In 1845, Canada had just completed the unification of its territories, becoming the largest overseas colony of the United Kingdom.
Edmond, where the Howlett family resided, was the largest city in Alberta. Though British aristocrats across the ocean viewed colonial landowners as inferior, it was undeniable that, in this region, the Howlett family was the most powerful, wealthy, and influential.
Summers in the Midwest were brutal. The towering Rocky Mountains blocked the cold tundra winds from the north, while the cool breezes from the east never reached beyond the mountain base. Inside the manor, there were ample ice blocks to cool the rooms—even the horses in the stable benefited from such luxury.
But out on the pastures, the farm workers and slaves could only let their sweat water the land.
Mr. Howlett believed they were naturally suited to such an environment, insisting that it aligned with his philosophy of "strict yet fair" governance. Since most of them were dark-skinned, he claimed they were meant to toil under the sun—it was simply the natural order.
James had just begun adjusting to the structured life of aristocrats. A tutor had been hired to teach him writing and arithmetic, along with noble etiquette.
The tutor, Mr. Daniel, was recruited from London with a generous salary. He was an Oxford graduate with a degree in literature and history, fluent in both French and Latin.
Mr. Howlett was determined that his grandson—the heir to the family fortune—would not grow up in this untamed land as a mere cowboy who could only ride horses and shoot guns. The Howlett family aspired to true British nobility, and so, James was given the finest education available, costing a hefty 13 pounds per week.
Every day, young James studied arithmetic for an hour with Mr. Daniel, followed by an hour of English and history, and an hour each of French and Latin.
Breaks were rare—just 15 minutes between lessons—mainly because James had shown great academic progress over the past month.
Although he was generally obedient, his curiosity about the outside world was natural at his age. Books were not always as exciting as ponies. His companion, the little maid Rose O'Hara, excelled in her studies far more than he did, which made Mr. Daniel push him even harder.
"Alright, James, that's it for today. Very good work, especially in arithmetic. I think you'll be able to help Mr. Howlett in a few weeks! But your French still needs improvement—it's a crucial language in the UK," Mr. Daniel remarked.
"Yes, Mr. Daniel. I'll keep working on it," James replied politely.
Rose O'Hara, the red-haired maid, curtsied beside him. "I heard there are fireflies in the valley at night! Master James, do you want to go see them?" she asked excitedly.
"Sorry, O'Hara, I need to review my homework tonight," James responded absentmindedly.
"You always say that... and you still call me O'Hara like a stranger!" she pouted.
James sighed. "I call you that because it sounds cuter—it suits you."
"Really? You think I'm cute?" she asked, her mood changing like a sea breeze.
"Yes, you're the cutest in the manor."
Rose giggled with satisfaction, completely forgetting about the fireflies. She waved goodbye and went off to the servants' quarters for dinner.
Even though James had never dealt with children much in his past life, he often found himself troubled by this little shadow that followed him everywhere.
Rose's mother, Elizabeth, was the personal maid of James's mother. After the tragic death of his older brother, Tony, the Howlett family had stopped employing black servants. Instead, Elizabeth and Rose had come from Northern Ireland to seek work. The journey across the ocean had not been easy.
Many impoverished British citizens sought opportunities in the colonies, hoping to serve wealthy landowners. While life in Canada was not as comfortable as in their homeland, the wages were better, and serving the upper class offered a glimpse into a world otherwise out of reach.
Fortunately, James used reading as an excuse to secure precious time alone in his room. His rapid academic progress helped justify his self-imposed solitude.
Everyone in the manor believed that young Master James's greatest passion was studying alone in his room. Otherwise, how could they explain why a child of twelve or thirteen spent four to five hours alone each day—rather than chasing foals or climbing trees like before?
But in truth, James's real hobby had nothing to do with studying.
Nineteenth-century education was limited, especially in colonial regions. Even an Oxford graduate without a mathematics background would struggle to match the arithmetic skills of a modern-day Chinese student.
His English in his previous life had been average, but his vocabulary had far surpassed that of a child. French and Latin were still new to him, but with effort, they weren't difficult to master.
After dinner, once he had exchanged pleasantries with his grandfather and parents, James excused himself to "study." Mr. Howlett, pleased with his grandson's diligence, nodded in approval. James then went upstairs and quietly closed the door behind him.
Standing still, he took a deep breath, parted his feet slightly, and assumed a peculiar stance, hands resting on his waist.
The balcony doors were wide open, revealing a sky full of stars and a bright moon. He focused on his breathing, his body rising and falling in rhythm. Slowly, his muscles warmed up, and he shifted his stance, stretching his body with smooth, controlled movements. His joints cracked in sequence as he twisted his spine, lowering himself into different postures.
For a full hour, he cycled through these movements before finally relaxing and falling onto the bed.
"For nearly a month, I've been practicing foundational stances, performing Baduanjin in the morning, stimulating my joints, and refining my internal energy at night. This body isn't as weak as I expected. It should be no different from a healthy child... so why was I always sick before? Could it really just be a severe allergy? If so, practicing martial arts might not be enough to cure it..."
Lying on his back, James pondered his situation.
Perhaps due to his previous martial arts training, his mental and psychological resilience had reached a level where even reincarnating into a different time period didn't unsettle him.
His predecessor had been highly intelligent, but his body had been frail—what modern medicine would diagnose as congenital heart disease and kidney failure. His bones had been thin and brittle, and his health had always been poor.
In his past life, he had used internal martial arts to strengthen his body over time, progressing through various stages of physical refinement.
Even so, his physical strength had only ever reached that of an average person. If he pushed himself too hard, his heart wouldn't be able to keep up—he could still die young.
Now, he found himself in 19th-century Canada, a harsh and undeveloped British colony. But at least his family was wealthy, and his new life seemed free of financial worries. His health still presented some mysteries, but it was better than his previous existence.
Knock, knock…
There were two soft knocks on the door before Elizabeth's gentle voice called, "Jamie, are you still awake?"