Chapter 1
1991! Autumn!
As one of the famous underworld families in the Eagle Sauce, the Cavendish family was unfortunate.
Ten years ago, the family patriarch of that generation died mysteriously in a car accident! A very eerie car accident—no witnesses, and not even the vehicle's wreckage was found! It was as if all traces had been deliberately erased!
His wife perished alongside him.
As a great family with a rare single line of succession,
the only one left in the household was the young son, Erwin Cavendish!
With the help of some elders loyal to the Cavendish family, Erwin formally took over many of the family's businesses at the age of six.
Of course, it wasn't smooth sailing at first.
But Erwin quelled all the troubles with a ruthlessness that belied his age.
Starting from a position where no one believed in him, with enemies circling like hungry wolves,
he managed to hold onto the Cavendish family legacy through iron-fisted methods.
And now, in the dark underbelly of London, the Cavendish family is the only one left standing!
Of course, Erwin's success to this point was because he wasn't just a child.
He was a transmigrator.
With the memories of an adult—though in his previous life, he hadn't experienced these things firsthand.
But he'd watched plenty of movies and TV shows.
When it came down to it, getting this far was mostly due to his luck, plus that ability of his that sometimes worked and sometimes didn't.
He might as well call it an ability, anyway—it would erupt with a powerful surge of energy whenever Erwin sensed danger.
That energy protected Erwin, and combined with the fact that no one expected a child so young to wield such ruthless tactics,
he stabilised the family and brought all its businesses under his control.
In the Cavendish family manor.
Erwin sat on the sofa, flipping through the newspaper in his hands.
He wore a impeccably tailored suit that made his figure appear strikingly upright.
His silver hair was neatly combed.
As he browsed the paper, he picked up the coffee cup beside him and took a sip.
He looked every bit the quintessential British aristocrat.
Who could imagine that this eleven-year-old noble boy already had blood on his hands?
Setting down the coffee cup,
Erwin said, "Tom! Any leads on my parents' case?"
The elderly butler at his side replied, "I'm sorry, young master Erwin. Though I hate to tell you this, there are still no leads at all!"
Erwin frowned. "No leads? It's been five years! Ever since I took over the family, I've been investigating! And now you're telling me we haven't found a single thing? Not a trace, not a hint! Was it God who took my parents away?"
The old butler didn't dare respond.
At that moment, a figure rushed hurriedly into the hall.
"Young master Erwin! Young master Erwin!"
Erwin's face darkened instantly.
"Rivers, I seem to recall telling you: if you shout and holler in this house again, I'll cut out your tongue!"
Rivers shuddered all over.
He quickly stammered, "N-no, young master Erwin! It's important—this time it's really important!"
Erwin sighed.
"Fine, then. Tell me! If what you have to say isn't urgent, you can bid farewell to your tongue today!"
Rivers hurriedly explained, "It's like this, young master Erwin: there's a man outside! An old fellow—he wants to see you!"
Erwin said coolly, "Wants to see me? And that's what you call urgent? Am I supposed to meet anyone who asks? What, is he royalty or something? Huh?"
Rivers shook his head. "No! But that old man... he's weird! I can't explain it—could you come see for yourself, young master? A few of us tried to drag him away, but we couldn't budge him!"
Hearing this, Erwin's interest piqued.
Living in this kind of environment, Erwin placed great importance on personal security.
The people left in the manor now were all skilled hands.
In terms of physical prowess alone, any one of them could take on ten without breaking a sweat.
And yet, Rivers was saying what now?
Several of them couldn't move a single old man?
This made Erwin wonder: could it be one of those hidden masters from the novels, come to take him as a disciple after seeing his heavenly talent?
Thinking about it that way, he felt a little excited—what was going on?
Erwin said, "Just bring him in directly!"
Rivers nodded.
"Oh! I'll go get him right now!"
Erwin added, "Have everyone come in! Armed and ready! Stay sharp!"
Rivers nodded. "Got it, young master!"
With that, Rivers scurried off in a hurry.
Erwin settled back beside the sofa.
He drew a pistol from his waist, checked it—confirmed the magazine was loaded and the safety off—before feeling at ease.
No matter what the intruder's intentions were, it was always better to be cautious.
That had always been Erwin's guiding principle.
Without that rigorous approach, Erwin might not have survived this long.
It wasn't long before Rivers returned, escorting an old man.
"Dear Erwin Cavendish, hello! Getting to see you has been quite the ordeal!"
Erwin glanced casually in the man's direction.
Then, Erwin's pupils contracted sharply.
But he quickly masked it.
He recognized the visitor.
Albus Dumbledore!
The wizard hailed as the greatest and most formidable white wizard of the century.
With a battle record boasting victories over two Dark Lords.
Erwin felt a bit numb.
Wait, had he transmigrated into the Hogwarts world?
Damn it—all these years, and he'd only just realized it was the Hogwarts world.
Dumbledore coming to find him? It sure wasn't for a casual chat.
So, did that mean he had magical talent too?
Did that mean he didn't have to be a Muggle anymore?
At the thought, Erwin felt a twinge of quiet joy.
But here's the problem: where was his Hogwarts letter?
Seeing Erwin, a glint flashed across the lenses of Dumbledore's glasses.
With keen interest, he asked, "From the look on your face, it seems you know me?"
Erwin's heart tightened.
He knew his earlier reaction had aroused Dumbledore's suspicion.
The old man was cunning as they come.
Even the slightest clue would set him on alert.
And most importantly, Erwin was wary of Dumbledore.
After all, this was an old coot who'd mastered Legilimency to the point of it being passive.
You couldn't outfox him sneakily—who knew if he'd just hit you with a Legilimency probe?
Erwin wasn't afraid of much, but he dreaded his transmigrator identity being exposed.
No matter the world, the "transmigrator" label always marked you as an outsider.
Dumbledore adjusted his glasses.
The curiosity on his face deepened.
Erwin noticed a faint blue light flicker in Dumbledore's eyes.
Erwin's heart clenched.
In the next moment, a synthesised electronic voice rang out in Erwin's mind!
TL : Drop powerstones!!!