Night fell, and one candle after another flickered to life, dispelling the fog-like darkness.
Goethe knelt on the ground, dipping his fingers into his younger brother's fresh blood to draw the ritual markings.
"Hader, you will forgive me, won't you?"
"This is for revenge!"
"For Grandfather, for Father and Mother, for Aunt and Uncle, and for Bruce and the others!"
"You will forgive me, my dear brother. Hahaha."
The firelight flickered in the young man's dark pupils. Tears streamed down his face, but the corners of his lips curled into a crazed smile.
More candles were lit in succession.
The young man began chanting the incantation.
Suddenly, pain surged from his chest.
Thump!
Thump-thump!
Thump-thump-thump!
His heart pounded violently, as if it were about to explode.
But he gritted his teeth and endured it!
He had to endure it!
This was the 'secret ritual' he had spent everything to obtain from his so-called friend—a ritual that could summon a powerful 'Spirit of Vengeance' that would obey his command.
With this Spirit of Vengeance, he could finally track down the hidden murderer who had been slaughtering his family, take revenge for his loved ones, and restore the once-prosperous Wayne family.
As long as he had the Spirit of Vengeance, everything would be within his grasp!
Determined, the young man steeled his resolve.
Even as his body felt like it was being torn apart, even as his flesh began to fester and rot, he remained unwavering.
He ignored the maggots crawling from his wounds, focusing solely on chanting the incantation, syllable by syllable.
Then, through his blurred vision, he saw the ritual markings on the ground begin to glow a sinister red.
His resolve only strengthened.
And when he saw a vague figure taking form within the ritual, he immediately raised his bloodied hand to press against it. The Spirit of Vengeance was powerful but also dangerous. He had to complete the blood pact the moment it was summoned, while it was still at its weakest, to ensure his control over it.
He tried to move as fast as he could, but his speed was too slow
After all, for someone whose body had rotted to the point where bone was visible and whose organs were being devoured by maggots, being able to move at all was already beyond reason.
Meanwhile, standing within the glowing ritual circle, Zhao Wumian was still dazed by the strange light and illusion before him. Then, suddenly, he saw a bloody, flesh-rotting monster lunge at him like a zombie.
His instincts took over. Without thinking, he swung the large bottle of Wusu beer in his hand and smashed it down.
Smash!
The bottle, still half full, shattered on impact.
Beer and glass shards flew everywhere.
The young man, already at his limit, collapsed instantly, silent and motionless.
Zhao Wumian stared at the grotesque figure sprawled at his feet, completely dumbfounded.
"I was just eating skewers and drinking beer... What the hell is happening right now?"
But what stunned Zhao Wumian even more was what happened next.
The moment the 'monster' hit the ground, its body turned to ash just like a cigarette burning too far, crumbling away with a careless flick of the hand.
Whoosh!
Before Zhao Wumian could react, the glow from the ritual circle flickered once more, and the swirling ashes suddenly surged toward him, wrapping around his body like a gust of wind.
Then, scenes flashed before his eyes, playing like a movie.
Goethe, his carefree childhood, his loving parents and grandfather.
And...
His "study sessions" with the family's beautiful private tutor.
His "practical lessons" at the garden club.
A life rich and colorful, full of envy-inducing moments.
But then, everything changed.
In less than a month, his grandfather suddenly fell ill and died. His parents disappeared soon after. Just as Goethe was drowning in grief, all three of his uncles, along with their wives and children, vanished in a single night.
His only aunt disappeared on her way to the police station.
Then, the once-wealthy family was suddenly drowning in massive debt.
With his loved ones dead or missing and his finances in ruins, the once carefree Goethe was left completely lost and helpless.
Then, his "friend" extended a helping hand, offering salvation at the cost of performing a ritual.
Zhao Wumian watched as Goethe bashed his younger brother's skull with a silver candlestick and couldn't help but sneer.
"Willing to sacrifice others without hesitation to regain his former life... A ruthless man, but an utter fool for choosing to sacrifice the only person he could truly trust."
"Then again, only fools like him fail to see that their 'friend' had ulterior motives."
"No, that's not right."
"He probably suspected it. But he chose to believe what he wanted to believe."
"Tch."
"Everyone clings to wishful thinking."
"Everyone believes they are the lucky exception."
"Even when death is staring them in the face, they refuse to accept reality."
Zhao Wumian's eyes flashed with disdain as he formed his judgment of Goethe.
Then, he shook his head. The flood of memories was reaching its conclusion, but his rational mind told him he needed to focus on something far more pressing—his current predicament.
His past experiences had taught him well surviving in an unfamiliar world was never easy.
But the sheer volume of memories pouring into his mind was making his head pound, making it nearly impossible to think clearly. He could only raise a hand to massage his temples in an attempt to ease the pressure.
At that moment, as the glow of the ritual faded and candlelight once again illuminated the room, Zhao Wumian caught sight of something in the corner of his vision.
A mirror.
His hands froze mid-motion.
He stared, wide-eyed, at the reflection in the mirror.
A shirtless young man with long black hair, a pale yet undeniably handsome face, and sharp, piercing eyes stared back at him.
It wasn't him.
It was Goethe.
And when he opened his mouth, the boy in the mirror did the same.
"This..."
Zhao Wumian was stunned.
The words that left his lips were no longer his native language, but the language of this world.
Thanks to Goethe's memories, he was certain of it.
And before he could even process what had happened, strange lines of text appeared before his eyes characters he had never seen before, nor found in Goethe's memories.
Then, the text transformed into something he recognized all too well, his native language.
[...]
[Language conversion complete.]
[Conversion successful!]
[We are grateful that you have ended the Mad King's bloodline. We will grant you our blessing!]
[The blessing shall manifest in the way you understand best!]
...
The text paused briefly.
Then, more lines emerged—
[Character: Goethe (Zhao Wumian)]
[Age: 19 (31)]
[Race: Human (Pseudo-Spirit of Vengeance)]
[Gender: Male]
[Status: Healthy]
[Title: Mad King's Bloodline (Pseudo), Kinslayer (Pseudo)]
[Attributes: Mind: 0, Skill: 1.2, Body: 1.4]
[Abilities: Unarmed Combat (Beginner), Dagger Combat (Beginner), Firearms (Basic), First Aid (Basic)]
[Item: Bloody Honor x1]
(Note: Clearly, you are not just cannon fodder, but you are far from truly strong!)
[Unarmed Combat (Beginner): Having mastered the true fundamentals and experienced multiple real battles, your physique and technique have further improved. Against amateur fighters, you can now handle yourself with ease. Effect: Body +0.2 (Base 0.1, Beginner 0.1), Skill +0.1 (Beginner 0.1)]
[Melee Weapons - Dagger (Beginner): You have used a dagger in numerous battles, gaining rich experience. You can even perform dazzling tricks with it. Effect: Skill +0.1 (Beginner 0.1)]
[Firearms - Handgun (Basic): You are now familiar with handguns and have a high accuracy rate when shooting stationary targets within 10 meters.]
[First Aid (Basic): You understand some emergency medical knowledge and have applied it in real situations.]
...
[Bloody Honor (Shattered Beer Bottle): This is a remnant of a once-chilled beer bottle. The production date is reliable, so the beer it once contained was refreshing. But that was before. Now, it is merely a weapon stained with the blood of the Mad King's bloodline. To the hundreds of witches, it is the ultimate solace. Over the past hundred years, they have blessed every weapon that has partaken in this vengeance. As someone who has earned the witches' gratitude, you can utilize these blessings more effectively.
Effect: When using this blessing, you can quickly learn a skill you are already familiar with but not proficient enough to solidify in your skill list, or you can enhance an existing skill level.]
(Note 1: When you touch a weapon that has granted Bloody Honor, you will automatically receive Bloody Honor.)
(Note 2: The weapon that granted Bloody Honor will not change after losing the honor.)
...
Zhao Wumian's attention was drawn to the text before him.
"A way I understand?"
"A game-like attribute panel."
"'Mad King's Bloodline'? 'Kinslayer'?"
"And... Bloody Honor!"
Frowning deeply, Zhao Wumian felt an unsettling sensation from the sudden appearance of the [Attribute Panel].
Because these were his skills—his, not Goethe's!
The feeling of being 'laid bare' like this was extremely uncomfortable.
He hated it.
However, he quickly adjusted, forcing himself to adapt—
In an unfamiliar and dangerous environment, any additional assistance was valuable. Even if it carried potential risks, it was still an advantage.
After all, he had no other choice.
The [Attribute Panel] was already there, how was he supposed to remove it?
He had no idea.
All he could do was proceed with caution.
"A terrible situation."
Zhao Wumian sighed inwardly.
Just then—
Knock, knock, knock!
"Goethe, how's it going?"
"Is the ritual over?"
Along with the knocks, a probing voice came from outside.
It was Goethe's so-called 'friend.'
This was also the apartment that 'friend' had rented for Goethe.
Goethe, hunted by debt collectors, had long since become homeless.
Of course, that wasn't the point.
The point was that this so-called friend harbored ill intentions!
And more importantly—
He was now wearing Goethe's face. No, he had already become identical to Goethe.
Standing here, if that 'friend' walked in, he would undoubtedly take him for Goethe.
As for explaining?
That thought never even crossed Zhao Wumian's mind.
If the roles were reversed, he wouldn't believe such a story either.
And judging by the other party's behavior, they were here to kill 'him.'
"Damn it!"
"This is the worst possible scenario in an unfamiliar environment!"
Surviving in an unknown setting was difficult, but persistence could yield success. However, if that setting contained malicious intent, the odds of survival would plummet.
But that didn't mean Zhao Wumian would give up.
He scanned the room for anything that could help him.
Then, he dashed toward the window.
Pulling the curtains aside, he pushed the window open.
The street below was silent under the night sky, dotted with flickering lights. Zhao Wumian took a quick glance before rushing back to the door.
Judging by the hinges, the door opened inward.
Zhao Wumian positioned himself to the side, when the person outside entered, the door would block their line of sight to him.
Just as he settled into place, the sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the room.
A moment later, a cautious figure stepped inside. However, upon seeing the open window and the billowing curtains swaying in the night breeze, they immediately rushed over.
Hands braced on the frame, the figure leaned out, scanning the empty streets below, clearly trying to locate Goethe.
The empty street only made them more furious.
"Damn it! That bastard actually ran—"
Thunk!
A shattered beer bottle stabbed into his lower back, cutting his curse short.
"Ah! Goethe, you—!"
The person screamed in pain, twisting around to see Zhao Wumian. Their shriek became even louder, filled with disbelief.
But Zhao Wumian gave no reply.
As he plunged the broken bottle into the attacker's lower back with his right hand, his left grabbed the waistband of their pants—
Then, with a sharp lift—
The figure tumbled forward.
"Aaaaahhh!"
Thud!
A scream cut off abruptly as 'Goethe's friend' hit the ground head first with a dull thud, falling silent.
Standing by the window, Zhao Wumian gazed down at the corpse on the street below, expressionless.
Then, he waved lightly.
"Goodnight."