The young master gnashed his teeth, his face red with humiliation as he glared around the courtyard. The servants and retainers quickly averted their eyes, pretending to be busy. They knew better than to laugh openly at the young master’s misfortune, but the stifled snickers and muffled chuckles were enough to make his blood boil.


    Ren sighed and gave a superficial apology, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “My apologies, young master. I didn’t mean to offend.”


    But the young master wasn’t having it. His pride had been wounded, and he needed someone to blame. “You think this is funny, you little brat?” he snarled, lunging at Ren with a wild swing.


    This time, the young master’s fist connected, striking Ren squarely in the shoulder. The force of the blow sent Ren stumbling back, but he quickly steadied himself. His ruby-red eyes flashed with anger, but he bit back the retort on the tip of his tongue. Patience, he reminded himself. You’re a servant. For now.


    Just as the young master raised his hand for another strike, a loud splat echoed through the courtyard. A flying beast, seemingly out of nowhere, had chosen that exact moment to relieve itself—directly onto the young master’s head.


    “F***!” Ren exclaimed, unable to suppress his shock.


    The courtyard erupted into laughter. Even the most stoic servants couldn’t hold back their amusement. The young master stood frozen, his face a mask of disbelief and rage. Slowly, he wiped the mess from his hair, his hands trembling with fury.


    “This isn’t over,” he hissed, glaring at Ren with venom in his eyes. If looks could kill, Ren would have been dead ten times over. Without another word, the young master stormed off, his robes trailing behind him like a banner of defeat.


    Ren breathed a sigh of relief, though he knew this wouldn’t be the end of it. The young master wasn’t the type to let things go, and Ren’s bad luck seemed to have a way of making enemies for him. Still, for now, he was safe.


    As the laughter died down and the courtyard returned to its usual rhythm, Ren made his way toward the clan’s library. If there was one thing he had learned from his past life, it was that knowledge was power. And in this world, power was everything.


    The Rayner clan’s library was a modest building, but it was well-stocked with scrolls and manuals on alchemy, cultivation, and the history of Eryndal. The library was divided into two floors: the upper floor was reserved for the clan’s bloodline, while the first floor was open to retainers and servants.


    Ren stepped inside, his tattered clothing drawing disapproving glances from the scholars and retainers browsing the shelves. He ignored them, his focus entirely on the task at hand. He needed to find something—anything—that could help him cultivate. He might be a servant now, but he had no intention of staying one.


    He picked up a basic cultivation manual and began to read. The text described the process of gathering Qi, circulating it through the body, and refining it to strengthen one’s meridians. It seemed straightforward enough, but when Ren tried to follow the instructions, nothing happened.


    He frowned and tried again, focusing harder this time. Still, nothing. It was as if his body refused to cooperate. Frustration bubbled up inside him, and he slammed the manual shut.


    “What the hell is wrong with me?” he muttered under his breath.


    He grabbed another manual, then another, but the result was the same. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t cultivate. It was as if the very laws of cultivation rejected him.


    Ren cursed loudly, drawing a few annoyed glances from the other library patrons. He didn’t care. He was too busy seething with frustration. If he couldn’t cultivate, how was he supposed to survive in this world? How was he supposed to protect himself from people like the young master?


    Just as he was about to give up, the library doors swung open with a dramatic flourish. A girl stepped inside, her presence immediately commanding attention. She looked to be about sixteen, with long, flowing hair and an air of elegance that set her apart from everyone else in the room. Her beauty was striking, but there was a coldness in her eyes that made Ren uneasy.


    Behind her stood the young master, his face still twisted with anger. He pointed at Ren and said, “Sister, that’s the one! That’s the servant who humiliated me!”


    The girl’s gaze shifted to Ren, and her expression turned icy. “So, you’re the one who dares to mess with my little brother,” she said, her voice calm but laced with menace.


    Ren’s heart sank. This was bad. Very bad.