previous owner had never received in his memories.

Could it simply be because he had become an Intermediate Mage?

But from what Roland currently knew, an Intermediate Mage was not worth mentioning to the Solomon Family, which held a hereditary marquis title.

Could there be some conspiracy? A faint unease immediately rose in Roland's heart.

But just then, a sharp feminine shout exploded beside Roland's ear.

"Roland? You damned bastard, why are you here?"

"Roland? The Roland who stole our family's bloodline?"

Roland frowned and looked up.

A young woman in her early twenties was walking toward them from deep within the castle.

She wore a long white dress that accentuated her slender waist. Her reddish-brown hair was smooth and soft, curling down around her neck. Her fair, delicate skin brimmed with vitality, and her exquisite features seemed carefully sculpted by a master craftsman.

However, Roland's first impression of her was far from favorable. The young woman was pointing at him with a face full of fury, as though his very presence here was an immense insult to her.

Beside her stood a teenage boy. His face bore a faint resemblance to Roland's, and he too wore luxurious clothing.

"Third Miss, Fourth Young Master, the patriarch wishes to see Young Master Roland." Before Roland could answer, Butler Gerson hastily bent at the waist and reported in a low, humble voice.

His attitude was worlds apart from how he had treated Roland.

The former had seemed like charity bestowed from above, while the latter was reverent submission tinged with fear.

"Sister, you still haven't answered my question. Is he the Roland you told me about?" the boy asked curiously.

"Yes, that damned bastard." After answering viciously, the girl lifted her skirt, stomped heavily on the ground, and lunged toward Roland.

Facing the rapidly approaching girl, Roland, who had been silently observing the situation and searching through the previous owner's memories, finally sensed that something was wrong.

But the girl was clearly a professional no weaker than him, and she was also a warrior.

The outcome of an Intermediate Mage being approached by a warrior of the same level was obvious.

Thus, before Roland could make any move, the girl kicked him in the chest and sent him flying.

Pfft.

That powerful kick made Roland spit out a mouthful of thick blood after crashing to the ground.

But the injury to his body was far less painful than the blow to his pride.

Damn it, I actually got beaten up by a woman. That was Roland's first reaction. He immediately struggled furiously, wanting to rise and fight the woman to the death.

But then a foot descended from above and stomped onto his chest, smashing him hard against the ground and leaving him unable to move.

The girl's round, slender foot showed no mercy as it pressed fiercely against Roland's already injured ribs, steadily applying more force.

Roland's face twisted in pain, and agonized growls escaped from his throat.

Looking down at Roland beneath her foot, the girl bent over and said condescendingly, "Why aren't you dead yet?"

The sight immediately stirred memories from the previous owner's past.

In that dark basement years ago, the previous owner had been six, while the girl had been eight. She had likewise stomped him viciously onto the cold ground and asked the very same question.

The unfamiliar memories instantly told Roland the girl's name and identity.

The third daughter of Junot, patriarch of the Solomon Family, and the beloved jewel of the entire Solomon Family—Alinur Solomon.

But times had changed. Roland, now replaced by Li Chen, was no longer the weak youth who had once known nothing but submission.

"You damned hag, get the hell off me!" Roland tightly grabbed the girl's powerful calf with both hands and shoved outward with all his strength.

But embarrassingly, even after using every ounce of strength in his body, Roland failed to move her at all.

"What did you say? Hag? You damned bastard, what gave you the nerve to insult me?" Roland's curse made Alinur fly into a rage, her exquisite features twisting together with fury.

Consumed by rage, Alinur somehow produced a sharp dagger and immediately slashed it toward Roland's throat.

Holy shit, she's serious? Roland was utterly horrified as he watched the dagger stab toward him.

He truly had not expected Alinur to genuinely intend to kill him, much less act on that intention so decisively.

This was also the first time since transmigrating that he had witnessed the dangers of this world. One wrong word, and blades were drawn.