Chapter One: A Shocking Transmigration and the Scion’s Humiliation

In the bustling modern city, Chen Yu was like a solitary star set apart from the world, his passion for historical intrigues bordering on madness. He often lost himself among ancient texts, forsaking sleep and food, his eyes glued to historical dramas. Every tale, every power struggle seemed to possess a magic that deeply captivated his soul.

Meticulous and keen in analyzing human nature and unfolding situations, he was nonetheless somewhat dull and taciturn in reality, often seen as an odd recluse who did not fit in. Yet who could have predicted the sudden twist of fate?

A harrowing car accident extinguished his consciousness like a candle flickering in the wind, only to ignite anew within a completely unfamiliar body. Under the sky of the Qianyuan Dynasty, he found himself reborn as Su Jin, the heir of the Duke of the Nation’s residence.

The Duke’s mansion, once glorious as the setting sun’s afterglow, still retained some warmth but was gradually fading under the shadow of the current emperor’s suspicion. Prime Minister Li Zhuo, leading the civil officials and colluding with certain generals, engaged in a silent tug-of-war for power against the Duke’s household.

Su Jin himself was gentle and kind, like a soft spring breeze—tender and harmless. His heart and eyes were filled with the graceful melodies of poetry and the refined essence of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. He had no interest in the open and covert conflicts of court politics, nor had he any passion for martial arts practice, which he had long since abandoned.

To others, he was nothing but a cowardly, incompetent heir without ambition, fit only to waste away his days in a dusty corner of this noble estate.

The secluded courtyard in the back of the Duke’s mansion was Su Jin’s private paradise. Bamboo swayed gently, as if whispering soft songs. Here, he wielded brush and ink with strokes that danced like dragons and serpents, composing the poetry in his heart; the strings of his zither sang softly, conveying his talent and tenderness.

Inside the house, towering piles of books and paintings filled the space, while elegant calligraphy adorned the walls, a window into his serene and scholarly soul untouched by worldly strife.

Upon transmigration, he immediately faced a daunting family challenge—a mounted archery contest.

The training ground blazed like a battlefield under the sun, horses neighing fiercely, young nobles brimming with vigor and yearning for victory in their eyes.

Su Jin’s cousin, Su Han, appeared like a war god descended, his posture agile and upright. Clad in black battle attire that fluttered in the wind, his red belt burned like a flame, radiating confidence and boldness.

His sharp brows and bright eyes exuded an imposing aura. His exquisite riding and archery skills were renowned far and wide, and now, gently stroking his horse’s mane, a smile played on his lips as if declaring the championship already secured.

In stark contrast, Su Jin looked like a lamb lost among wolves.

His steps faltered, his face pale as paper, his figure fragile and helpless as he approached the horse.

The horse seemed to sense his timidity, stamping its hooves restlessly.

Clumsily mounting the horse, Su Jin grasped his bow and arrow, but his hands felt like they bore the weight of a thousand pounds, trembling uncontrollably. Cold sweat poured down his forehead like rain, his heartbeat thundered in his ears, and fear and panic flickered in his eyes.

With all his might, he released an arrow, only to see it falter like a wounded bird, veering weakly off target and falling to the ground.

The training ground erupted into uproarious laughter, the sound piercing his heart like sharp arrows.

Su Han’s lips curled into a disdainful smile as he mocked loudly, “Cousin, with your riding and archery skills, even a child could easily defeat you. You are truly the disgrace of the Duke’s household!”

Su Jin’s face flushed crimson, as if scorched by flames. His heart swelled with humiliation and anger, yet the words stuck like a lump in his throat, leaving him speechless.

Amid the jeers and contempt, he fled the training ground like a lost dog, his lonely figure under the sunlight appearing especially desolate and sorrowful.