As he descended the ancestral mountain and took the road back to the family estate, any servants and vassals who crossed Ethan’s path gave him a wide berth. Even those who only spotted him from a distance made sure to steer clear. It wasn’t just because of Ethan’s notorious reputation. “Why is there a beggar on the estate…?” “Shh, quiet! That’s the young master.” “That… that beggar is him?” “Hush your mouth, girl!” No matter how softly they spoke, their whispers reached Ethan’s preternaturally sharp ears. But he paid them no mind. Right now, Ethan’s focus was entirely on one thing. The time is almost here. His memory was hazy on the exact date, which was why he’d returned a little early, but he knew that within the week, an incident would occur—an incident vital for his next objective. The event that would secure him the funds he needed was not far off. The Force hummed within him, a powerful current responding readily to his will. His transformed body felt coiled with strength, and confidence surged through him. With his enhanced abilities, his next goal was well within reach. “Gods! Have you been living in a ditch for the past three months?! What in the world were you doing up on that mountain?!” “I told you. I was training.” “Training? What kind of training involves rolling around in filth? Oh, my nose.” Simon grumbled, vigorously splashing water and working a scrubbing brush over Ethan’s back. He’d shown open reluctance to even approach the grimy young master, but the sheer amount of blackish-grey filth that sluiced off Ethan’s body left him speechless. “So,” Ethan began awkwardly, “did anything happen while I was gone?” “Not much. Without you here, my lord, the estate has been so quiet… Ahaha. What I mean is… it was boring. Yes, that’s it. Boring.” An uncomfortable silence followed. The eldest son of the house had fled a sparring match against his younger brother. Loathing the comparison, he had abandoned everything and locked himself away in seclusion. Cowardice had no place in the heir to a noble house of knights. In the three months he was gone, vicious rumors had festered throughout the estate. “That’s ridiculous. I have a good idea who’s behind this, though.” “Didn’t you say you don’t care about rumors? Right? You shouldn’t let it get to you.” “I don’t. It’s fine. This will all be sorted out as soon as I see my father.” Ethan was certain his father, a high-ranking knight, would immediately recognize his awakening. Once he did, such pathetic rumors would vanish like mist in the morning sun. His complacency, however, would not survive the day. He was on his way to report the end of his seclusion and meet his father when he was met with an unexpected obstacle before the main residence. “According to the family rules, even direct blood relatives cannot meet the head of the house without a prior appointment.” Simon, his expression a mask of disbelief, mumbled from behind him, “That rule… it’s hundreds of years old…” What was this nonsense? “I met him without an appointment just three months ago.” “Then the guard on duty that day was derelict in his duties, my lord.” Ethan fixed his gaze on the middle-aged knight barring his path. This never happened in my past life… He knew that deviating from the path of his past would alter the future, but he’d never imagined his standing could fall this low. Just then, Ethan’s heightened senses caught the conversation of soldiers concealed within the residence. “Is that knight insane? He’s still the young master.” “Who knows. He’s always been reckless. Besides, he’s retiring soon. You put your money on that side, didn’t you?” “You really think he’ll just turn back? Or will he throw a fit?” “He’s a coward who flinched from a fourteen-year-old. Of course he’ll turn back.” “Well, whatever happens, it’s the knight’s head on the block…” “We were on break. We didn’t see a thing.” In that moment, their words brought the depths of his disgrace into sharp focus. “The soldiers are currently on break, my lord, so there is no one to deliver a message. Please come back another time.” The knight’s brazen smile was the final straw. Ethan felt his temper fray. Hah, you see this guy? By nature, Ethan was anything but meek. But years as a mercenary and a rebel had forged a patience in him that the hot-headed youth he once was could never have imagined. He had no desire to indulge such a petty provocation. But something else bothered him. Beyond the knight, inside the residence, numerous family members were watching. Some stared openly, others pretended to look away, but their inaction was a blatant, if subtle, endorsement. Nearly all of them were ignoring the knight’s transgression. Ethan knew he had acted in ways that invited scorn, and he knew his reputation was in the gutter. But feeling it so directly was another matter entirely. Has it really gotten this bad? This could be a problem… His plan—to reveal his transformation to his father, earn his acknowledgement, and slowly rebuild his reputation from there—evaporated in an instant. No need to delay, then. Though his mind was cold, the youthful body he now inhabited still housed a fiery heart, and it stoked a calculated anger in his eyes. “What is your name, knight?” The knight’s smile widened, now openly disrespectful. “It is Dominic, my lord.” “Right, Dominic. You have humiliated me using an outdated family rule.” Ethan’s voice was devoid of emotion. “I, Ethan McLaen, demand a duel with Knight Dominic to redeem this unjust humiliation.” The knight’s sneer froze on his face. Ethan pulled a sparring glove from his coat and slapped it against Dominic’s chestplate. It fell to the ground with a soft thud. The argument that began at the entrance of the estate had led them to the knights’ training grounds. Knights who had been in the middle of their drills were now an impromptu audience, their sparring paused as they watched with keen interest. Of course, no one expected Ethan to win. They were merely curious to see how well the young master could hold up against a proper knight—or how pathetically he would be beaten. Not a single knight present had missed his public humiliation at the hands of Caleb. I wonder if I was really that weak, or if Caleb is just a genius. If Ethan won this duel, what sort of rumors would spread then? The thought brought a smirk to his lips before the match even began. The knight, Dominic, would make a worthy sacrifice. The thought stoked the embers of Ethan’s fighting spirit into a blaze. “…Take care of yourself, young master.” Though he was seething, Dominic’s tone was carefully polite. He may have started the confrontation, but he didn’t have the nerve to curse a direct heir in front of so many of his peers. “Let the official duel between Ethan McLaen and Knight Dominic begin!” a knight who had been roped into officiating announced, looking deeply unhappy. “For safety, weapons will be limited to wooden swords! Both of you, do your best!” There was little else he could do but confiscate their real blades. Even so, a knight who could wield Force could easily kill with a wooden sword, and a palpable anxiety hung in the air. But with Ethan’s firm resolve, there was no turning back. Whatever happens, it's not my fault, the referee thought, his face twisting in a worried grimace. Still, please go easy on him, Sir Dominic. Contrary to the referee’s hopes, Dominic charged first. Faint red wisps of energy bled from his body as he sprinted forward—a sign of his immature control, but intimidating enough to the uninitiated. The wooden sword he brandished split into three distinct blurs, targeting Ethan’s head, chest, and legs simultaneously. End it in one blow! Dominic could not forget the humiliation. The sneers of his critics, the ambition of his juniors… he had already resigned himself to retirement, stuck at the rank of 53rd in the knight’s order at the age of forty. He was simply coasting, handling minor responsibilities. But the young master’s challenge had ignited the last dregs of his knightly pride. I’m not washed up! He may have lacked talent, but Dominic had honed a unique technique through years of experience. He would use it now to overwhelm the brat and teach the naive young lord his place. Confident in his signature move, the Threefold Assault, Dominic unleashed his attack, certain of victory as the young master before him seemed frozen to the spot. A sharp impact, a spike of agony in his wrist, and a strangled scream was torn from Dominic’s throat. His wooden sword, struck from his hand, clattered across the training ground. For a moment, the yard fell silent again. “What’s the point of a feint that doesn’t even move a wrist?” Ethan’s mocking voice cut through the stillness. “Is this really the best a so-called knight can do?” The silence shattered into a cacophony of astonished gasps. “Did you see that?” “I didn’t see a thing!” While the servants and vassals buzzed with shock, it was the knights who were truly stunned. For years, Ethan McLaen had been nothing more than an embarrassment to them—the direct heir who, for all his lineage, possessed no skill to match it, only a penchant for trouble and violence. To see that ruffian display such impossible speed was a revelation. The knights, normally a stoic bunch, exchanged agitated glances, their shock far greater than that of the servants. Amid the murmuring, Ethan’s voice drew everyone’s attention. “Referee, I feel we should give Sir Dominic another chance. What do you say?” The startled referee, yanked from his stupor, looked at Dominic with eyes still wide with disbelief. Dominic, his face a mask of crimson rage and wretched humiliation, gave a sharp, jerky nod.

Chapter 4: Return of the Beggar Prince