Chapter 4: Nobility
“When practicing drawing, you must keep your surroundings quiet, free from environmental distractions, and devote yourself fully to the task.” Bruce spoke with a tinge of emotion, clearly recalling his own past, and sighed deeply, “When I first started, I lived with my teacher in a valley, training for more than half a month. Every day I practiced dozens to hundreds of times, until my wrists were swollen…”
Charles sensed peculiar information bubbling up in his mind, along with a surge of warmth flowing through his hands and arms, and he instantly felt as if his hands had become many times more dexterous.
He turned around, opened his mouth, and asked with a strange expression, “Mr. Bruce, do you know what the fastest record is for someone to get started?”
“There was once a naturally gifted warrior, someone with extraordinary control over their body, who managed to master the basics in just three days. However, lacking true talent is an irreparable flaw. He was never able to awaken his spirit and thus could not become a true Spirit Master! Don’t be impatient for quick results—this foundation is what your future advancement will rely on…” There was a hint of envy in Bruce’s tone, making Charles’ expression even more peculiar. Lowering his head shyly, he said, “Teacher Bruce, I just remembered—I’m about to be grounded by my father for some time, and will have to study in the manor for perhaps ten days or half a month without being able to come out. Could you possibly lend me your notes or something, so I can learn a bit more?”
“Teacher?”
Unexpectedly, when Bruce heard this form of address, he was slightly taken aback, his face softening considerably. He pulled a small brown notebook out from a drawer and handed it to Charles. “Take this. These are the notes I took while practicing cartography. They should be of great help to you at your current stage.”
Charles took the stitched-together notebook with great reverence, carefully tucking it into the inner pocket of his coat.
After giving a polite bow, he left the basement without ever mentioning the mysterious changes that had just occurred within him.
After Charles departed, Bruce sat quietly, watching him go, unmoving for a long time…
In the carriage, Charles flexed his wrists and discovered that his hands were now astonishingly nimble, capable of performing all sorts of incredible movements.
“White Spirit!”
He silently recited the name in his heart, and the familiar interface immediately appeared before his eyes. This name belonged to his strongest game totem, the White Tiger Beast, which he had also used as the name for his totem modulator interface.
To his surprise, the interface now displayed a slight change from before—an additional attribute had appeared.
“Mental Strength: 1.8, Physical Strength: 0.6, Constitution: 0.5, Agility: 0.7, Evolution Points: 1000%.”
Evolution Points?
He rubbed his temples, vaguely recalling that this term existed on the modulator. This function allowed one to bypass the need for gems, pearls, and other precious evolution materials—a simple tap and the totem evolved and leveled up directly.
It was likely that achieving the beginner level in totem drawing had consumed these points!
When he focused his attention on the skill bar at the bottom—specifically the “Totem Drawing” level—suddenly a message surfaced in his mind.
“Evolution conditions: Constitution 0.6, Agility 0.9.”
So, it even displayed the prerequisites for leveling up. Charles was at a loss for words; this modulator was truly overpowered—it deserved to be called a cheat!
Bang!
Just then, the carriage came to an abrupt halt. Charles, unprepared, was thrown against the side of the carriage. Fortunately, the wall was lined with velvet; otherwise, he would have ended up with a nasty bump.
“Young master, are you all right?” The coachman, Hans, had heard the thud and anxiously threw open the carriage curtain.
Seeing Charles had fallen, Hans’ face turned ashen with fear and he stammered, “Young master, are you all right? Are you hurt?”
“What happened?” Charles rubbed his forehead, feeling a burning pain. He didn’t need a mirror to know a large patch had turned red. In a foul mood, he casually asked the question.
Hans became even more terrified and immediately fell to his knees. “Young master, I didn’t mean it—it was that brat who suddenly dashed out…”
They’d hit someone?!
Charles was startled. He quickly leaned out, his gaze passing over the tall reddish-brown horse to see two children sitting on the road ahead. “I’m fine! Did we hit them? Are they alright? Go check on them, quickly!”
“Young master, they’re just commoners. The fact that you were injured is already a grave offense—they must be severely punished! I’ll notify the family’s enforcement team at once, so that these commoners learn who truly rules Goldenshine Town!” Hans declared matter-of-factly, his face full of scorn as he spoke of the others.
Charles paused, suddenly realizing that this was not the egalitarian land he once knew. He was a noble, the sole heir of Goldenshine Town’s master.
On this land, he need not pay heed to anyone’s feelings.
Any commoner struck by his carriage would not only receive no compensation, but would instead be harshly punished!
Such was the power of the nobility!
No wonder, in ancient times, so many scions of the aristocracy grew arrogant and reckless—absolute power naturally breeds a wanton disregard for others… These thoughts flashed through his mind, but the temperament formed in his homeland prevailed, making it impossible for him to go along with such actions.
He jumped down from the carriage, steadied himself, and strode towards the children, now able to see them clearly.
The pair were clearly a brother and sister. The sister was perhaps fourteen or fifteen, her face covered in red pimples and her short hair a reddish-brown. The younger brother was no more than ten. His cheeks were flushed and streaked with tears as he cowered fearfully in his sister’s arms.
When the girl saw Charles approaching, she hurriedly released her brother, dropping to her knees and kowtowing repeatedly. “Young master, my brother didn’t mean it. Please spare him! If you must punish someone, punish me instead!”
Bang, bang, bang!
Hearing the sound of her small head striking the ground, Charles felt deeply uncomfortable. In his previous life, he had envied the luxurious existence of the ancient aristocrats, but now, faced with the reality, he found himself truly loathing it.
He reached out, wanting to help them up, but the terror in the children’s eyes—as if they were facing a man-eating monster—made it impossible for him to act.
“Well, well, Charles, have you taken a fancy to this little girl?” A flippant voice sounded behind him. “Tsk, tsk, you’ve got a peculiar taste!”
“Go on, get out of here,” Charles said, fully aware of the chasm separating nobles and commoners, forced to bury the sympathy in his heart—anything else would only bring further harm to them.
The siblings scrambled to their feet and fled as if for their lives. Only then did Charles turn and laugh, cursing, “You’re the one with an eye for little kids!”
The newcomer was his childhood friend, someone who could speak to him so freely because he too was a noble—a member of the Stone family whose lands neighbored Goldenshine Town.
“Charles, that fellow is hosting a small gathering tonight, inviting the nearby nobility to MacLennan Manor. I came to let you know. Let’s all go together later,” his friend said in a lowered voice, unconcerned by Charles’s retort.
“Um, Field, I’ll have to pass this time,” Charles shook his head.
“What? Didn’t your father want you to get close to them? Why pass up such a good opportunity?” The tall, thin Field looked at him in surprise.
“My father wants me to get into the Imperial Royal Academy. I really have to put in some effort these days. If I can’t even pass the entrance exam, I’ll be finished.” Charles shrugged in imitation of his memories, feigning exasperation and helplessness.
“The Royal Academy… I’m so envious. If you get in, you’ll definitely be better off than the rest of us, just drifting through life.” Field’s tone was full of longing, a trace of yearning flickering in his eyes.
“Your father must have paid a hefty price to secure you a place. You’d better work hard. Not to discourage you, but I’ve heard the Royal Academy’s entrance exams are brutal—many don’t make it through!”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Charles sighed with feigned despair. After a few more words, Field climbed into his carriage and departed.
Charles also returned to his carriage, feeling the bulge in his clothes and brimming with excitement.
He would go home and test things out—if it was truly as he suspected…