When the first ray of dawn sunlight fell, the "old man" hanging from the cross in the square remained utterly unaware.
It was not until over half an hour later, when more and more spectators entered and the growing clamor finally made him raise his head.
"So hot."
The sunlight shone directly into his crystallized pupils. The unbearable stabbing pain brought a burning sensation that pierced deep into his brain.
The increasing "noise" by his ears—the pointing and whispering that would once have enraged the proud, hypersensitive man enough to make him slaughter people—could no longer draw even a trace of his attention.
He was still alive, yet he was like a dried corpse hung up to rot.
His will remained in yesterday, in the moment when that person had come to see him alone.
"Well, if it isn't Rule-level classmate Zhao Yan? It's only been a few days. How did you end up such a mess?"
That familiar, friendly figure, paired with another familiar voice and tone, made Zhao Yan's long-dead heart pound violently once more.
He raised his head, his face full of disbelief.
When the words of his homeland mingled with the face of a foreign race, it felt as if he had awakened from a dream across lifetimes and returned home. Only then did he understand everything.
"So that's it... So that's it..."
Before him, the wealthy merchant who had yet to display any direct hostility smiled and conjured a wooden chair, then sat down as casually as could be.
He still wore that arrogant yet friendly smile, but as he did so, his feathers shrank away one by one while his body grew larger and taller.
A few seconds later, when the transformation ended, a young man sat on the chair with one leg crossed