The next morning, dawn's first light filtered through the mist over Rivergate.
Simon Harper, as James Ward, stood outside the Clayton family's grand gate, holding the reins of Ember, a gentle mare. His rough servant's tunic itched against his skin, but he kept his expression neutral, waiting for Eliza Clayton.
A finely adorned carriage, its wood carved with intricate patterns, stood nearby, the coachman lounging against it, eyes half-closed. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of dew and polished leather.
"She's taking forever," Simon muttered, shaking his head, impatience simmering. He'd been waiting since sunrise, but Eliza had yet to appear.
As a Clayton stable boy, he maintained a calm facade, just as James's memories dictated, standing patiently with Ember's reins in hand.
After what felt like an eternity, Eliza emerged, flanked by several maids. Her silk dress rustled, catching the morning light as she moved with the confidence of youth.
Simon's gaze shifted, and James's memories surfaced. Eliza Clayton, the sixteen-year-old daughter of Patriarch Henry Clayton, was spirited and rebellious, often clashing with her father. Yet Henry's affection shielded her from harsh consequences.
Eliza, assisted by her maids, climbed into the carriage. Her voice rang out from within: "To Clearview Temple outside the city."
Simon said nothing, watching the carriage lurch forward. He mounted Ember, guiding her to follow closely. Having absorbed James's memories, riding was second nature, and Ember, familiar with James, responded smoothly to his touch.
"Once we reach Clearview Temple, I'll slip away," Simon planned, his eyes on the road ahead. The temple, perched on a distant hill, was his gateway to freedom.
This world had its own faiths—temples and shrines not unlike the Buddhism and Taoism of his past life, though their deities differed. Simon had little interest in their theology; it was too distant from his goal of escape and power.
Before long, the procession reached Clearview Temple, its stone arches framed by ancient oaks. Eliza stepped from the carriage, spoke briefly to her maids, and entered the temple with her personal attendant.
The others remained outside, waiting for her return.
Simon chatted idly with the maids and coachman, his eyes scanning the surroundings. Behind the temple, a dense forest sprawled, its shadowed paths leading to rugged mountains.
"I'll make an excuse soon and escape through those woods," he decided. His last simulation had taught him to survive in such wilderness for years. The Claytons, unlikely to waste resources on a mere servant, wouldn't pursue him far.
After a while, Simon clutched his stomach, groaning. "Ugh, something I ate isn't sitting right. I'll be back."
Without waiting for a response, he hurried toward the forest, feigning discomfort. The maids and coachman shook their heads, unbothered. To them, James was a loyal hereditary servant, incapable of betrayal.
In the forest, Simon's expression hardened, his steps swift and sure. The tangled branches and thorns posed no challenge; his eight years in the last simulation's mountains had honed his skills. Poisonous insects and beasts were no threat either—he knew how to handle them.
"They might suspect something by now," he thought, a faint smile curling his lips.
Even if they did, it was too late. Deep in the forest behind Clearview Temple, he was beyond their reach. The temple's distance from Rivergate ensured the Claytons couldn't organize a search quickly.
"I'll gather people, build a force, and expand my influence to earn more simulation points," he planned, moving effortlessly through the undergrowth.
After some time, Simon reached the forest's depths, far from the temple. He paused, noticing a narrow path winding through the trees.
"This must be a trail used by the temple's monks," he observed, noting its worn dirt and cleared branches. "It'll make travel easier."
His clothes were tattered, torn by thorns despite his skill. He pressed forward along the path, unconcerned by the chance of meeting monks. James's memories confirmed Clearview Temple wasn't a martial school; its monks knew no combat arts.
"They'd be no match for me," Simon thought, confident in his Blood Surge Technique.
Still, he quickened his pace. "This path could help the Claytons track me faster."
A faint sound reached his ears—a woman's voice, familiar, coming from the path's end.
"Who's that?" Simon wondered, his curiosity piqued. He moved cautiously toward the sound.
At the path's end, hidden behind trees, Simon peered into a clearing. Eliza Clayton leaned against a young monk, her expression soft and affectionate.
"The Clayton heiress with a monk?" Simon shook his head, amused. "If her father knew…"
He had no interest in their affair and turned to leave.
"Who's there?" the monk called, his sharp eyes locking onto Simon's position. His hearing was keen, catching Simon's slight movement.
"Damn it, if anyone learns of my affair with Eliza, I'm dead," the monk muttered, releasing her and charging toward Simon.
Eliza froze, panic flashing across her face. If her scandal reached her father, even his affection might not spare her.
Simon, about to slip away, stopped as the monk approached. His eyes grew cold. "Trying to kill me? You're the one courting death."
He assessed the monk—no martial training, unsteady steps. Simon's body, though untrained in this simulation, could unleash the Blood Surge Technique, giving him an edge.
Simon stepped from behind the tree, facing the monk with a steely gaze.
"It's James!" Eliza gasped, recognizing him. Confusion and shock filled her eyes. "Why is he here?"
"Daniel, stop!" she shouted. "He's our servant, don't kill him!"
The monk, Daniel, hesitated, his eyes flickering. But then his expression hardened.
"If this servant spreads word of us, I'm finished," Daniel thought, ignoring Eliza's plea.
Eliza bit her lip, worry creasing her brow. "James doesn't know martial arts. Daniel learned my family's Single Strike Fist days ago, but has he mastered it?"
Daniel reached Simon, fists raised, launching a clumsy attack.
Simon's eyes narrowed. "He's got some technique, but it's unpolished."
Activating the Blood Surge Technique, Simon felt his blood surge, muscles swelling with a thirty percent boost in strength. His body, honed by stable work, was already strong.
Simon swung his arm, the motion cutting the air with a sharp whistle. Daniel tried to block, but Simon's force overwhelmed him, knocking his arm aside. Simon's fist slammed into Daniel's chest.
Crack!
Ribs snapped, piercing vital organs. Daniel collapsed, blood trickling from his nose and mouth, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"How…?" he gasped, life fading.
Eliza's pupils shrank, her heart trembling as she stared at Simon. "How could a servant do this?"
Simon wiped the blood from his fist, his expression cold. He turned to Eliza, her face pale with fear.
"She's the Clayton heiress," Simon thought. "Her martial skills are weak, but she knows some Clayton techniques."
An idea sparked. He glanced at Daniel's body, then back at Eliza, a plan forming in his mind.