The owl and the letter

1989, on the outskirts of London.

Afternoon sunlight spilled over the hills of northern Essex County.

Gerald lay lazily in the soft grass, a sage stem between his lips, enjoying the rare sunshine.

He squinted up at the clouds, watching the cotton-candy masses drift slowly north.

"Another day."

Gerald murmured the words silently to himself.

He was eleven this year, and it had been almost twelve years since he had crossed over into this world.

In a sense, this should not have been called crossing over. Reincarnation would have been more accurate.

Having once lived in the great Eastern nation of the twenty-first century, he had never imagined that reincarnation actually existed.

As for why he had ended up in London, England, decades in the past, or why he still retained his memories of his previous life, he preferred not to dwell on it.

His circumstances in this life had not been particularly good either. He had been born into a farming family in northern Essex County.

His father and grandfather had died in an accident when he was three, and his mother had passed away from overwhelming grief a year later.

Fortunately, their neighbor Grandpa Henry and Uncle Jack's family had looked after him, allowing him to survive to this day.

A start like that was no big deal to him.

Because he had a cheat.

A cultivation cheat, no less.

[Name] Gerard Green

[Lifespan] 11/93

[Cultivation] Eighth layer of chain-form refining essence (968/1600)

[Cultivation method] Divine Firmament Five-Elements Heavenly Thunder Art

[Techniques] None

He glanced at the translucent panel floating in the air, visible only to him.

The Divine Firmament Five-Elements Heavenly Thunder Art cultivated both spirit and body, and chain-form essence refinement was only its first stage.

Chain-form essence refinement meant regulating one's vital energy and blood and tempering the body through meditation, stance training, martial arts, and similar practices, replenishing deficiencies in one's innate essence.

Although the spiritual energy here was thin and cultivation was slow, Gerald did not mind.

Being able to cultivate at all in a world without supernatural powers was already good enough.

What more could he ask for?

Nine years ago, when he had been a tiny child who had only just learned to walk.

He had begun following the chain-form essence refinement section of the Divine Firmament Five-Elements Heavenly Thunder Art, absorbing the scant spiritual energy in the air to temper his muscles and bones.

Back then, Grandpa Henry had always wondered why this child disliked playing with the other children and preferred holding a horse stance in front of the old oak tree.

Gerald could not explain.

He could only play dumb, letting the adults assume it was some strange game he had invented.

It was not until he split a log meant for winter heating with a single palm strike at eight years old that Grandpa Henry's kindly expression turned to horror.

"Gerald," the old man had said, crouching down and staring at the neatly split surface for a long time, "don't tell anyone about this."

Gerald had nodded.

From then on, he had been more careful about his cultivation.

Gerald looked down at his right hand, loosely curling his fingers before opening them again.

After nine years, he could lift almost five hundred pounds with one hand.

The ability to lift five hundred pounds single-handedly was enough to fill him with confidence in this version of 1989, where supernatural powers did not exist.

Gerald rolled over and sat up, glancing at the sheep down the slope.

A dozen or so sheep grazed leisurely. Two little ones chased each other around, rolling from the top of the slope to the bottom before standing up, shaking out their wool, and resuming their play.

"About time to head home."

He stood up and brushed the grass clippings off his trousers.

Wisps of cooking smoke were already rising from the chimney of the distant house. Grandpa Henry was probably busy in the kitchen.

The old man's thick vegetable soup was one of Gerald's favorite tastes of this era.

Gerald picked up the wooden staff leaning against the tree trunk. He had cut this piece of hawthorn wood, thicker than an adult's arm, himself when he was eight.

After nearly four years of use, his grip had polished it smooth and glossy.

The sheep were obedient, as though they knew the way themselves. He barely needed to bother with them; all he had to do was follow slowly behind.

Gerald's gaze passed over the rolling fields and settled on the familiar church steeple.

The town was called "Nameless." It really was named Nameless Town.

That was what the map said.

Though called a town, it was actually smaller than a village in his previous life, with only a little over a hundred households.

Whenever someone had a baby, a couple argued, or a widow exchanged flirtatious glances with a bachelor, everyone in town knew.

Grandpa Henry should have dinner ready by now.

At the thought of the stooped old man, Gerald's gaze softened.

His memories of his parents and grandfather had already begun to blur.

What truly filled his childhood memories were Grandpa Henry's calloused hands and Uncle Jack carrying him on his shoulders through the wheat fields.

These relatives who shared none of his blood had given him the most dependable warmth.

Gerald followed the sheep at an unhurried pace.

Just as his gaze swept over the grass on the ground, a message suddenly appeared on the panel.

[Low-grade Spirit Herb detected: Ironwire Vine.]

Gerald raised an eyebrow, strode over to the dark-brown Spirit Herb that resembled a withered vine, and pulled it out in one tug.

Ever since discovering his first Spirit Herb at five years old, he had grown accustomed to finding them over the years.

Without these Spirit Herbs, he could never have reached the eighth layer of chain-form refining essence in eight or nine years in a world with such thin spiritual energy.

"Gerald!"

Just then, a shout came from the distance. Gerald knew who it was without turning around.

It was Luke, Uncle Jack's eldest son, who was two years older than him.

Luke wobbled down the dirt slope on his bicycle, its basket rattling and clanking.

"Guess what I saw?"

Luke braked sharply in front of Gerald, his face flushed bright red, whether from exertion or excitement.

Gerald glanced at him. "Did you peep on another widow bathing?"

"No... how could you slander me like that?"

"I'm just asking, was she fair-skinned?"

"Yes... no, listen to me."

Luke's face reddened further before he continued.

"I was just peeping by the little river to the west... no, picking up stones by the river, and I saw an owl flying through the sky with a letter in its beak!"

Gerald's steps faltered.

An owl carrying a letter?

Gerard said nothing, only lifting his head to look at the

sky.

The setting sun had dyed the clouds orange-red, and the occasional bird flew past on its way back to its nest.

Everything was ordinary. Nothing unusual.

But Luke's words had stirred something in a corner of his heart.

An owl and a letter.

Those two words together always reminded him of certain things he had seen in his previous life.

But how could that be possible?

He had lived in this world for almost twelve years, and it was no different from the Britain he knew.

Mrs Thatcher was still in power, and Britain was still arguing back and forth about joining the European Community.

He had never seen any supernatural powers either.

"You're overthinking it." Gerald lowered his gaze. "Maybe someone's pet got out."

Luke wanted to argue, but the sheep had already turned into town, so they had no choice but to follow.

Grandpa Henry's cottage stood at the eastern end of town. It was an old house built from gray stone, with dark roof tiles and cooking smoke rising from its chimney.

When they pushed open the wooden gate, several chickens scattered across the yard, clucking.

"You're back?" An elderly voice came from inside. "Wash your hands and come eat."

Dinner was mashed potatoes with fried sausages, along with a large bowl of thick vegetable soup.

Grandpa Henry sat across the table, his deeply wrinkled face looking especially kindly under the light.

"How were the sheep today?"

"Good. They spent all day grazing on the slope."

"Mm." Grandpa Henry nodded, looking at Gerald with his cloudy eyes. "The school in town will be starting soon. Are you going?"

Gerald fell silent for a moment.

The local school only taught children up to twelve. After that, they either went to the city to continue their education or stayed in the town to farm and raise sheep.

By 1989, the wealth gap in Essex County was already severe, and these nameless villages and towns in the north were undoubtedly on the poorer side.

Going to school in the city would certainly cost a fair amount of money.

Grandpa Henry did not say it outright, but Gerald knew what he was thinking.

This child is too clever to be trapped on a farm.

"We'll see."

Gerald lowered his head and drank his soup, letting the subject drop.

That night, Gerald sat cross-legged on his little bed in the attic, gazing at the stars through the skylight.

He began practicing the Divine Firmament Five-Elements Heavenly Thunder Art, and a faint, almost imperceptible current of warmth circulated through his body.

He was at the eighth layer of chain-form refining essence, with a little less than half the distance to the ninth still to go.

At this rate, he could probably break through to the ninth layer of chain-form refining essence before Christmas this year.

With another six months, he might be able to attempt a breakthrough to refining essence into qi.

By then, he would begin to master some of the arts of immortal cultivators.

As for the realms beyond that, they were still far too distant.

After all, this world's spiritual energy was very thin, and he did not know whether he could continue smoothly along this path.

But he had to try.

If nothing else, once he achieved success in cultivation, he would naturally have the ability to earn money.

With his memories of his previous life, once he had some starting capital, and with this panel helping him, what couldn't he have?

Giving Grandpa Henry and Uncle Jack's family a better life would be easy then.

Fortunately, Spirit Herbs still exist in this world. If there are Spirit Herbs, there might also be places rich in spiritual energy. I'll definitely be able to break through.

With that thought, Gerald closed his eyes, preparing to sink into cultivation.

But just then, a fluttering sound came from outside the window.

It was quiet, yet exceptionally clear in the silence of the night.

Gerald's eyes snapped open.

Outside the skylight, a grayish-brown owl was looking at him with its head tilted, a thick letter clutched in its talons.

An owl.

A letter?

Luke's words from that afternoon flashed through Gerald's mind, and an utterly absurd premonition suddenly rose within him.

He opened the window, and the owl fluttered inside, landing on the wooden chest beside his bed.

Then a letter dropped in front of him.

The owl stood there and hooted twice, its round eyes fixed on Gerald as though it were waiting for something.

The envelope was made of heavy parchment, with a red wax seal at its opening. The design on the seal.

Was a lion, a snake, a badger, and an eagle surrounding the letter "H."

Gerald stared at the seal for three seconds, then slowly turned the envelope over and saw the words written in emerald-green ink:

Essex County

Nameless Town

The attic at Henry Hall's home

Mr Gerard Green.

Gerald hurriedly tore open the seal and pulled out the letter inside.

The very first line left him stunned.

The writing on the letter inside the envelope was in the same emerald-green ink:

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(President of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chairman of the Wizards' Association, Order of Merlin, First Class)

Huh-huh? Huh, huh, huh, huh!