When he opened his eyes, he saw an unfamiliar ceiling.
He had transmigrated. It did not take him long to figure that out. Though he was merely a serf, he was a transmigrator—there would always be a way.
He left the room, filled with ambition.
Three days later, he died beneath the sword of a Holy See guard after being reported for spreading blasphemous beliefs.
Heaven knew, he had only said a few extra things while chatting with someone.
Fortunately, after dying, he discovered that he seemed able to reshape a new body. This was probably his golden finger, wasn't it?
When he opened his eyes again, there was an unfamiliar ceiling and an unfamiliar body.
Fifteen days later, a familiar death.
The Church held far too much power in this world. He would have to be more careful.
Reshape a body.
Two months later, death.
The gains were not bad. At least he had learned plenty about the Church. It turned out they had planted spies among every ten households to monitor the entire village.
Reshape a body.
Five days later, death.
Damn it. He had forgotten that candlelight could carry sound. Next time, he would put out every candle first!
Reshape a body.
Two years and three months later, death.
Had he failed again? His companions... No, he had to hurry and warn them!
Reshape a body.
Thirteen days later, death.
What was going on? There was another continent? And new Churches and new gods? Just how many gods were there in this world?
Forget it. All these Churches were the same.
Reshape a body.
Four years later, death.
He had never expected her to betray him... Heh, it did not matter. The seeds of rebellion had already been sown. You ravaged the mortal world in the name