Lu Yi opened his eyes to a sky torn apart, chaotic and formless.

All five senses rushed back. Strength surged deep within, slowly restoring his mobility. After three deep breaths, he sat up—slowly, deliberately.

What had just happened? Still unclear.

But the moment he rose, the scene before his eyes confirmed exactly where he was.

A cemetery.

Made sense. He’d just undergone a flesh-and-blood rebirth.

Which meant Noah Purwin had been nothing but a skeleton before this.

Assuming one hadn’t wronged anyone in life, wasn’t holding grudges, and hadn’t been terribly unlucky… skeletons usually ended up here.

Strength kept flowing back.

Lu Yi looked down. His hands were powerful, palms rough and calloused. His chest broader than before, pectorals sharply defined. Thighs not massive, but certainly no longer slender or soft.

With this build—even if not bodybuilder-tier—nobody would dare call him a scrawny weakling.

He clenched his fists, then slowly uncurled them. Repeated it. Finally certain: he fully commanded this body.

These sandbag-sized fists stirred childhood memories.

If Dad had used hands like these to discipline him back then… way worse than a belt.

And if Dad had gripped the belt *with* these hands? Lu Yi’s childhood would’ve been a copper-top spinning show—with him as the top.

He’d have loved to keep exploring this new body…

But voices from two nearby girls drifted over, snapping him from his thoughts.

…

“You *swore* the intel was rock-solid! Absolutely foolproof!”

“It *is* correct! This is the cemetery!”

Shirley held her ground—unusually unflinching under Anna’s pressure.

She feared ghosts, not people.

After years as guildmates, they knew each other inside out. Shirley stood firm: “It’s Miss Monica’s intel. It can’t be wrong!”

“Monica…”

At the name, Anna froze as if struck in the chest.

She knew that name’s weight.

In the guild, anyone could be questioned—except Miss Monica.

Her intel had *always* been pinpoint accurate. This time should be no different.

After a silent beat, Anna’s gaze drifted to Shirley, faintly knowing. “Maybe Miss Monica’s intel was right… and your delivery was too.”

Shirley nodded vigorously. “I didn’t miss a single word!”

Anna fixed her with a reproachful look. “But did you ask *one* question?”

“What question?”

“When Miss Monica said ‘third row’… top-down or bottom-up?”

Shirley: “…”

The delicate-featured, adorably cute girl blinked. Processed. Then twisted her face into a mischievous grin.

“Ehe~”

She spun and bolted—no glance back.

Anna blinked, snapped to, and swung her ritual grimoire, chasing furiously.

Soon, the quiet cemetery echoed with their bickering.

“Do you have *any* idea how long I prepped this ritual?! Two years! *Two!* Scrimping, saving—ruined because you forgot to ask the order!”

“It’s not my fault! I relayed Miss Monica’s words *exactly*! *She* wasn’t clear!”

“I don’t care! You stinky bird—I’ll pluck every feather off you today!”

“Go bother *Miss Monica* then! Pluck *her* feathers! Not my problem! Chase me again—I’ll take flight!”

“Like you can *actually* fly! You fake bird! Think I just met you yesterday?”

…

Lu Yi realized this language wasn’t from his original world. Yet, thanks to inherited memories, he understood every word effortlessly.

Connecting the first phrase he’d heard with the current scene, the conclusion was obvious.

These girls had messed up.

The person they meant to resurrect wasn’t Noah Purwin—but someone else.

Seriously?

He’d heard of brides ending up with the wrong groom… but *digging up the wrong grave and resurrecting the wrong person*?

Staying silent now was a terrible idea.

He didn’t know who these girls were, their true goal, or what they’d do to him next.

He’d just clawed his way out of the coffin—no way his story ended *again* so soon.

Strange calm settled over him despite life-or-death thoughts. The night breeze brushed his skin—not cold, but soothing.

Perhaps returning from death brought this serenity. Having faced death firsthand, little could stir his heart anymore.

Unless he died *again*.

To avoid that, Lu Yi rose silently, absorbed more of Noah Purwin’s memories, and spoke his first words in this world:

“Ladies… I believe we need to talk.”

…

Anna and Shirley skidded to a halt mid-chase.

They exchanged a glance, instantly forgetting their quarrel, huddling to whisper.

“What do we do, Anna? He’s calling us…”

“He looks alive—wait, the ritual *did* resurrect him! So he *is* alive!”

“We dug up the *wrong* person! Hey—did your Ritual Academy ever cover this?!”

“Honestly? Never.” Anna spread her hands. “Even if they had—it wouldn’t help. I cheated through every exam. Don’t even remember the questions.”

Shirley shot her a sidelong glance, muttering, “That’s why your rituals always fail.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! This one *worked*!”

“Digging up the wrong grave counts as ‘worked’?”

Anna stomped her foot, frustration boiling. “And whose fault is *that*?!”

Shirley shrank back, covered her head, and crouched. Pouting with wounded eyes: “It’s done. So… what now?”

Anna scratched her head, drew a small knife from her waist, and ventured tentatively:

“How about… kill him, rebury him, pretend nothing happened?”

Lu Yi: “?”

I heard every single word you said, okay?!