After sitting up from a suspicious black metal box, Gao Wen found himself in a state of utter confusion. In fact, even the act of "sitting up" was something he had done unconsciously.
An unprecedented wave of chaos and dizziness assailed his mind. He felt a buzzing noise filling his ears, his entire body was flooded with a wild and indistinguishable series of sensations, and everything in front of him appeared in at least four overlapping shadows.
Two of those shadows were even in black and white. However, amid all this confusion, his ability to think hadn't completely vanished.
Perhaps he should be grateful to whoever had struck the back of his hand with a stick earlier—because at the brink of being swallowed by the chaos, that sharp pain granted him a precious moment of clarity.
But that hit was truly painful...
As his mind gradually returned to order, Gao Wen finally remembered the events that had happened before. There was the abrupt interruption in his vision, the activation of some sort of "escape program," the sensation of a continuous fall, and now…
This real, tangible, and moveable body.
A body!
He had obtained a body!
After who knows how many thousands of years of drifting through the unknown, almost believing he was forever bound to a third-person, bird's-eye view, Gao Wen had finally acquired a body!
The mental disarray was understandable, and so were the chaotic sensations coming from all over his body. For countless years, he had lacked any perception beyond vision.
Though his consciousness had somehow remained intact, adapting to the newfound sensations of heat, cold, pain, and itchiness was still overwhelming.
But Gao Wen could feel himself quickly adjusting to this body, and adapting to the myriad sensations of being back in the physical world. As the dizziness in his head subsided slightly, his blurred, quadruple-vision finally returned to normal, and the surrounding scene came into focus.
The first thing he saw was a group of four burly men armed to the teeth standing a short distance away. One of them, a middle-aged man with graying hair, wore a robust-looking steel armor, his muscles so well-developed they seemed to bulge up to his forehead, and he held a silver-gray longsword in his hand. The armor and weapons of the other three were much simpler, yet they bore the marks of standard issue gear.
A petite girl knelt on the ground, pressed down by these four brawny men. Due to her hair obscuring her face and the angle, her features weren't visible, but he could glimpse a pointed ear peeking through her hair.
Further away stood a woman in a red dress. Her face was refined, her figure full of elegance and maturity—she was the kind of beauty that naturally drew Gao Wen's gaze.
But soon, he noticed the anxiety and fear barely concealed in the mature woman's eyes.
Yet the noise beside him quickly diverted Gao Wen's attention. Turning his head, he saw a girl, no older than sixteen or seventeen, scrambling down from the stone platform he was lying on. She held a metal rod that looked like it would hurt a lot if used to hit someone…
Recalling where she had just been standing, Gao Wen's expression turned a bit odd. "Was it… you who hit me just now?"
The words slipped out, and he froze for a moment. He realized he hadn't spoken in Chinese but in a language he had never heard before. Yet, somehow, this unfamiliar language felt as natural as his own.
Rebecca, however, had no idea what was racing through her "ancestor's" mind. The young noble girl, who had just inherited a viscount title and now faced a major upheaval, was on the verge of tears. "Ancestor… I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…"
"I…" Gao Wen still had no clue what was going on. Although he had watched this world from the sky for many years, seeing it from a first-person perspective was a first, and he was undoubtedly more bewildered than anyone present. "You all are…"
The elegant woman in the red dress appeared to be the calmest one in the room. After Gao Wen sat up and actively tried to speak, the tension and fear on her face visibly lessened.
She took a step forward—still visibly guarded but composed—and asked, "Do you know who you are?"
"Me?" Gao Wen hesitated. But before blurting out his name, he shivered and quickly realized he was supposed to be someone else now.
He looked down at the box he had been lying in. Though its design was strange, it was unmistakably a coffin. Glancing at the surroundings, he noted that, although the space was more spacious than his house in his previous life, it unmistakably resembled a tomb…
With the expressions on the people around him, Gao Wen realized one thing: he had just come back from the dead.
At this moment, if he uttered any name that didn't match the identity of the "corpse" he was now occupying, he'd likely be instantly dealt with as a demonic spirit. What had that young girl called him earlier?
"Ancestor," right? Gao Wen could make an educated guess that he had taken possession of this ancestor's body. For now, he wouldn't dwell on what strange diet had allowed this ancestor's body to remain preserved after all these years. The pressing issue was that, as a foreign soul, he was now inhabiting someone else's ancestor's body, lying in someone else's ancestor's tomb, and he had just kicked the lid off someone else's ancestor's coffin…
The embarrassment would be beyond words if he were exposed…
With that in mind, Gao Wen lowered his head as if in thought, though he was, in reality, scrambling to come up with an excuse. Something along the lines of "experiencing a long sleep, so his memory was a bit muddled." However, as soon as he concentrated, a wave of intense dizziness washed over him.
He had just barely managed to adapt to this new body and shaken off his initial dizziness, only for a second wave to strike, making him sway and nearly fall back into the coffin. The elegant lady in the red dress noticed his odd behavior and quickly raised her staff in alarm.
It seemed she was about to cast a mighty fireball onto her ancestor's face when Gao Wen's low voice stopped her.
"Gawain Cecil. I am Gawain Cecil, Pioneer of the Kingdom of Ansu… What year is it now?"
As he spoke, he raised his head slightly, his gaze steady and profound as the sea.
But his mind was in turmoil.
Memories belonging to Gawain Cecil were pouring in, as if they were files being quickly archived on a computer's hard drive. In that brief moment of dizziness, he had accessed some of the most basic information, and he understood the identity he was now supposed to assume.
His greatest surprise was that this body's name was also "Gawain."
The only difference was that this Gawain had a different surname: Cecil.
Was this some kind of coincidence?
Gao Wen had no time to ponder the oddity of this coincidence, for Gawain Cecil's memories were still surging into his mind. He had to exert all his effort to avoid passing out or contorting his face from the strain. Amid this hazy state, he vaguely heard the girl who had smacked him with the iron staff replying in a crisp voice, "It's the year 735 of the Ansu Calendar, Ancestor. You've been sleeping for over seven hundred years…"
Upon hearing Gawain's response, the noblewoman in the red dress, Hetty, let out a deep sigh of relief. As a practitioner with extensive theoretical knowledge, she understood the nature of reanimated undead. These desecrated creatures had a fatal flaw in their souls, making them incapable of speech or thought upon first awakening.
Even the more powerful among them might regain thought quickly, but they would completely forget their past.
Additionally, they could never utter their own name. Whether they remembered it or were reminded of it, the undead would suffer a backlash from the soul flame upon speaking their own name, resulting in a burning that would be unbearable, even if it didn't "kill" them outright.
Moreover, the soul flame's backlash and scorching effects were impossible to conceal.
So, she relaxed somewhat, though she remained deeply confused. If this ancestor had not been revived as an undead, then the situation became even more inexplicable—how could a long-dead ancestor suddenly awaken?
However confused she was, she knew that the necessary respect must be shown. Stepping forward with a blend of nervousness and reverence, Hetty bowed. "Honored ancestor of the Cecil family, I am your descendant, Hetty Cecil. And here is your other descendant, Rebecca Cecil. Please forgive her for her rash behavior just now, considering her youth and inexperience, and… please forgive us for disturbing your rest."
Ah, so the young woman in front of him was his great-great-great… great-granddaughter, and the one beside her seemed to be the same. The relentless flood of memories finally ceased, and Gao Wen set aside the orderly files now neatly stored in his mind. Instead, he focused on getting a grasp of his surroundings, gripping the side of his coffin as he tried to get up.
Muttering to himself, he said, "Alright, alright. I don't even know how I woke up… can someone give me a hand here?"
He quickly realized he'd overestimated his adaptability to this new body; he struggled to sit up but couldn't quite manage it, leaving him a bit embarrassed.
Rebecca, who had been nervously clutching her staff while watching him, seized the opportunity to shine. She immediately bounced over to the stone platform, carefully supporting Gao Wen by the arm and repeating, "Let me help you out of the coffin, let me help you out…"
No matter how he heard it, that phrase sounded odd.
"Seven hundred years, huh…" Gao Wen, with Rebecca's help, finally managed to climb out of the coffin. Looking down at the clothes he wore, he marveled at something that confused Rebecca. "What kind of material is this?"
"I think it's elven-woven Moonglow Cloth…" Rebecca replied uncertainly.
"Really advanced tech."
Rebecca: "Huh?"
Ancestor speaks in mysterious ways. jpg.
With Rebecca's support, Gao Wen finally stepped down from the stone platform and stood steadily on the ground. He felt his control over this body improving rapidly, as though his soul was swiftly installing necessary "drivers." His mind and body were synchronizing at a startling pace.
He released Rebecca's hand, taking a tentative step forward on his own.
In that moment, he felt almost tearful. If there had been a microphone nearby, he could have gone on indefinitely thanking everyone he knew and every television station.
After all these years, fictional transmigrators would have almost reached the level of slaying gods and unifying universes. He, on the other hand, had only just achieved his first human accomplishment: walking upright…
And just after reaching this milestone, he remembered the young girl he had nearly forgotten, the one who was still being surrounded by those four burly men.