Chapter 12: I Don't Discriminate Against Transmigrants, I Just Hate Li Ensu

“Oh, traveler Li Ensu, you’ve come?”

The greeting upon entering the dream instantly made Li En bristle.

Fragments of possibilities—fragmentation, execution, countless fates for discovered travelers—flashed through his mind, but then he suddenly understood.

“This is just a dream.”

Looking at the old knight waving at him from afar, Li En felt a pang of resentment.

If he had received the other’s memories, then perhaps it was plausible that the other had received his own?

Maybe this guy was deliberately trying to scare him?

“Is this really just a dream?” And then he began to doubt it.

What he saw, heard, and touched was utterly real.

This was a barren wasteland without stars, lit only by moonlight beneath his feet; his soles felt solid, and when he clenched his fist, he clearly felt his own limbs.

Li En could not distinguish reality from dream—he could even smell the aroma of roasted meat drifting through the wasteland.

Huh? Why is there roasted meat smell?

“Hungry?” The ancient spirit waved a skewer in his hand.

Before him stood four barbecue grills, hundreds of skewers—vegetables, fruits, meats—all present. Li En even spotted many fruits from his homeland.

“Mm.” Since he was here, he might as well enjoy it—Li En was hungry.

“Not giving you any. Roast your own.” Well, clearly a terrible personality.

Upon first meeting, hearing his “true name” spoken aloud filled Li En with genuine fear.

But now, this slightly eccentric “uncle” before him had eased his tension—had this been the imagined image of a stern, iron-faced spirit judge, Li En would have grown even more restrained.

He studied the man carefully.

His towering frame was encased in full heavy armor; his seemingly perfect proportions were likely twice Li En’s height, and the arm wielding the skewer was thicker than Li En’s own thigh.

The armor was not ornate, even somewhat worn—on his left shoulder, the cross of judgment; on the right, the scales of justice—but both were faded and worn, riddled with scars and gashes across what appeared to be legendary metal.

He must be a wolfkin—those two gray wolf ears were unmistakable. After removing the faceless judge’s mask symbolizing “impartial judgment,” he wore a half-face mask resembling a bat-chin hero—but he had none of the hero’s no-killing code.

This was a naked killing machine.

The moment he saw him, Li En recalled the memory fragments: how this armored tank had slashed through demons with one blow after another.

“.I believe this is a dream.” Such a monster could not possibly exist in the real world.

“Yes, this is your dream, your world, so—”

The middle-aged man’s booming laugh echoed across the wasteland.

“.So don’t worry about soul possession or anything like that.” The old man grinned smugly at the youth, his chin whiskers twitching.

Instantly, Li En’s face turned ashen—he had been seen through again.

“Relax, it’s not mind reading.” The middle-aged man rubbed his bearded chin, even more smug. “Just experience, kid. What you’re thinking is transparent to me.”

As if remembering something, the old man suddenly laughed heartily. “You’d be better off worrying about those around you than me. Forget it—dead men shouldn’t interfere with the living.”

Then don’t just half-speak!

This, perhaps, was why Li En hated “old things”—always deliberately speaking in fragments, holding back.

When you’re right, it’s your command; when you’re wrong, it’s all your fault. Ask too hard, and you get nothing.

At this point, don’t follow their rhythm—Li En’s experience told him: if the old man wanted to say something, he’d have said it already. Pressing him only invites more mockery.

“Ah, yeah, yeah.”

Li En’s lack of cooperation only made the other laugh harder.

Could avoiding questions also be part of the trap?

“Tch, old brat.” Li En launched a personal attack.

“Disappointed?”

Li En paused, then shook his head.

Even with only fragments of memory, he had seen Su Er’s dazzling life—judging him solely by these surface traits would make him superficial.

He, Su Er Dawng, was a true immortal hero.

And now, for Li En, simply tasting roasted lamb with cumin and chili from his memories was more than enough.

“Brat, roast your own meat—don’t steal mine!”

“Hmph, not bad. Did you train for this?”

Even though his identity as a traveler had been exposed, Li En found it normal.

After calming down, he didn’t believe he could hide from a spirit floating atop his soul.

He was observing—observing how the other viewed him. He worried about regional prejudice.

Though subtle, a bit of hostility toward “aliens” was only natural, especially for a guardian knight.

“Pffhaaa, Li Ensu, you really are amusing. Don’t worry—I don’t despise travelers. You’ll learn later—it’s nothing at all. This world has too many weird things; one more or less traveler makes no difference.” And of course, the other had seen through all of it.

But that statement carried far too much information.

Li En smiled along, his mindset relaxing—the noble knight in his memory wouldn’t lie.

He grew tense again—were there travelers everywhere? Were there even stranger things?

In the boundless wasteland, the barbecue grills brought warmth. Li En calmly enjoyed his likely unsatisfying midnight snack.

The two chatted intermittently; perhaps due to soul resonance, they unexpectedly clicked.

But no dinner lasts forever.

“Time’s up. Come on.” The feast was over—time to work.

When the greasy middle-aged man clapped his hands and stood, only a knight like a steel wall remained.

An impregnable wall. A sword of divine law, unbreakable.

He drew his ancient two-handed longsword—in Li En’s eyes, it was nothing less than a giant door panel.

Since he had been invited, there was no reason to refuse.

Li En took a deep breath, gripped the silver-white Sword of the Hero, and lifted it lightly to meet the challenge.

He fixed his gaze, prepared.

“Need a countdown?” The other seemed remarkably relaxed.

“No, SIR!!!”

His flying head spun through the air before he finally saw the silver flash.

Seven meters away—in the blink of an eye—the blade’s strike was over.

His final memory: the hand sheathing the sword, and the unhidden, wicked grin of the stubbly chin.

“I—I—” Seconds later, “revived,” Li En regained his senses.

“Relax, you’re still alive. How was dying?”

Same position. Same stance. They hadn’t even started fighting—but Li En felt the coldness on his neck. He had indeed been beheaded; his head had flown far away.

He looked at the wicked middle-aged man, who seemed utterly unconcerned.

No—the sword rose again.

“Wait—”

“Relax, you’ll get used to dying more than once.”

Li En heard this while face-down, blood oozing from his lips, his lower body numb. It was confirmed: being cut in half died slower than beheading—he could see for several seconds.

“Click.”

The bronze gears roared—the dream reset, identical position.

“Wait! Let me prepare—” Even in training, at least give me a moment.

This time, Su Er didn’t strike immediately—he patiently waited for Li En to recover.

Li En racked his brain, thinking how to respond.

“Ready? Doesn’t matter anyway—I’m not in a hurry.” Su Er asked slowly.

At that moment, Li En was certain: this man might truly be called a hero—but his personality was absolutely terrible. The image of the stoic, solemn knight from memory fragments had shattered.

The middle-aged version might have been a rigid, orthodox knight—but the old knight before him, nearing life’s end, was a wicked old brat!

“Ready. Go! Again with the ambush!”

This time, he didn’t even see the blade—his heart was pierced.

“Aren’t you a spirit? A top-tier knight? Show some honor!”

“Opponents on the battlefield don’t care about honor. The nobler the knight, the more he must know the low tactics.”

This old guy had zero honor whatsoever!

“Click.” Time reset again.

“Huff. Again.” Li En took a deep breath, activated Dragon Eye, and fixed his gaze entirely on Su Er.

This time, he’d catch the movement.

“Clang.” Then he died.

“See that?” Beneath the mask, the unhidden, cheerful smirk remained—nothing like a just knight.

“.No.” Li En touched his head—it was still there. This time, he’d been crushed by the door-panel sword.

“Then do it again.” The spirit wasn’t in a hurry—his time seemed endless.

“Mm.” The dream training must be this—accumulating battlefield experience through simulated deaths.

So he died. Again. And again.

Cut in half, beheaded, crushed, pierced—this was only the beginning.

Then, the blade split one into two, two into four, blossomed in the center, and instantly sliced fish—every cutting technique, horizontal and vertical, displayed the chef’s overly refined skill.

Combat? Capture moves? What? How is this situation even related to combat?

Isn’t it always over in a flash of blade light? In most cases, Li En didn’t even see the blade light before he was gone.

“Wait, this isn’t right. Practicing like this won’t help.”

Li En finally noticed—the vast gap in base attributes and skills made this kind of practice essentially meaningless.

“At least, you’ve become accustomed to death. Then, you’ll get what you want.”

Saying this, the silver-armored knight tossed over a bag of equipment.

Inside were a black knight’s glove, a pair of silver-white riding boots, and a gleaming silver bracelet.

“Speed boots paired with mighty gloves—standard gear for weakling warriors and knights. The bracelet has a standard holy power spell, one use per day. Oh, here, it’s unlimited.”

The old knight finally seemed to remember his duty as a mentor, even teaching Li En how to use them: activate the holy power spell first, then put on the gloves, to avoid being instantly cursed into a twisted form.

He also warned Li En to get some “Lesser Curse Removal” scrolls and holy relics after leaving—once these cursed items cling to you, they often can’t be removed directly.

Li En took a deep breath, followed his mentor’s instructions, slipped on the bracelet, donned the gloves, and pulled on the speed boots.

He felt power surging through his entire body—he could now fight any formidable foe, and he was about to experience the peak state he’d imagined.

“Puff.” Amid a soft laugh, all three items turned to ash; all that remained in Li En’s hand was a handful of dust.

Along with the laughter came the man’s quiet whisper.

“This is a dream. These are my creations. You must make your own.”

Li En fell silent. This old bastard was truly too much.

But after a deep breath, he recalled the previous sensations—and one by one, the items reappeared.

Su Er was right: this was Li En’s dream. He could create anything he knew. And Su Er had already provided the sample.

After dozens of seconds, the gear reappeared in his hands. Li En silently dressed himself.

Holy light shone upon him; the gloves granted might, the boots granted speed and explosive power, and the holy force brought a complete leap forward.

At this moment, he finally possessed the standard power of a holy knight.

He looked at the waiting spirit knight, now vaguely certain of a truth.

“You, still claim you don’t discriminate against transmigrants? You really hate me, don’t you?”

“I don’t discriminate against transmigrants. But I really don’t like Li Ensu.”

“Compatibility issue?”

“No. I simply dislike Li Ensu.”

Fine, this isn’t discrimination?! I don’t discriminate against orcs—but your orc buddy better never step into my house!

A knight openly discriminating by race, yet sworn to justice and fairness? Li En felt his nose twist with rage—he was almost laughing from anger.

“As for why I dislike you, you’ll find out soon enough. No—you’ll know very soon.” The knight still smiled, but his eyes had seen through everything.

Li En raised his sword. This time, he would pour his fury into it.

“Clang!”

A flash of silver light—and everything reset.

Any difference? Maybe. Perhaps. Probably.

Decapitation, strangulation, cleaving—Li En kept enduring the agony of being one-shot again and again.

“Wait, I need a break.” Finally, when death had numbed him, he called a stop himself.

He thought for a moment—not because he feared death, but because practicing like this—

“Will this really help? In so many novels and stories, you can drastically improve through death combat.”

But if I keep dying like this, am I actually improving?

“How could it possibly help? Stop reading all that nonsense. Strength comes from steady, daily practice. What can you gain in one night?”

Though it was a sound argument, at this moment, Li En was utterly stunned.

Then why did I die all night? Was it meaningful?

“Of course. I had fun.” The old knight was utterly malicious.

“You still claim you don’t discriminate against transmigrants!!”

“No. I just dislike Li Ensu.”

The same words, spoken by the grinning knight, completely drained Li En’s resolve.

At this moment, without the spirit’s power, he felt like an ordinary man.

He lay down. Gave up. Didn’t want to move.

“Alright, then it’s about time to begin tonight’s spirit guidance.”

Wait, what do you mean?

What? You’re only starting now? All that was just for you to kill me for fun?

Where’s your conscience? Where’s the conscience of the most just Grand Judge Knight?!

Li En’s mouth twitched with rage—he’d never met such a vile personality.

“No, you have.”

Saying this, the legendary knight—the rigidly righteous one—removed his “bat” mask.

The weathered face, though he’d never seen it before, felt familiar. Extremely familiar.

But before he could recall where he’d seen it, the dream violently overturned—he plunged deeper into the dream.

In that dream, the scene and words were unmistakably familiar.

This was history. A past memory.

He stood alone in a cramped bathroom, whispering to the mirror.

The old knight’s temples were streaked with gray, his face scarred, and his gray wolf ears half-missing.

This once battle-hardened holy knight now seemed uneasy, even neurotic.

The spinning vision steadied. Li En’s spirit merged with it—and only then did he hear the whisper from his own lips.

“I am Su Er Daong. And also… the transmigrant Li Ensu?!”

The face in the mirror was, of course, familiar—it was an elderly wolf-man version of Li Ensu himself!!

Hello, transmigrant Li Ensu. What a coincidence—I’m also the transmigrant Li Ensu.

“I am Li Ensu. And also the oath-breaking rebel knight, Su Er Daong.” The old knight in the mirror continued murmuring to himself.

(End of Chapter)