Lu Yi figured slipping away right then was his best move.
But this body seemed stuck in the “revival” phase. Sprinting—requiring sharp coordination—was still beyond him.
Thankfully.
Anna and Shirley exchanged a few hushed words.
Finally, the red-haired girl who’d pushed for killing and burying the evidence sheathed the dagger at her waist.
She’d apparently abandoned the idea of erasing the truth.
Seeing this, Lu Yi let out a quiet sigh of relief.
So that gaming trope—casting your ultimate on a minion only to devour it right after—wouldn’t happen here. At least, not this time.
The two women seemed decided. Side by side, they walked toward him.
As they closed in, Anna yanked off Shirley’s outer robe and tossed it at Lu Yi. The message was clear.
He was still naked, fully exposed. Speaking like this was hardly proper.
Lu Yi murmured thanks, silently pulled on the robe—slightly too small—and confirmed their intent inwardly.
If they meant to kill him, why bother with this unnecessary gesture?
While he pondered, bold Anna stepped closer.
Only then did he see: the woman before him was an exceptionally rare beauty.
Anna’s crimson hair flowed smoothly to her waist. Her toned thighs peeked beneath the robe, clad in black high boots over a pale yellow undershirt that hinted at the curves hidden within.
Shirley was even more intriguing. Her silvery-white hair shimmered like moonlight. Delicate features held youthful innocence, giving her a girlish charm Anna lacked. Along the sides of her smooth arms ran a pure white groove stretching from wrist to shoulder. Identical lines traced the outer thighs.
Lu Yi studied them a few seconds. Were those… retracted feathers?
They looked nothing like Heretic Deviants or necromancers.
Judging by appearance, they seemed like ordinary, bickering sisters who’d accidentally wandered here.
Anna crossed her arms, locked eyes with him, and asked, “What’s your name?”
Lu Yi paused.
To live in this world, he had to shed his old name and identity.
He’d never forget he was Lu Yi—but from now on, he’d be Noah.
Calmly, he answered, “Noah Purwin.”
“Really? Wait… Purwin?!”
Anna’s careless expression vanished. Her eyes widened in shock.
She recognized the name. She sized him up—testing for lies, checking if sane thought remained.
Noah endured her gaze silently. Being scrutinized by a beautiful girl wasn’t unpleasant.
He’d inherited Noah’s memories and body perfectly. Unless he confessed or they used mental coercion, his secret was safe.
After a silence, Anna nibbled her nails thoughtfully, then lifted her gem-brown eyes. “Are you a descendant of the Pulwen Clan?”
“Clan?” Noah blinked, surprised.
In his time, the Purwins were no clan—just a modestly wealthy local family, far from nobility. No wonder he’d been buried in such a shabby, remote spot.
Anna frowned, digging through history. “Do you know Gail Purwin?”
Noah shook his head.
“Helps Purwin?”
Another shake.
“Philip?”
A third refusal.
Anna’s disbelief deepened. After a long pause, she whispered, “What about Berial Purwin?”
Memories surfaced: a small boy with soot-smudged face and dark hair, clutching a loaf of bread, shouting to explore the jungle with friends whenever afternoon sun broke through.
Noah nodded. “He’s my son.”
“Son?!” Anna nearly jumped.
Shirley froze like she’d seen a ghost, staring unblinkingly at Noah as if he were a mythical creature from a textbook.
Noah didn’t grasp why—but their lack of hostility meant his identity was safe.
Anna composed herself, eyes wide. “Really? You’re his father?”
“Absolutely,” Noah said firmly. “Berial Purwin is my son. I’ve just crawled from the grave, my mind’s foggy—but this? Undeniable.”
“Wait, wait!” Anna waved her hands, rubbed her brow. “What was Berial’s wife’s name?”
*My daughter-in-law?*
Noah answered flatly: “I don’t know.”
“…Huh?” A vein twitched at Anna’s temple. “You’re his *father*—how?!”
“Simple,” Noah said evenly. “I was buried when he was eleven. Unless your era lets eleven-year-olds marry?”
Anna fell silent. She couldn’t argue.
But she wasn’t one to quit. After a thousand failed rituals, she hadn’t burned that old tome for nothing.
She snapped her fingers. “Berial’s birthmark—where was it? What shape?”
*Another freebie.*
“Inner right thigh. Black. Fan-shaped.”
Anna sucked in a sharp breath. *Impossible.* Only the secret appendix of *The Biography of Berial*’s limited edition held this. Fewer than a hundred people knew.
She pressed on. “Origin of his name?”
“Ayn ancient tongue—‘golden stone.’ His mother’s choice.”
“Correct… First pet?”
“A Bambor hound. He adored that pup.”
Anna fired question after question: first illness, first school, childhood quirks.
Noah answered calmly. His memories were like Baidu—search, and answers surfaced.
He even revealed secrets Anna didn’t know: bedwetting at eight, crying over a snail at nine, a rejected love confession at ten, a dramatic heartbreak poem nearly sparking a “suicide attempt.”
Anna listened, stunned. *If Berial’s spirit heard this, would he burst from his grave begging his dad to stop?*
“So… you believe me?” Noah asked.
If not, he had plenty more—especially his second son’s chuunibyou-era black history.
“I believe you,” Anna nodded vigorously. Details this precise left no doubt.
She’d aimed to unearth Berial… and dug up his father instead.
*A generational jackpot?*
Remembering Berial Purwin’s legacy, Anna’s posture shifted. Arms uncrossed, hands folded neatly before her, radiating noble grace.
Relieved, Noah seized the moment. “You asked me many questions. May I ask one?”
“Of course,” Anna replied, voice newly respectful.
She lifted her robe’s hem, rose onto tiptoes, and gave a graceful bow. “Ask anything. I’ll answer all I know.”
She even used honorifics.
Noah narrowed his eyes. “My son… Berial Purwin. You know him?”
“Yes, Mr. Noah.” Anna raised her head, reverence in her tone. “Berial Purwin is the legendary guildmaster we sought—the greatest in history… The world’s first and finest Mediator.”
“Oh.” Noah’s expression cleared.
No wonder their attitude flipped.
If he’d unearthed Li Bai’s father, he’d react the same.
But one thing nagged him.
Maintaining the dignified air of a historical figure’s father, he asked calmly, “What’s a Mediator?”
Anna: “….”
Shirley: “….”
Their faces froze—horrified, as if they’d just learned Berial was a cross-dressing legend.
