On a desolate road, the crimson sun blazed in the sky, casting light and heat across the land.
From a place where plants grew thickly, a faint sound gradually drifted over from ahead.
Crack!
A long procession moved along the road. The carriage wheels occasionally struck stones at the roadside, making clattering sounds and jolting the carriage.
The coachman driving at the front was a middle-aged man with callused hands. When he noticed the carriage lurch from hitting a stone, he cautiously glanced toward the back, seeming afraid he might wake the person behind him.
At the rear of the carriage, a boy lay quietly on golden dry grass. Several wounds gaped across his body. Though they had been treated briefly, blood still seeped from them, staining the soft grass beneath him red.
Perhaps because of the carriage's jolting, the wounds on the boy's body were disturbed. His previously peaceful face twisted at once, as if he were suffering excruciating pain.
"What's wrong?"
From behind came the low whinny of a horse, followed by a man's deep voice.
A knight escorting the procession saw the carriage stop and rode over to question the coachman.
"My lord, the carriage axle seems to have broken. It'll take a little time to repair."
The coachman looked troubled as he faced the knight and spoke in a low voice.
Hearing this, the knight furrowed his brows. "What a nuisance."
It was just around midday. The knight looked up at the sky, felt the scorching heat, and heard the faint, weary panting around him. In the end, he ordered the procession to stop temporarily and rest and eat in a shady spot.
At the order, the accompanying soldiers all looked excited, some eager to find a place to rest for a while.
But however impatient they were, they never let their guard down. After stopping, they sent several knights to scout the surroundings and check for dangers or traps.
However, that earlier jolt had already begun to wake the person in the carriage.
Stirred by the pain in his body, Chen Ming slowly opened his eyes.
Exhaustion! Pain! Misery!
Once his mind had cleared, the pain and exhaustion in his body became vivid, bringing him abruptly to his senses. He sucked in a sharp breath.
"Where... am I?"
Feeling the exhaustion and pain in his body, along with the burning sensation coming from his many wounds, Chen Ming wondered. Then a flood of memories surged into his mind, completely overwhelming his thoughts.
They were the memories of a thirteen-year-old boy named Ardis.
According to those memories, Ardis had been born into an ordinary baronial family. He was the sole heir to a landed barony. Since he had shown a natural talent for knighthood from a young age, he had been sent two or three years ago to train at the castle of Count Polia, a kinsman of Ardis's father.
In this region, Count Polia was the undisputed ruler. As one of the count's kinsmen, Ardis's father had naturally sought to ingratiate himself with him. So, early on, he had sent Ardis, his heir, to the count's castle both to receive better training and education and to demonstrate his loyalty.
Some time ago, scattered Orc tribes from the north had suddenly moved south and raided the territory of the Kingdom of Arius. As the leading lord of the northern territories, Count Polia had sent an army to join the surrounding lords in repelling the Orc invasion. Thirteen-year-old Ardis had gone on the campaign with the army, but he charged too far ahead and was wounded when several Orc Warriors surrounded him. He eventually died, and Chen Ming took over his body.
As the memories reached this point, the fatigue that had kept drifting through his mind gradually faded. A cool sensation surfaced after the burning heat, and Chen Ming, who had been suffering terribly, regained his clarity.
"So I really did transmigrate again."
Feeling the memories welling up in his mind, along with the intense pain constantly coming from his wounds, Chen Ming struggled to raise an arm and touch his face.
Something sticky had dried on his face. Ardis wiped it away and found it was all caked blood, running from his right ear down to his chin. It made him very uncomfortable.
His face wasn't the only place injured. His chest, left arm, and right thigh also bore several deep wounds that throbbed with pain. Blood had nearly covered his entire body, and no one had even cleaned him.
The discovery startled him. He instinctively tried to stand, only to find he had no strength left. All he could do was brace himself against the carriage with his relatively unharmed right hand and struggle into a sitting position.
"Damn it... What's wrong with this world? Even thirteen-year-old kids have to go to war, fighting those Orcs who look like they're beyond anything ordinary people could handle."
Bracing himself against the carriage, Chen Ming managed to prop up half his body. Feeling the pain and exhaustion surging through him, he thought helplessly.
The memories in his mind still held scenes of the body's former owner fighting those Orcs. Since it had happened so recently, the memories were vivid.
In those memories, the Orcs didn't wear proper steel armor, and their faces were as savage as beasts. But they were all powerfully built, with an average height of two meters. Just looking at them was terrifying.
And their fighting strength lived up to their size and appearance. Even without training, their extraordinary strength and physique let them match fully armored soldiers while wearing only crude leather armor. If not for their small numbers, ordinary armies would have had no chance against them.
Even so, according to Ardis's memories, these terrifying Orcs weren't invincible.
The terrible wounds covering Ardis's body had come from being surrounded by several Orcs. But before that, he had killed at least a few of them. It was only after he charged too far ahead that a whole group of Orc Warriors surrounded him.
The root of it all was that this world possessed the pinnacle power of knights.
"Knight Breathing Technique..."
As he carefully recalled the memories in his mind, a unique training method surfaced in Chen Ming's thoughts. He murmured the words without thinking.
"Lord Arthur, you're awake?" A voice suddenly came from ahead, brimming with delight and interrupting Chen Ming's thoughts.
The speaker was a middle-aged man in gleaming armor, with a thick mustache and longish hair tied up in a knot. It looked greasy and long overdue for a wash. Seeing Chen Ming sitting up, he called out in delight.
He seemed to be the leader of the procession. Seeing Chen Ming's pale face and slightly reopened wounds, he hurriedly ordered several others over to help him up. They carefully supported him down from the carriage.
The people here were either soldiers or coachmen, naturally not the gentle, delicate sort. They handled him roughly, and the wounds on Chen Ming's body were tugged at once.
"Hiss..."
Feeling a sharp jolt of pain in his body, Chen Ming sucked in a sharp breath. His consciousness, which had been hazy from exhaustion and blood loss, cleared again in an instant.
With the others supporting him, he struggled to raise his head and stand, then looked around.
Several carriages stood quietly beneath the trees, where they could avoid the direct sunlight.
Behind them, people lay motionless like corpses, each covered in blood. They made a terrifying sight.
Among them, Chen Ming recognized a few people from Ardis's memories. They were either noble youths like him or young Rookie Knights. None were particularly important, but they were certainly not ordinary people.
Seeing the scene, Chen Ming began to understand.
The procession's mission was probably to transport people like him back—people of some standing who had been seriously wounded on the battlefield.
Chen Ming also noticed that aside from his own carriage, each of the others carried several wounded people.
That was good news, at least. It showed that his status among these people was probably among the highest.
"From now on, I'll go by Ardis."
When in Rome, do as the Romans do. Chen Ming repeated the name to himself twice and made his decision.
Up ahead, several soldiers took some hardtack down from a carriage. After cutting it into pieces, they handed it straight to Ardis.
The hardtack was tough and unpleasant, with a taste like rotten meat. Since it had been sitting in a carriage transporting the wounded, it was also stained with their blood. Ardis couldn't help looking troubled.
Across from Ardis, the leader seemed to notice his discomfort. He explained to Ardis, "We're still at war, so it's not a good time to light a fire. It'll be better once we're past this stretch."
Ardis gripped the hardtack in his uninjured right hand. He said nothing, merely nodding in understanding.
The wilderness in this world was far too dangerous. It teemed with all kinds of dangerous beasts, and bandits and brigands roamed freely. On top of that, they were still at war, and scattered Orc troops might be wandering around. Lighting a fire without thinking could create smoke that attracted these dangers, putting the whole procession at unnecessary risk.
Understanding this, and wanting his wounds to heal and his strength to recover sooner, Ardis forced down his disgust and ate the piece of hardtack streaked with dried blood.
The procession rested quietly beneath the trees for a while. When the sun seemed to have weakened slightly, the leader with his hair tied up gave an order. Ardis once again struggled into the foul-smelling carriage. As it jolted along, he watched the scenery on the road recede behind him.