"But that's the money for our wedding preparation!"
"Isn't everyone in the village like family? Don't worry, they'll pay it back."
"Jeanne, just be honest with me, are you refusing to marry because Uncle Pique and the others are persuading you?"
"What do you think of Uncle Pique and the others? After Father died, it was Grandpa Andok and Uncle Pique who have been taking care of me selflessly. They're getting old, I just want to take care of them more, is there anything wrong with that?"
"Alright, then tell me, until when do you plan to take care of them?"
"You're a good person, Brother Horn, we're already like family, why must we get married?"
In the low farmhouse, under the dim light of the oil lamp, the hesitant girl and the young man curled up in pain.
Scenes flashed before his eyes, and Horn felt a sudden clarity in his heart. So, you're a simp too?
However, unlike the original owner, Horn no longer had women on his mind when he died.
This heart-wrenching scene could at most elicit from him a sympathetic "respect, bless, lock it down" sentiment.
The girl was undeniably beautiful, but he wasn't about to repeat the mistakes of his past life. Who talks about love after transmigrating?
In his previous life, Horn had wasted most of his years on a so-called goddess who neither accepted nor rejected him.
At that time, he was a top-tier student from a small town.
Despite being admitted to a prestigious university from the countryside, he ended up without a graduation certificate because of her, delivering food in his thirties, eventually killed by a truck.
Having lived a second life, would he let the same thing happen again?
Absolutely not!
This time, Horn would trust no one and love no one, living only for himself.
He was determined to climb step by step to the highest peak, to become a leader among men, and never let anyone bully him again!
Exhaling deeply, Horn tried to dispel those inexplicable emotions and chaotic thoughts, calming his mind to systematically recall and piece together the life trajectory of this body's original owner.
Horn Gallar, a Thousand River Valley person from Leia Kingdom, just turned eighteen this year, an accounting apprentice.
His mother died giving birth to him, and his father was stabbed to death by runaway soldiers three years ago...
Hmm, a classic start with both parents' buff.
As for the world he was in, its civilization roughly matched the Late Middle Ages on Earth.
The King sat on the black thorn throne, knights raised their hooves and lances in castles, the Pope wielded a golden jade scepter, and priests held up greasy indulgence tickets, selling them to the farmers bent over in the fields.
Everything it should have, it had, but it also had things it shouldn't.
Ogres, vampires, witches, dwarfs, giant dragons...
The only consolation was that there weren't monstrous characters like the four peddlers.
Besides the different species, extraordinary powers such as the knight's breathing technique and priest's blessings also brought Horn infinite surprises.
But before that, Horn had to first consider another issue, which was how to reattach his head.
Generally speaking, the process for transmigrators to seize a body is original owner's death—transmigrator's takeover—resurrection.
He suspected the main reason why the first two steps were completed but not the resurrection was because of head-body separation.
Resulting in a cycle of reviving and dying, like Schrödinger's head.
It was a glitch.
Horn's only hope was that after everything finished, some kind-hearted person would piece his body together and not just toss him into the flood.
Silently praying, Horn decided to focus his attention on the battle between the girl and the knight.
After all, the original owner had been beheaded by the knight for pushing away the girl, and he still wanted to know the outcome.
After all, there's nothing better to do.
Focusing his gaze, Horn realized that after Jeanne's last fall, the battle was already coming to an end.
Stepping on the soft mud, against the crisp clashing of arm and shoulder armor, Knight Barnett approached Jeanne.
Leaning on a pitchfork with one hand, Jeanne leaned forward, struggling to stand, exposing most of her back and slender neck to the knight's longsword.
But Barnett didn't treat Jeanne the same way he treated Horn.
He walked up and gave a heavy kick to Jeanne's chin, causing her to fall backward and land in the mud again.
But this time, the Master Knight didn't give her a chance to get up.
A heavy iron boot pressed down on her chest, pushing her back deep into the mire.
"For mistreating the believers of Miseria like this, you will surely face divine retribution."
Struggling, Jeanne frantically pounded the shin guards on the knight's lower legs with her fists.
The shin guards clanged, but didn't harm the knight in the slightest.
"Divine retribution? Do you sinners deserve the favor of God?" Leaning down with disdain, Barnett stretched his neck and pressed the sword tip under Jeanne's chin, forcing her to raise her head to face him, "Unclean ones, pfft!"
Despite Jeanne's intention to dodge, the foul-smelling dark green phlegm still landed on her face, slowly trickling down her temple.
"You will have your retribution!" Her hands desperately pressed against Barnett's boot, Jeanne's eyes were furious and wide-open. She turned her face and shouted to the villagers, "Earlier, Miseria truly conveyed the divine prophecy to me in a dream. She said, only by uniting can we overcome the difficulties. Everyone, family, believe me, unite!"
Not a single villager dared to raise their head in response to Jeanne.
They hung their heads, clinging together like a group of trembling chickens under the farmer's control.
They didn't dare make any large movements, fearing they might be seen as trying to help the little girl crushed under the tall Knight's feet.
"How... how... everyone, family, unite—"
"Hahahahaha." Holding his belly, the Master Knight bent over in laughter at Jeanne's naivety, "Who is your family? Them? Hey, family, quickly step forward."
The villagers were eager to shrink their heads into their chests, some even sneered and bowed repeatedly, distancing themselves from Jeanne.
Jeanne opened her mouth, unable to utter a single word.
"With Miseria above, Barnett, the Master..."
At this moment, someone indeed stood up from among the villagers.
He was the only one wearing a woolen Priest's robe but mixed among the Public Register Farmers.
This hefty Priest was called François Joseph Kosse, but having been starved these days, he lost quite a bit of weight; his formerly large facial skin was drooping down, hanging on his face.
He bent his back, ingratiatingly rubbing his swollen fingers, stepping forward two or three steps:
"With Miseria above, God bless you, Barnett, the Master, permit the sinner Joseph to speak candidly, Old Kosse thinks that Little Jeanne must be driven mad by hunger, after all, you see, her father was an Armed Farmer, you know..."
"What do I know? Her father dying in battle for me is what he should do, it's his duty and honor!" Turning his head, the Master Knight pointed his longsword, his eyes narrowed into a thin slit like a serpent's tongue aimed at Kosse, "Kosse, do you think a pig-slaughtering butcher who bought a roaming priest can criticize me?"
"No no no, Barnett, the Master, how could I dare mean that, I was just saying..."
"Then what do you mean? She dares to falsely interpret Miseria's prophecy, shouldn't she be hanged? Not killing her is already considering her father's face." The Master Knight arrogantly raised his chin, casting a sidelong glance at Priest Kosse, "Why, are you dissatisfied?"
"I, I..." Under the swaying sword tip, the priest named Kosse sweated profusely from his forehead, "The Three Saints bless you, your judgment is indeed just beyond measure, she truly deserves to die."
"I really feel sorry for my father!" Jeanne's body twisted frantically as her roar nearly broke her voice, "No one will follow a lord like you, spineless, who only kisses the aristocrats' boots and bullies his own subjects, just wait, someday, you'll die pierced by ten thousand swords from your own subjects!"
As if struck at a sore spot, the Master Knight's previously cheerful face froze.
The Knight's face turned instantly grim, he growled through gritted teeth, "Alright alright, good, little whore, good, I tell you, I've changed my mind. I originally just wanted to taste you in the house, but now, I will strip you naked in front of everyone! Do you!"
"You deserve the Fire Prison, Barnett, you deserve the Fire Prison!"
"Hope your tongue remains that nimble later!"
Removing his iron gauntlet, the furious Knight fiercely reached for Jeanne's chest.
Unfortunately, he grabbed empty air, while Jeanne bit hard onto the thick callus on his sword.
"Little beast!" In pain, the Knight's actions became even more violent.
The rain poured harder and harder, as if obscuring all the daylight.
Everything was draped in a gloomy filter, lightning flashed, casting black silhouettes on the grass.
The Master Knight's armor was angular, he lowered his head, his expression ferocious.
Under the iron boots, the young girl resisted with her hands against his soles, struggling desperately.
Mud splattered, cries erupted within the crowd, villagers knelt on the ground, grasping cross-shaped pendants, uncontrollably praying.
With increasingly feeble struggles, that hand was drawing closer and closer to Jeanne's body.
Too young, too naive, Horn couldn't help but lament; she'd truly taken them as family.
But all things considered, even from a stranger's perspective, should he just stand idly by and watch?
Witness a tragedy unfold yet do nothing?
Taking a deep breath, Horn made his final decision, he decisively—closed his eyes.
He swore, this time, he'd live only for himself, disregarding others.
"Hiss—" As his eyelids closed, a sharp pain almost made Horn cry out.
He could feel the foreign object under his eyelids, what was it, flying sand?
In such rainy weather, how could there be flying sand?
Horn blinked to squeeze the foreign object out, but the instant he opened his eyes, he immediately felt the view seemed slightly different from before closing them.
This headless corpse seemed to have grown a bit larger...
No, not right, it's not the corpse that's larger; it's that he's closer to that headless corpse.
Horn widened his eyes, paying no mind to the pain in his eyeballs.
This isn't sand, Horn quickly realized; it's his eyes meeting pebbles as his head moved.
In other words—
His head was actually moving!