Chapter 3: Bruce

"Young master, are you going out?" the swarthy-faced middle-aged man asked cautiously.

He was the estate’s coachman, mainly responsible for driving Charles’ carriage—his personal driver, in a sense.

"Yes, prepare the carriage. I need to go there again," Charles nodded.

"Understood, young master."

The coachman departed to ready the carriage, and soon drove up in a smooth-moving brown coach, carrying Charles away from the estate.

The Maestrin family estate was located southwest of Shining Gold Town, perched atop a low hill. From the roof of the small manor house, one could see the bustling scenes in the distant town.

It was, after all, a mark of the nobility to keep their distance from commoners—an assertion of their lofty status.

The carriage moved steadily along the blackstone road, soon entering the heart of the town. Charles caught a familiar scent in the air—wine, and the tantalizing aroma of something like scallion pancakes.

He drew back the silver-grey curtain to peer outside, taking in the lively, prosperous scene. Stalls and shops lined the roadside in a busy array. If one ignored the tall horses and the strange, exotic beasts some led, it didn’t look all that different from a rural town in his previous life.

Shining Gold Town owed its prosperity to the Faraday Mines and other gold veins, supporting a thriving community of over ten thousand people—large enough to rival a small city.

The Maestrin family had long dreamed of elevating the town to city status, which would grant them more private soldiers and higher offices. Unfortunately, to become a city lord, one needed at least the title of viscount.

The carriage rolled through the bustling streets and finally stopped in a narrow alley. The emblem of the purple bauhinia above the carriage drew awed, fearful glances from passersby, who hurried away without daring to linger.

Charles stepped down, excitement flickering across his face like a youth eager to uncover some great secret.

The cobbled path beneath his feet was made of blue stone, each slab as large as three or four bricks from his former world.

"Master Charles, welcome, welcome," a man greeted him as soon as he stepped through the courtyard gate, his face adorned with a gentle smile that made Charles think of the phrase "a gentleman as refined as jade."

The man was half a head taller than him, his features sharply defined, golden hair draping smoothly down his back. His light blue eyes, so like Charles’, brimmed with warmth.

He carried himself with the air of a scholar—extraordinary, unworldly—making one feel both admiration and an instinctive sense of closeness.

"Mr. Bruce, I’ve finished reading the books you gave me. When will you allow me to begin training under you?" Charles asked respectfully, lowering his head like a humble, eager student.

"Young master Charles, you truly are diligent," Bruce replied, pausing for a moment as his gaze settled on Charles’ chest. "By the way, are you still wearing the treasure I gave you?"

"I’ve kept it on me these past days, but I was in a hurry after bathing this morning, so I forgot," Charles answered, heart skipping a beat as he instantly realized this man was surely the culprit behind the original owner’s death.

A surge of anxiety gripped him, fearful Bruce might try something again, but he forced himself to stay calm and feigned an embarrassed excuse.

"Oh, be sure not to forget in the future," Bruce said, explaining once more, "That’s a very special treasure. If you wear it for long, it can lengthen your life and keep you free of illness."

Charles listened with a cold sneer in his heart—who would believe it could prolong life? It had, instead, cut the original owner’s life short.

That thing must contain some unknown poison, or perhaps a mineral with deadly radiation, seeping silently into the body—clearly an attempt on his life.

But what was Bruce’s true motive?

He looked up and found Bruce’s smile growing ever warmer and kinder—a kindly elder, smiling as he said, "Since you’ve mastered the basics, let’s proceed to the next step."

"I will now lead you into the world of the Totem Seers!"

Su Hao’s eyes widened in astonishment—he hadn’t expected Bruce to be so agreeable. Was he mistaken about Bruce’s intentions?

In the game, Totem Seers cultivated totems, evolving them until they became super spirit beasts to conquer the world.

Yet, memory told him that in this world, Totem Seers never revealed their abilities to commoners. Like the cultivators in novels from his past life, they lived in a world apart.

In Charles’ sixteen years of life, he had never once witnessed a Totem Seer in action.

Steeling his nerves, he followed Bruce into the basement—a place filled with all manner of curious specimens: butterflies, mantises, and larger birds and beasts. It was like a natural history museum, the three-room cellar crammed with preserved creatures.

"What is all this?" he asked, puzzled.

The books Bruce had given him before were the equivalent of biology texts in his previous life—dull and tedious, detailing classifications and habits of countless creatures.

"Every living thing is a treasure of this world, containing boundless mysteries. Study them with care, and you’ll discover the inheritance factors hidden within. Learn to draw them forth and you can create wondrous totems," Bruce declared, throwing his arms wide before the thousands of specimens, his face alight with the zeal of a scholar lost in his passion.

"Thus, mastering knowledge of living things is the most basic requirement for a Totem Seer—not even entry-level…"

Su Hao fell silent, listening intently. He couldn’t fathom Bruce’s kindness in sharing all this, but the more he learned, the better.

As for his own safety, he wasn’t overly concerned. The coachman was still waiting outside, and the family clearly knew he was here; if he didn’t return, they would surely investigate, perhaps even eliminate Bruce.

And if Bruce truly was a powerful Totem Seer… such a one would hardly need such underhanded tricks!

Given Baron Buyanno’s status, he must be aware of Totem Seers. If Bruce truly had power, he could simply coerce the family openly.

"Mr. Bruce, why did you choose me?" Charles probed.

"Because you possess the aptitude for Totem Seership. That treasure was to strengthen your gift," Bruce replied, his expression turning lofty and detached.

"Aptitude, rune-crafting, and drafting—these are the three foundations for a Totem Seer. But whether you can draw energy from the source crystal, whether you have the innate gift, is the real key to becoming a Totem Seer!"

"Aptitude?" Charles echoed in confusion. In the game, everyone could become a Totem Seer; there was no mention of innate talent.

"If I chose you, that means you have the gift—so there’s no need to worry about that. For now, your main task is to learn draughtsmanship—drafting the blueprints for totem construction. You use these as the basis for building totem components, then infuse them with source energy and inheritance factors to bring them to life…"

Charles’ eyes glazed over; he couldn’t understand a word. In the game, all you had to do was tap your phone a few times—nothing so complicated!

"Don’t worry, it’s still early. Your first task is to learn drafting with me," Bruce said, smiling as if he’d expected such a reaction.

Soon Charles found to his dismay that this "drafting" was almost identical to architectural drawing from his former world—sketching detailed models by hand, only far more complex and precise.

The problem was, he’d been a coder in his previous life—he had no hand-drawing skills at all!

Worse, this style of drawing required one to channel so-called "mental power," using no tools whatsoever—just freehand circles and straight lines, dozens of times harder than ordinary architectural plans.

Bruce would casually draw a perfect circle, but Charles’ attempt was a wobbly mess, like a drunken worm—utterly unsightly.

After more than two hours, Bruce finally said, "Go home and practice. When you can draw such standard figures, come back to me. Tell no one, or our association ends here!"

"Yes, sir," Charles replied respectfully, tucking Bruce’s sample drawing into his pocket as he prepared to leave.

Just then, something strange occurred.

A tiny message appeared in his vision:

"Totem Drafting: Not Initiated."

There was a "+" sign next to it—the symbol for an upgrade in the game, used for leveling up or attribute increases. He focused his gaze experimentally on the symbol.

"What’s wrong, is there a problem?" Bruce asked, noticing Charles standing motionless. Then, as if understanding, he smiled and reassured him, "Don’t worry. Every Totem Seer starts from basic drafting. It’s how you transform your understanding of inheritance factors into practical knowledge. Even a genius needs ten days to half a month to master the basics. I make it look easy, but I’ve been practicing for over a decade…"

Ding!

Suddenly, it was as if Charles had heard a hallucination. He felt something draining away at great speed, the "+" sign trembling and then vanishing.

At the same time, the message changed:

"Totem Drafting: Initiated."