I'll Surpass The MC

Two hours before reaching the entrance, Inala used Subtle Terrain Dominance to gather the moisture in the air and extract heat from it, causing it to form a layer of ice on a tree stem, becoming a reflective surface.

He stared at his appearance and commented, “This will cause some problems.”

“What will?” Wittral asked, oblivious.

“My hair.” Inala said and pointed at the dense strands of hair that cascaded from his head, “This is top tier in the Brimgan Empire’s beauty standard. As long as I have it, many people will pursue me.”

“Are you planning to cut it?” Wittral asked, casual in his tone.

“No,” Inala stared at the mirror and heaved a long breath. Whether it was his male or female mind, none wanted this. But to avoid unnecessary problems, it was best to nip the causes in the bud, “I’m going bald.”

Ignoring Wittral’s excitement in response to his statement, Inala activated Mystic Mist Art in full swing, causing his qualities as a Cooter Clansman to take effect. With regret, he watched the beautiful locks of hair on his head fall down, strand after strand, causing him pangs of pain.

The prettiest part of his female form was his hair, which was honestly something countless women would seethe in envy for. And now, that was no more as he stared at a shiny head that resembled an egg, desperately holding back his tears.

Following suit were his eyelashes and nose hair. That was followed by hair in his pubic regions, making him feel as if he was a pig that had been skinned to be cooked, “I dislike this feeling.”

“I…love it!” Wittral roared in excitement, his face beet red, “You’re gorgeous, now! Amita!”

‘This fucking egg head…!’ Inala controlled the string of curses that almost exploded out of his mouth and heaved in deep breaths. He patted his clothes, using Subtle Terrain Domination to remove the fallen hair from the fabric.

“Let me clean it for you.” Wittral offered help, extremely happy as he gathered all the hair into a bundle and raised the temperate in it until it caught aflame, happy to get rid of it. He stared at Inala and commented, “Now, that’s what I call an Empyrean Beauty!”

“Screw off!” Inala grumbled as he kicked a tree in anger, winced in pain, and walked away. For a moment, he paused and stared at his reflection in the mirror, regretting the decision immediately. Shattering the mirror, he ran away.

“Wait! Paint me a picture of yourself!” Wittral shouted as he chased after Inala, excited. From a detestable Free Human to a loveable Free Human to a Cooter Clansman to a bald Cooter Clansman, Wittral loved Amita Brimgan’s evolution.

As for the Cooter Clan? He already placed it in the back of his mind and pursued what he wanted with a wide grin.

Soon, the duo arrived at the Brimgan Empire’s entrance.

Standing guard was a 2-Life Stage cultivator, donning an extravagantly useless armour. Concealed within it was his actual, practical-use armour, simple in appearance but robust in its function.

The extravagant armour sported horns all over the place to make it as imposing as possible. Decks of rectangular scales covered it, creating a lotus-shaped skirt that reached his knee. Held in his hand was a three-metre-long spear, golden, with intricate patterns of silver and a bunch of other colours.

Embedded at the joint between the blade and the shaft was a precious-looking gem. The design screamed wealth from top to bottom. Of course, it was useless in a battle and would shatter in a matter of seconds.

“Stop!” The guard shouted and released his Prana, sensing the strength of the duo before him. He observed their style of clothes and commented in disdain, “Refugees from Rumtara?”

“Y-Yes,” Since Wittral sucked at acting, Inala took charge of playing the role. “We fled from the Rumtara Kingdom.”

“Fuck, you’re a woman?” The guard made a face of disgust upon hearing Inala’s voice, staring at Inala’s bald head as if he had seen the ugliest existence in his life.

“Yes, I am.” Inala nodded, taking a step forward to appear before Wittral so that the guard wouldn’t see Wittral’s fuming expression. “We have come to seek refuge here.”

“Every trash wants a spot in paradise, huh?” The guard snorted as he pointed to the side, “Go there and prove your worth. If we find you useful, you’ll be granted entry.”

“Thank you, your grace.” Inala bowed in response and dragged Wittral with him to a simple mansion at the side. It was where the refugees displayed their worth and were judged whether they were worthy or not to be granted asylum in the Brimgan Empire.

There were strict identification measures present in the Brimgan Empire, with the database maintained across different institutions in the Empire. Without it, one wouldn’t be deemed a citizen.

Only citizens can purchase anything of worth in the Brimgan Empire, from land to even simple items like carriages.

Through Fhoong Brimgan’s memories, Inala was capable of creating a fake ID, but it wouldn’t work, since that information wouldn’t be registered in the Brimgan Empire’s database. And when he purchases something, a verification would be conducted, which would prove his forgery.

There were hundreds of information centres. It would take Inala decades to add his fake ID to their records, not to mention the various risks it posed. Instead of that, it was better to prove himself as a refugee and obtain a Refugee ID.

At least through that, he had a working chance. Eventually, he could contribute enough to the Empire and get accepted as a legal citizen, gaining full rights as a Brimgan Empire citizen. From that point on, he would be able to buy properties in the Empire.

To have an easier time reaching the Attribute, he had to purchase a certain house in Fentan City. Therefore, it was best to make his way in legally.

“Your name?” A grumpy middle-aged man sat in the mansion. The interior of the mansion was merely a large hall filled with a bunch of items, ranging from simple merchandise such as food grains to expensive Spirit Weapons.

“Amita,” Inala said.

“Is your mouth sealed shut or something?” The grumpy middle-aged man stared at Wittral with a mocking gaze, “Name?”

lightsnοvεl “…Wittral,” Wittral said through clenched teeth.

“Such ego for a pathetic refugee.” The grumpy middle-aged man snorted and noted down the details. He then pointed at the wares, “Go ahead, show me what you can do. If it’s lacking, I’m kicking you out.”action

‘Tch!’ Wittral had never been disrespected like this by a mere Free Human. Even with his pitiful Prana, he had the confidence to wipe the floor with the middle-aged man. However, upon being glared at by Inala, he controlled himself and arrived before a set of grains.

He used a pestle to crush them and prepared them. Thirty minutes later, he created a simple beverage.

 “Hmm…” The grumpy middle-aged man tasted it and made a note, “A brewer. That vocation is a bit rare here. Fine, you pass.”

He then stared at Inala and scowled, “Go ahead.”

It was taxing on his eyes to stare at a bald woman. Ignoring his expression, Inala painted the scene of the Lotus Range he had just witnessed and presented it.

“Good! Despite your ugly appearances, you are both talented.” The grumpy middle-aged man caused two marble plaques to hover before him as he inscribed a bunch of details in it, treating it similar to the Mammoth Clan’s Bone Slip.

But the information in it could never be altered once created. Such was the Skill employed by the middle-aged man. He threw the Refugee IDs to Inala and Wittral and commented casually, “Do your best to assimilate with our culture.”

“Welcome to the Brimgan Empire.”