Several days later.
Black Castle.
The water in the castle's moat rippled loudly, and from time to time, birds chirped as they landed to drink and hop about by the river, as if they were elves.
Li Chengyi sat by the bedside in his study, holding a crudely-made book he had just received, idly flipping through its pages.
These were books he had just borrowed from several knights nearby his territory, but their content was pitifully scant.
In this world, in this country, the literacy rate among the populace was extremely low, with only the nobility enjoying the privilege of reading and writing.
Many scribes and castle stewards were mostly non-firstborn sons of other nobility.
Without inheritance rights, they had to carve out their own paths, and choosing to become managers and officials for other nobles was, without a doubt, the most suitable direction.
Thump.
Li Chengyi closed the Heart of the Noble he was holding and let out a faint sigh.