1 Reincarnation

"My head hurts..." Fang Ming groaned. His whole body felt like someone had hammered nails into him, especially into the head. With eyes shut, his body bounced with the rhythm of the moving ambulance he believed he's in.

Wait, an ambulance?

Fang Ming remembered being inside his research lab when the nuclear reactor exploded. The blazing fires had engulfed him in seconds. His chance of surviving the explosion was zero. How can he still be alive?

Sounds of hooves galloped and horses neighing.

Horses?

Fang Ming opened his eyes. What entered his vision was a wooden ceiling. Tilting his head to the side, he sat not on a medical stretcher but wood flooring. Even the walls were wooden.

Why is he riding inside a horse-drawn carriage and not in an ambulance?

Panicking, he raised his hands out in front of him, expecting to find either burned flesh or bandages. White youthful-looking hands stared back him. These aren't his hands. Whose body is this?

Fang Ming peered down at his unfamiliar body. Brown trousers, shirt stained with sweat, dirt, and...blood? He stood up, wincing as he eyed his surrounding. Youths with colored hair huddled together in the corner, their heads hanging low. None of them bothered to spare him a glance.

"Where—"

Unfamiliar memories flashed in his mind before he could ask. He clutched his forehead. The new wave of information had intensified the pain in his head. Unbearable! He fell back on the floor. His vision turned black before he could utter a cry.

"Leylin?" an unknown voice cried out from the darkness. The carriage had stopped moving. A pair of rough, calloused hands shook his body. "Wake up!"

Fang Ming opened his eyes once again. Standing over him was a young boy with western features, not Chinese or Asian. He looked to be about 14 years of age. He had golden colored hair and deep blue eyes. An American? Fang Ming glanced around, the carriage was empty; the huddled youths were gone.

"Are you okay, Leylin?" the golden-haired boy asked. He did not spoke English or Chinese but Fang Ming was able to understand his unknown language. Somehow. Who is he and why is he calling him Leylin?

Another unfamiliar memory appeared in his head. Many scenes of the golden-haired youth and a brown-haired youth playing, chatting together. Fang Ming understood. George. The golden-haired boy name is George.

"I'm okay!" Fang Ming snapped, waving his concern off. George's eyebrows raised.

This George is getting suspicious of him. He needs to act like Leylin in the memories.

"My dearest George," Fang Ming grinned, putting on his best Leylin impression. "Of course I'm okay. I'm just upset that you haven't woken me up sooner. You let me sleep on the cold floor for so long. What if I've gotten a cold?" he staggered up on his feet. George's face broke into a wide smile.

His acting worked.

"You had me worried there, Leylin!" George laughed, smacking Fang Ming on the back. Strong. He winced from the pain. "Man, they really did a number on you. For a moment, I thought that you have died. I had to wait until everyone left to check on you."

"The others didn't wake me?"

"Maybe they saw you were having a nice dream and didn't want to disturb your beauty sleep."

Fang Ming raised an eyebrow. That can't be it. That doesn't explain why he was alone and wounded in the carriage. Especially the blood on his shirt. "Tell me the real truth. You're not avoiding me, are you George?"

George raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning. "Alright, you got me. Since your incident with Bessita and her flower guardians, everyone been treating you like you have the plague. If they see me helping you, they'll start to ignore me! Especially the girls!"

Fang Ming frowned. Bessita? Flower guardians? Who? He wanted to probe for more but held himself back to avoid arousing this George suspicion.

George looked around the carriage, scratching his chin. "Listen, I know how you hate to be told what to do but trying to take advantage of her with that physique of yours? My advice, loosen her up with alcohol first before you make your move, that's what I would do."

Loosen her up? "I understand. Thank you, George!" Fang Ming stretched his bruised body, wincing. His body hurts. "You wouldn't happen to have any medicine for bruises on you, dear friend?"

George grinned. "I knew you would ask." He reached into the back of his pocket, taking out a small glass bottle with a cork top.

Fang Ming peered at the small glass bottle containing white liquid. "This is?"

"This here is my family's secret product," George said, handing him the bottle. "Usually our family's knight would use these, it's effective against injuries like yours. All you have to do is rub the ointment on the bruises and it'll make the pain go away."

"Thank you!" Fang Ming put on his best smile.

George grinned and turned. He opened the carriage door ajar. "Good. No one is around," he said, peeking through the gap. "I'll head out first. Apply the ointment and hurry over to the lines if you don't want to miss dinner." He opened the carriage door wider, letting in a gust of wind. He glanced over his shoulder. "Don't tell anyone about me helping you, okay?" he hopped out and closed the door behind, leaving Fang Ming alone in the carriage.

Fang Ming breathed out and collapsed on the floor, relieved that it was over. Sweats dripped down from his forehead. What in the world is going on? Where is he? This can't be a dream or a virtual reality game, it feels too real. This defies all scientific explanations.

He shut his eyes to think. The pain in his head started to swell. Leylin memories, from the time he was born to when he rode the carriage flashed in his head.

It looks like he...the body he reincarnated into is Leylin Farlier, the firstborn son of a minor baron of Chernobyl Island. Large stone castles. Knights riding armored warhorses. Magicians performing magic. Demonic-looking beasts prowling the countryside. These scenes appeared in an instant.

Magic?! He reincarnated to a high fantasy magic world?!

Fang Ming couldn't help but smile. He laughed. He reincarnated in another world after all! He read many reincarnations themed web novels since he was a child. Never did he expect the cliche trope to be true, that it would happen to him of all people. How he had daydreamed living in these kinds of magical worlds.

By closing his eyes and focusing, he could recall Leylin's memories. He wanted to know the incident with the Bessita girl, the reason for his injuries.

He closed his eyes and focused, ignoring the increasing pain in his head.

A scene of Leylin chatting alone with a silver-haired girl wearing a red dress in a secluded part of a forest. Leylin tried to lean in for a kiss but she turned her face away and rebuffed him. Not happy, he'd pinned her to the ground. The silver-haired girl screamed but Leylin clasped a hand over her mouth. Leylin began tearing her dress but a large hand grabbed his shoulder. A group of young boys in noble attires pulled him away from her, pushing him to the ground. They began to assault Leylin with many kicks and punches. He tried getting up but a boy with large muscles and crimson hair used a nearby rock to smash the back of his head. The blow knocked him unconscious.

The scene ended.

This Leylin tried to sexually assault her?

Fang Ming facepalmed. He understood now how his body ended up in this state, why the youths abandoned him in the carriage, why George had said he didn't want to be seen with him.

Pathetic.

He sighed. Not a good way to start his reincarnation story. Still, he was grateful to be alive, even if he's in the body of a pariah. His crime wasn't reported to the people in charge of escorting the carriages. Strange.

Still not knowing why or where he was heading to, he closed his eyes again and focused. The reason this Leylin rode in a carriage was that he and the others had to head towards a small town by the coast. There, he and the others would pick a magic academy of their choosing and would then board a ship to the place called the Central Continent.

Fang Ming continued to focus.

Another scene appeared. He was now in a dark bedroom. Leylin sat on the foot of the bed with his father, Baron John, seated next to him. He held a letter and an unopened black envelope. "Two envelopes arrived this morning from your grandfather in the Central Continent," he said, passing Leylin the black envelope. "If any of my children were to have the gift of magic, they are to receive the black envelope. They would use this to enter any magic academy free of charge." Leylin attempted to rip the black envelope open. "Don't bother trying to force it open. Only a Magus like your grandfather can open this envelope." He gave Leylin a hard stare. "You will become a Magus and make your grandfather proud!"

The scene ended.

Fang Ming frowned. An envelope? He dug through his trouser's pockets. Not there. He checked his shirt's pocket. Nothing as well. Where's the envelope? He closed his eyes and replay back more of Leylin's memories.

A brief scene of Leylin putting the black envelope inside a leather bag before boarding a small ship. A leather bag?

Fang Ming's eyes scanned around. In the far corner of the carriage, many bags in different shape, color, and sizes piled together. Crawling over, he searched through the pile until he dug out a well-made leather bag like the one he had seen. The leather bag had the word, Farlier, embroidered in gold on it that he somehow could read. Inside his bag; spare clothes, a pouch containing various colored coins, and papers. Old ticket stubs, love poems, and love confession letters from secret admirers. Useless. He continued to rummage through his bag until he found what he was looking for; the black envelope.

Seeing nothing on the envelope's front, Fang Ming flipped it over. A stamped red wax bearing the symbol of an unknown bird. He tried peeling but the wax seal would not peel off. An envelope sealed by magic? Interesting. What's inside the envelope that allowed him a free admission to any magic academy?

Fang Ming put the envelope back in the bag and noticed something shiny. There was a small hand mirror made of brass or copper. Curious about how he looked, Fang Ming held the mirror out to see. A 14-year-old boy with blue eyes and light brown stared back. He smirked. Good looking, for a western boy.

Putting the mirror aside, Fang Ming stood up and removed his bloody shirt. He peered down at his naked upper body and grimaced, he had dark, purple bruises all over. He rubbed the ointment on the bruises, including the wound on the back of his head. The ointment left a cooling sensation. The pain vanished in an instant.

How interesting. He'll have to ask George if he has more.

After applying the ointment, Fang Ming changed into a new shirt. He walked over and opened the carriage door, a slight gentle breeze blew through. He hopped off, his shoes landing on the grass. He looked at the distant darkening horizon. Endless green field. The giant red sun was setting behind a small grassy hill, darkening everything. Fang Ming breath in and exhaled, the air smelled good; none like the pollution or impurities of Earth.

Fang Ming strolled through the camp, eyeing his surrounding. Large carriages like the one he was in have formed several circles, large fire pits burned in the middle. Many of the youths from within were sleeping, playing cards, chatting, or eating. The nostalgic scene reminded him of his time in high school. He would sit alone in the canteen during lunch, observing his classmates.

Fang Ming walked further through the camp until he came upon a large tented area with long lines. The aroma of cooked meat permeated the air, his stomach growled. Food, he needs to eat. He stood in one of the lines with arms crossed. Many youths wore noble attire, some in commoner clothing. They scowled at him, some whispered. Fang Ming stared straight ahead, ignoring their gazes. He continued to wait, the line getting shorter and shorter until it was almost his turn.

"Hurry up!" A hoarse voice cried out, startling a red-haired boy in front of Fang Ming. "We don't have all night, boy!"

"My apology, Lord Angelo!" the red-haired boy stammered. Receiving a bowl and a small cup, he bowed and sprinted off.

Ignoring the ever louder growling in his stomach, Fang Ming stepped forward. Standing over a large boiling pot of broth, Lord Angelo was a middle-aged man in black robes. He had a rather large and nasty scar that almost seems to split his face in half.

Ugly. Fang Ming grimaced. He held his hand out when a robotic male voice spoke. Loud.

[Warning. Host is close to an unknown source of danger, recommend to move at least 10 meters away.]