"My head..."
This was Fang Ming's first conscious thought. A searing pain radiated from what felt like a cracked skull. His body jostled against wooden planks - he was in a carriage. Through slitted eyes, he glimpsed fair-haired youths with sea-blue eyes, all ignoring his crumpled form on the floorboards.
As he struggled upright, memories not his own flooded his mind - a dying world consumed by negative energy reactors, then darkness. When he awoke again to someone shaking him, two realities merged: he was now Leylin Farrell, scion of a minor noble house en route to some... wizard academy?
"Wake up, Leylin! You'll miss supper!" The booming voice belonged to George, a golden-maned earl's son whose corded muscles strained against his tunic. Leylin's borrowed memories revealed more: this world combined medieval hierarchy with arcane powers, where noble titles translated directly to military might.
His fingers instinctively brushed the hidden family heirloom - an ancient ring that secured his apprenticeship. The previous Leylin had been beaten to death over some princess... no, a minor kingdom's daughter named Besta. This body's original occupant had been a walking libido with terrible life choices.
As George fled after tossing him a healing salve, Leylin assessed his situation through a scientist's lens. His analytical mind cataloged everything until -
Beep! Danger proximity alert!
A familiar mechanical voice shocked him. His old AI assistant had somehow fused with his soul during transmigration. Body scan results flashed mentally: Strength 0.4, Agility 0.5 - pathetically below this world's average. Then came the real shock - their carriage attendant showed superhuman stats (Strength 3.3!) without being an actual wizard.
That night, as campfires dotted the caravan circle, his solitude broke. Besta herself appeared - platinum hair cascading over crimson bodice, eyes like blood rubies. She offered a healing vial with trembling hands, her cleavage deliberately displayed. Leylin maintained cold courtesy, but his new body's hormones raged against clinical detachment.