"The War God Academy?"
Leilin knew that the War God Academy was the best knight academy in the Salla Kingdom where George studied. It only accepted nobles as students, and its admission requirements were extremely strict—rumor had it that only true geniuses were taken in!
"Fencing is merely my hobby. Only becoming a
The power of a Knight, though formidable, still fell within Leilin's comprehension and had not exceeded the bounds of what he could imagine. But the legendary Wizards were beings capable of commanding wind, rain, thunder, and lightning, and of attaining extended lifespans!
The might of Wizards had clearly surpassed the limits of humanity—something even Leilin could not fathom.
Moreover, every Wizard was a learned scholar who studied everything in nature with rigorous discipline, discerned its patterns, and harnessed them to wield tremendous power! This approach suited Leilin's former identity as a scientist far better.
"Indeed! Even a Great Knight is nothing more than a servant to a true Wizard. The power that Wizards command is beyond anything we can imagine…" George's expression turned solemn as he spoke with an almost theatrical tone.
"Why is it that no matter what you say, you always make me feel like I'm listening to a traveling bard?" Leilin rolled his eyes.
"Haha… It's because my old man sent me to the royal court for so-called noble etiquette training, and this is what came of it!" George reverted to his usual demeanor.
He suddenly blinked and said with a mischievous grin: "Leilin, you don't have a fiancée yet, do you? Why don't I introduce my sister Lyre to you? What do you say about becoming my brother-in-law…"
"Get lost!"
Under the moonlight, the two young men wrestled and jostled their way off the meadow.
"Good night, George!"
"Good night, Leilin!"
Leilin handed the Cross Sword back to George, said his farewells, and returned to the carriage.
The dimly lit carriage was still empty save for himself. It carried a faint, unpleasant smell—a nauseating mix of decay and sweat that made the young nobles unwilling to linger inside. The moment rest time came, they scattered onto the meadow like untamed colts.
The views of this world were quite open in certain respects, especially among the nobility. Using the heightened perception provided by the Chip, Leilin had witnessed a number of other things as well, which forced him to choose training spots even further from the camp.
Recalling the scenes he had glimpsed with his keen eyes, Leilin felt a twinge of speechlessness. They reminded him of memories from his previous life's idle young masters.
"I never expected that with a young body, even my desires would intensify…" Leilin gave a bitter smile.
After calming himself slightly, he thought: "Chip! Display my physical data!"
"Leilin Farell. Strength: 1.5. Agility: 1.6. Constitution: 1.4. Status: Healthy."
It had been over a month since he began practicing the Knight's Breathing Technique. Leilin's physical condition now not only caught up with his peers but slightly surpassed them. When facing George, he had concealed his true strength, leaving George with only vague and inaccurate guesses.
"Good.
Leilin assumed his stance and entered a training state. This was his daily routine—the Chip's analysis indicated that performing the Breathing Technique after nighttime exercise yielded the best results.
After roughly twenty minutes, Leilin's body was drenched in sweat, but the dark impurities seeping out had noticeably decreased.
"Phew!" Leilin opened his eyes, examined his body, and remarked with some resignation: "The Breathing Technique's effectiveness is weakening, which is to be expected. According to the Chip's calculations, the Farell family's secret Breathing Technique, even after optimization, will completely lose its effect once it boosts my physical parameters to 2.0… That corresponds to the Preliminary Knight threshold. Beyond that, only through personal effort and the life-or-death pressure of the outside world can I attempt to stimulate my Life Energy and make further progress…"
With that thought, Leilin fished a yellow berry from his jacket pocket. Its surface was speckled with black spots, giving it a rather sinister appearance.
He tossed the berry straight into his mouth, then pulled out a plant root and began chewing it heartily.
"Beep! Subject's cellular fatigue has been relieved. The Knight's Breathing Technique training may be resumed."
The Chip's voice chimed in.
"Good." These plant formulations were the result of nearly a month of continuous experimentation guided by the Chip. They could effectively relieve physical fatigue and increase the number of training sessions possible each day.
Combined with certain Constitution-enhancing potions he had brewed, Leilin's physical parameters had been able to improve so rapidly.
"Again!" Leilin entered the Breathing Technique state once more.
Over the past month, the caravan had passed through several small kingdoms before finally entering the wilderness regions.
The wilderness was sparsely inhabited, home only to desolate yellow sand, savage beasts, and the occasional trace of bandits.
Since the caravan entered this territory, it had encountered danger on several occasions. Though there had been no casualties, Leilin's sense of crisis grew ever stronger, and his desire for greater power became increasingly urgent.
…
When the dawn's first light blazed across the sky, the caravan set off once again.
Leilin sat alone with his arms crossed over his chest. The youths nearby gave him a wide berth with expressions of distaste, leaving a clear space around him.
"I wonder what methods Besta used—the people in the carriages are still shunning me. If it were any ordinary young man, he'd probably have been driven mad by now! Too bad they're dealing with me!"
Leilin stretched languidly. Training deep into the previous night had left him quite exhausted, and this open space was perfect for a short nap.
"Though this world really is enormous. The caravan has been traveling for nearly half a year, and we still haven't reached the destination—not even the sea in sight…"
Leilin mused as he dozed off, eyes half-closed.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The carriage had come to a stop. A figure in black robes rang a handbell: "Gentlemen! Ladies! Time to disembark and enjoy your lunch!"
"Is it that time already?" Leilin opened his eyes. "This kind of life really is tedious."
After getting down from the carriage and collecting his allotted portion of food, Leilin walked toward a patch of brush at the camp's edge, biting into a piece of white bread.
The substitute plants he had gathered before had run out, and Leilin intended to replenish his supply.
As he walked, he casually surveyed the surrounding vegetation. "That's a Bi Gen Nut—already in the database. Useless to me."
"Hmm! Sandman Grass. This is a wilderness-only plant—worth cataloguing." Leilin plucked a small, earth-yellow blade of grass. Its edges were serrated and quite sharp. He carefully snapped the stem, and green sap oozed from the break. He dabbed a finger into it and touched it to his tongue, then let disappointment show on his face.
"Found it—Fig Snake Fruit!" Leilin dropped the Sandman Grass on the ground and strolled onward. A sideways glance revealed yesterday's yellow berry nestled among the underbrush, and a look of delight appeared on his face.
"Heh heh! Look what I've found! Leilin, should I say that as a petty countryside noble, you really live up to the reputation? Eating wild berries off the road like this… You're shaming the honor of us nobles…"
Just as Leilin picked the Fig Snake Fruit and slipped it into his pocket, an irritating voice reached his ears.
"Olin?" Leilin looked up and saw the culprit who had beaten his predecessor to death.
Olin had fiery red hair, a body packed with muscle, and arms as thick as Leilin's thighs. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, sneering at Leilin.
Flanking him were several other noble youths, all chiming in with mocking laughter.
"Chip! Scan his data!"
"Scan complete! Olin. Strength: 1.7. Agility: 1.2. Constitution: 1.5. Status: Healthy."
The Chip fed back the information.
Leilin studied the data before him. Olin's capabilities were quite impressive—his Strength was nearly double that of a grown man. No wonder he had beaten the previous Leilin so badly that the boy had died of his injuries.
As a fellow noble scion, as long as one endured hardship, trained daily, and supplemented with the Breathing Technique, such numbers were hardly surprising.
The nobles trailing behind Olin were considerably weaker—most of their parameters fell below 1.0. Leilin even spotted a pale-faced youth whose stats hovered around 0.5, on par with his predecessor's former level.
He calculated silently. Olin's strength was roughly equal to his own, but in terms of swordsmanship and technique, there was no way the man could match someone equipped with the Chip. As for the others, they were mere hangers-on—the stat disparity was enormous, and dealing with them would be as effortless as an adult bullying a child.
"What do you want?" Leilin asked, his tone perfectly calm.
"You…" Leilin's reaction clearly caught Olin off guard. There was neither anger nor fear—Olin didn't know how to continue.
"If this is about the Besta incident from before, didn't I already apologize? And Besta forgave me…" Leilin went on.
At the same time, a thought struck him: this might be a probe from Besta. Had she finally lost patience after a month of restraint?
"That's right! It's exactly because of Besta! She may have forgiven you, but I haven't!" Olin clenched his fists, his voice booming.
"Fine. So what do you want?" Leilin spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness, though deep in his eyes glinted a mocking light.
He hadn't expected Leilin to be so accommodating. Olin struggled for a moment before finally squeezing out: "Swear an oath that you will never again provoke Besta!"
"Done!" Leilin agreed at once, placing his right hand over the emblem on his chest—a design bearing a Cross Sword and a lark, the crest of the Farell Family.
"I swear upon the name of the Farell Family that I will never again take the initiative to provoke Besta!"
Swearing in the name of one's family was among the most solemn oaths in noble society. Those who broke it would be shunned by the entire aristocracy.
"Then, Mr. Olin—may I go now?"
Leilin gave a slight bow, executing a flawless noble's salutation.
"Wait!" It seemed Leilin's meekness had exceeded Olin's expectations, for a greedy gleam now entered his eyes. "According to noble law, you still owe compensation. Hand over all the Magic Stones you have!"
"Magic Stones!" The onlookers gasped.
"Magic Stones?" Leilin repeated. According to his memories, Magic Stones served as a universal currency among Wizards—and they were also the mandatory fee for Wizard Apprentices who lacked a token of sponsorship when enrolling in an academy.
Leilin had no idea how much a formal enrollment required, because he didn't have a single Magic Stone on his person. Viscount John had apparently tried numerous methods to acquire Magic Stones but hadn't managed to obtain even one—which spoke volumes about how precious they were.