Rubbing the throbbing lump on the back of his head, Lin Feng cursed under his breath.
"Motherf∗∗ker, in my last life I was the one smashing other people's skulls. How did the poor bastard I possessed end up as everyone's punching bag? This situation has to change. I don't have troops or instant strength yet, but if I can't win in the open… I'll just play dirty."
While practicing the horse stance in the small courtyard exactly as the manual described, trying to feel that mysterious "battle qi," he was also scheming.
In his previous life he'd learned one truth: the scariest thing isn't a wolf; it's a wolf in human skin. Beasts aren't frightening—beasts in scholar's robes are the ultimate form.
Back on modern Earth he'd been nothing more than a petty thug. Here, though, he was technically educated. Time to become a refined, cultured, idealistic, caring, and moral "Four-Virtued New-Era Hooligan."
There was an old saying: "Never fear a hooligan—just fear a hooligan with culture."
Fine. Then he'd be the most cultured hooligan this empire had ever seen.
If the boys he'd beaten up and the girls whose butts he'd pinched in his last life heard him proudly declare himself "just a hooligan," they'd chase him down screaming, "You call that a hooligan? You're a f∗∗king demon!"
Even though he still owned a general's mansion outside the palace, Lin Feng had zero intention of moving back. Why would he? The palace had everything—real power players and the most stunning women in the entire empire. Leaving now would be like abandoning a gold mine to go dig dirt.
He'd only been standing in horse stance for a few minutes and still hadn't felt even a fart of battle qi when Little Leaf hurried in.
"Young Master, do you want to change clothes and head to class?"
"Class? Class with who?"
Little Leaf stared. "Young Master… you really forgot? You're the Crown Prince's study companion."
"Ah, right, my head's still fuzzy from the crash. Tell me what I'm supposed to do."
"We're going to Culture & Literature Hall right now. Whatever the other princes say, don't talk back—just swallow it. Otherwise you'll suffer."
Lin Feng thought for a second. "Any specific survival tips?"
"Stay as close as possible to the Crown Prince or the Grand Tutor. The Second Prince and his gang won't dare act too wild then. Last time this happened because His Highness the Crown Prince left early."
"Got it. Let's go."
At the entrance to Culture & Literature Hall, Little Leaf stopped. "I can only bring you this far. Be careful, Young Master."
"Don't worry, I've got this."
He arrived early, so the hall was still empty. Instead of going in, he closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, organizing his thoughts. He knew nothing about the current power struggle—best to lay low for now and figure out exactly how many people had been bullying the body's original owner.
Soon an elderly official in scarlet robes and a winged hat approached. Seeing Lin Feng, he asked kindly, "Lin Feng, are you feeling better? If not, take a few days off. Honestly, everything I teach, you've already mastered."
Lin Feng immediately seized the opening and bowed. "Thank you for your concern, Grand Tutor. I'm perfectly fine now."
"Good, good. Be more careful in the future." The old man sighed as he walked past. "If Old General Lin or your father were still alive, no one would dare treat you like this…"
Lin Feng waited outside. As the Crown Prince's companion, protocol demanded he arrive first and enter last.
One by one, the princes trickled in.
A young man in bright yellow robes—the only one allowed that color—nodded at him. "Feeling better, Lin Feng?"
"Replying to Your Highness, this subject is fully recovered."
"Good. In the future, stay away from that pack of brats. If something happens, hide if you can. I'm going in." The Crown Prince strode inside.
So the original owner and the Crown Prince were on decent terms. But the prince said "that pack," meaning the enemies weren't just one person.
Next came a tall, arrogant prince. "Yo, you're pretty tough—survived one of my punches. Heh, saves me from getting bored in the future."
A seven- or eight-year-old brat piped up, "Next time Big Brother Second should hit harder!"
Lin Feng kept his head down, inwardly roaring: Motherf∗∗ker, the original guy was such a loser even a little kid could shit on his head. Just wait until I get the lay of the land—none of you are walking straight ever again.
The tiny Ninth Prince turned to a woman who had escorted him. "Mother Consort, I'm going in now."
A woman?
Lin Feng's ears pricked up. He looked up—and nearly swallowed his tongue.
The woman beside the little Ninth Prince was tall—half a head taller than Lin Feng himself. Where she should be voluptuous, she was like stormy seas; where she should be slender, a man's hand couldn't span her waist. And that ass… the way it swayed could probably launch a thousand