Mystery: Starting from the Shadow World

Chapter 1 Resurrection

In the dimly lit room, the blond boy clutched his stomach and curled up repeatedly, his expression contorted with pain. He sniffed the air, and the unpleasant smell forced him to keep his eyes open.

What came into view was the viscous red liquid in his hand. The rusty smell made Jiang Feng freeze on the spot. He didn't even care about his surroundings and tremblingly lifted the blood-stained work clothes on his body.

However, the horrific abdominal wound that was expected did not appear; instead, there was only a little coal dust and specks of silt that would be unbearable for modern people.

The relief that the worst hadn't happened seemed to temporarily wash away the disgust. Jiang Feng breathed a sigh of relief, dragged his weak body to his feet, and looked around.

Where am I?

The walls were covered in stains, the wooden bed was barely tidy, and the cabinet next to it was cluttered with various odds and ends scattered on the floor.

A sharp pain swept through his brain, as if something was about to pierce his skull. Jiang Feng covered his head, letting the unknown memories surge like a tide.

Philip Howard was born in Backlund, the capital of the Kingdom of Loen in the northern continent. Both his parents were members of the Temperance faction of the secret organization "Rose School," and he himself was also a member of Backlund.

Because both his parents were extraordinary beings, he was half extraordinary from a young age. Three years ago, he drank the "Prisoner" potion, but a few days later, the temperance faction was hunted down by the mainstream indulgence faction.

Philip's parents gave their lives to save him, and he did his best to hide in White Whale Street in the East Side of Backlund.

In this place that was almost a slum, Philip wore tattered work clothes and did more than ten hours of dirty and tiring work every day, without doing anything suspicious.

Even so, the libertarians still came after him and easily killed him.

Thinking of this, memories resurfaced.

A lean, muscular man stood in the room, mockingly approaching the begging "him." Long, dagger-like black fingernails sliced ​​across his stomach, blood splattering and flowing, before silence fell.

"Werewolf," Tyrell!

Jiang Feng clenched his fists instinctively.

An invisible anger lingered in his heart. The experience of his predecessor, Philip, made him feel as if he had personally gone through it. The blood flowing from his own body under his feet further fueled this emotion.

But why am I alive?

After reluctantly accepting that he had transmigrated to a strange world that resembled the Victorian era, Jiang Feng had this question in his mind.

The still-wet blood and the excruciating pain from the fatal wound in his memory both proved that the original owner of this body—Philip Howard—was completely dead.

Could it be that he has been resurrected through possession?

Since there are extraordinary beings in this world, then events like possession and resurrection shouldn't be considered superstition. It can be somewhat explained as Jiang Feng leaned against the wall, processing this information to put his mind at ease.

To be fair, compared to this dirty and chaotic place, he suddenly longed to wake up in his small but familiar and satisfying rented room, where the environment could be described as paradise.

But that's just how reality is.

Jiang Feng, no, Philip closed his eyes and sighed. He touched his entire body and found nothing but cold bloodstains. He could only search the room.

The cabinets were roughly cut open in several places, and the neatly arranged piles of clutter were kicked over. That damned "werewolf" seems to have taken away everything of value here.

"As expected, but damn it."

Philip went to the cupboard, took out a black coat that barely smelled bad and a brown shoulder bag, and couldn't wait to change out of his work clothes.

The bag was completely empty, not even a penny.

Of course, even if there really were, for that "werewolf" it would be just a matter of reaching out and taking it. Apart from those middle-class or upper-class people who pursue dignity and being watched by others, probably no one would be unwilling to bend down and pick up a coin.

If this situation is as it is, even if there is no immediate danger, starvation is inevitable.

However, Philip didn't panic much. Instead, he turned the bag over, with the opening facing down, and shook it vigorously, trying to clean the inside, even though the effectiveness of this was questionable.

After all, hiding money is an instinct for many people, and assets that only they know about are the most reassuring and desirable. The boy's gaze swept past the clutter and turned to the wooden bed in the corner, or rather, under the bed.

He walked to the bedside, put his bag down, then held his breath, lay down, buried his head under the bed, and, relying on the images in his memory, reached out his right hand to grope into the shadows.

As Philip felt the hard object under his fingertips, he perked up, grabbed it, and pulled it out. A black square box covered in tiny scratches and dust appeared in his hand.

The weighty texture compelled him to open the box. Even in the dim light, the gold coins, which were still conspicuous, came into view. These were genuine gold pounds from the Kingdom of Rune, totaling twenty-two.

In addition, there were five silver sous and ten copper pennies for small purchases, since it was sometimes inconvenient to only have a hundred-dollar bill on hand.

Philip carried them to the window and examined them in the soft, crimson moonlight.

Hmm, Crimson Moonlight?

In the pitch-black night sky, the crimson moon shone on the earth, bright and serene, yet inexplicably filling Philip with dread.

Even with nearly twenty years of memories as a foundation, he still felt somewhat uneasy when he saw that red moon.

Not a single mistake, not a single poem, not a single post, not a single piece of content, not a single look!

Clang, clang.

The soft clinking of the coins brought him back to his senses. He stared at them, where the image of George III, the current king of the Kingdom of Rune, was printed. His two small mustaches and serious, austere appearance seemed so unfamiliar.

A few seconds later, he shook his head, about to toss the money into his bag, when a question occurred to him: "Wait, isn't it unsafe for the gold coins to be clinking around in there in the middle of the night?"

He didn't have high expectations for the security situation. He took out a few white shirts from the closet, wrapped a few gold coins in each shirt, and then stuffed them into his bag after making sure there wouldn't be any noise.

As for the sour and pennies, they were placed in the two pockets of the coat, respectively.

That solves the problem.

As the gold coins were taken away, a number of banknotes were neatly arranged inside the box. These were given to Philip by his parents; they were only three hundred pounds, but a huge sum for an ordinary person.

Philip grabbed a worn-out bowler hat and put it on his head. He piled up a stack of banknotes and put them in his trouser pocket, which was well protected by his satchel and coat. Then he opened the door, ready to greet the cool and fresh air as if taking a walk on a blue planet at night, to ease his depressed mood.

However, times have changed.

The moment he pushed open the door, an even stronger smell than inside the room rushed in, causing him to instinctively open his eyes wide and quickly close the door, bending down to cover his mouth.

It was the middle of the night, and Philip was still a man who should be dead, so he dared not make any noise to attract attention, but the smell was really there.

The lingering stench of sweat, the pungent smell of cheap coal, the stench of urine and rotten water from the public restrooms made him somewhat fond of this room he had initially disliked.

Indeed, good and bad are revealed through comparison.

Hold on, hold on, just a little while.

Philip clenched his fist, clutching the copper coin he used to play with to soothe his mind. He took a deep breath, then stepped out again, quickly and restrainedly closing the door behind him.

(End of this chapter)