Field forced a brilliant smile, awaiting the judgment of his father, Count Cort.
His original name was Qin Hao, hailing from Hua Country on Planet Blue. He had only crossed over into this world a mere three days ago.
Good news: He was a descendant of a Count.
Bad news: He was utterly unwelcome.
"Field, you have come of age now. Like a mature lion, it is time for you to forge your own path." The middle-aged man in resplendent clothing used stirring words, but the old Count spoke feebly, his spirits low, rendering the speech almost laughable.
Everyone present watched with mocking eyes.
The Count paused, his attention wandering. When he refocused, he had completely forgotten where he was in his speech.
The original owner of this body had been an extraordinarily kind person. He had yielded the potion that awakened combat aura to his younger brother. He had given up his place at the magic academy for his younger sister. He had even treated every servant with kindness. Logically, such a good person should have been respected. Unfortunately, he was nobility. From a noble perspective, the original owner was nothing but a weak, incompetent waste.
The voluptuous beauty beside the old Count was Field's stepmother.
The plump and alluring young woman sat gracefully in the secondary lord's seat. She elegantly lifted her teacup for a sip, then set it down. Her phoenix eyes, which seemed to pull threads, flicked towards Field. The sunlight cast deep ochre shadows, accentuating her high nose bridge. Lifting her delicate chin almost haughtily, she practically addressed Field with her chin: "The vast territory of Nightfall in the Northern Frontier shall be your barony. It is ample space for you to demonstrate your prowess."
"So, even after trying his utmost to please everyone, exile was still unavoidable," Field thought.
A slight dizziness washed over him. The original owner, bullied to death by the crowd, had left this mess for him to inherit. Field bit his lip hard, barely steadying his mind.
Then, Field snorted coldly. The original owner had truly been foolish, thinking kindness alone could ensure survival among nobles.
The stepmother's eyes swept downwards carelessly, looking down her nose at him. "Do you have objections?"
"Hu~"
Forcing out the pent-up resentment within him, Field reined in his smile and responded in an even tone, "As you wish, my father."
His cheap father had already been squeezed dry by his stepmother; he obeyed his wife in all matters.
"Pfft~ Fool!"
Someone among the relatives snickered, accompanied by a biting, scornful insult.
The Northern Frontier, inhabited by both humans and orcs, was a land steeped in bloodshed, violence, and savagery. Ten years ago, the Holy Griffin Empire had used the corrosive miasma to slaughter three hundred thousand orc soldiers. Now, it was likely overrun by filthy goblins and trolls.
Of course, the current Northern Frontier was even worse.
The three hundred thousand orc soldiers, along with all humans and animals in the north, had been transformed into corrupted beings. They lurked year-round within the death miasma, turning it into a synonym for hell on earth. The royal family had organized three campaigns to reclaim the lost lands, all ending in total annihilation.
The various territories of the Northern Frontier existed only in name, mere words on a map. Not even a dog would go there.
Most of the time, no one even mentioned it.
It was a cursed land, perhaps worse. Even runaway serfs or criminals wouldn't choose to flee towards Nightfall territory.
It's fine. I still have my cheat.
Field silently comforted himself. With a thought, a transparent map materialized before him, marked with a slowly moving green dot.
"Go and prepare," the Count said wearily, his face deathly pale.
Beside him, the stepmother helped the Count stand. Her nearly transparent silk nightgown seemed to lend a spark of motivation to the Count's withered body.
Field pursed his lips. His elder brother and sisters had all received fertile fiefdoms. This old man had uttered a few meaningless words and thought he could just shoo him away? Field wouldn't accept that. He immediately stated his demand: "Father, I need your support. Establishing Nightfall territory will not be easy."
The stepmother's soft flesh pressed against the Count's arm before she narrowed her eyes seductively.
"Greed is not a noble virtue, Field. You have already received more than enough," the Count stated without hesitation.
The surrounding family members also cast undisguised looks of contempt.
"Going out with black hair and black eyes is an embarrassment to the Ross family!"
"Just a bastard!"
Black hair and black eyes were no longer symbols of ancient nobility, not after the massive invasions from the eastern nomads and the fall of the ancient kingdoms around the Inner Sea.
Field felt a surge of anger, his eyes flashing with fury.
The original owner's birth was entirely the Count's own doing! Why should he be the one to suffer?
His mother had been a castle maid. She came from a land far to the east, sold as a rare slave to the castle by nomadic merchants. After a night of drunken revelry, the Count had fathered the original owner.
His lowly status, lack of maternal family backing, and the partial physical traits inherited from his mother were another major reason for Field's ostracism and disdain.
"Five hundred gold coins. Additionally, you may take your personal servants. I treat all my children equally," the Count said, then was hastily helped away to his bedroom by the stepmother.
Field was utterly frustrated. Five hundred gold coins sounded like a lot, but investing it into a territory would be like stirring the ocean with a toothpick – just a splash with no real effect.
Still, it was better than nothing.
"Hey! Field, Nightfall territory is a wonderful place! Sunlight barely touches that perpetually dark, foul-smelling land. It suits your demonic eyes perfectly," Field's half-brother chirped with exaggerated cheerfulness as he sidled up. "My fief isn't nearly as good, alas. Poor Fuland City, famous only for its beer and goats."
Field felt rage ignite within him, so intense it felt like his heart was sizzling. Having a rotten fief was one thing; as a transmigrator, he could find a way. But directly mocking his appearance made Field wish he could dig up the kid's ancestors eighteen generations back.
Besides, the reason this little bastard possessed combat aura was entirely due to Field's past kindness! Back then, the brother's talent was abysmal. He hid in a corner crying his eyes out while others mocked him. It was Field who had extended a helping hand.
"Get lost!" Field snapped, refusing to give him a pleasant look.
"Remember that flaxen-haired girl?" The brother ignored Field's expression, a sinister smile spreading across his face as he leaned close to Field's ear.
Field narrowed his eyes. An image of a smiling face surfaced in his mind – the girl the original owner had liked. Later, her naked corpse was found in an alley behind a tavern. Heartbroken and furious, the original owner fell gravely ill and died, allowing Field to cross over into this body.
The brother licked his lips. "It was me. Her struggles... were incredibly thrilling."
Field's pupils constricted violently. A feeling named shock seized his heart.
This brother, also just come of age, had committed such a beastly act. Though, as a transmigrator, the girl was a stranger to him, the casual disregard for human life filled Field with unprecedented disgust.