A Competent Knight

This matter could not be kept under wraps. Even if those in the martial training ground kept quiet, the elderly friends "spectating" here would spare no effort in broadcasting it far and wide. Old friends of an advanced age were like Wien bean paste—the older they got, the more easily they turned bad. One old man stroked his chest and said, "This boy named Karen is quite interesting. He is clearly skilled at close-quarters combat, yet he managed to completely deceive that old fellow Liwen." "Indeed. Liwen got one thing right—this is the last kind of person you'd want to face in the enemy ranks, yet the one you'd pray to have on your own side. I like a young fellow who uses his head." "Have you noticed? He's exceptionally adept at spellcasting. In both efficiency and potency, the spells he cast surpassed the realm of an ordinary Inquisitor. No, it's a level an ordinary Inquisitor couldn't reach at all." "I noticed. More than that, I noticed he didn't even go all out. He showed quite a bit of restraint." "He advanced steadily, forcing Liwen into a corner before putting him down with a final sword strike. He even calculated Liwen's protective beast's counterattack. When would someone use this kind of combat style? Only when he knows for certain that as long as he makes no mistakes and takes no risks, a steady victory is assured. He was facing a vice commander, after all. Even if retired, even if restricted to rank-one strength, that kind of composure... Tsk, tsk, whose kid is this?" "A true talent. In the past, that old fogey Liwen always liked to say that people forged in the knight orders don't have obvious shortcomings like outsiders do. To me, this Karen is the one who truly has no shortcomings." "By the way, Piro, you gave a lesson yesterday. Do you remember this trainee?" Piro scratched his head. "What was his name again?" "Karen. His family name is Silva." Piro shook his head. "No impression. I'm not shameless like Liwen, stepping into the ring to duel students personally just because I couldn't carry on the lecture. Heh." "Then when I teach tomorrow, I'll definitely have to pay close attention to this boy." Piro chuckled. "I advise you not to waste your breath. The higher-ups' intention is very clear. Specific arrangements are already in place for this batch of young people; you won't be able to poach him." "Doesn't matter if I can't poach him. The older I get, the more those so-called young geniuses irritate my eyes. It's rare to see someone actually interesting." "True enough. We've seen plenty of geniuses, but how many actually live to our age?" Piro quietly picked up his teacup and took a sip, feeling a twinge of regret in his heart—regret over his stinginess yesterday, having given only a single coin. ... Although the instructor had been knocked flat, today's lesson had actually only just begun. Karen set the greatsword down beside the weapon rack without hanging it up. Because according to the designated procedure, he would probably have to pick it up two more times. Then Karen stepped back into formation and spoke: "When each of you receives the instructor's guidance next, pay close attention to how he chooses to respond during combat. The instructor will let you make the first move, then seize the opportunity to dismantle your technique and counterattack. Therefore, do not adopt an all-out, all-or-nothing approach. Leave yourself a way out. You must believe that on an equal level of strength, it is impossible for you to defeat the instructor. So the longer you can hold out, the more you will be able to learn from him." The team members beside him nodded one after another. Even Muri's squad was listening intently. Liwen suddenly felt that this young man, who had looked so displeasing to the eye ever since entering, was looking more and more agreeable now, and his words sounded increasingly pleasant. "Next!" Liwen called out. Muri didn't hesitate. He stepped forward directly, choosing a short blade and a shield. Looking at this loadout, Liwen asked, "From the Benda family?" "Yes." "Who is Mobiten to you?" "My grandfather." "Alright, understood." The Benda family was known as the foremost guardian family of the Church of Order. Their family bore an inherited mission: to protect the High Priests throughout the generations, serving as captains of the High Priest's guard. The lineage of this family stretched back into antiquity. Long ago, an ancestor of the Benda family had covered the retreat of a wounded High Priest, holding off a massive horde of pursuers all on his own with just a short blade and a shield for three days and three nights before finally dying of exhaustion. "State your realm." "Inquisitor." "Alright. Rank-four strength." The battle between the two began. An excellent chef could make the most ordinary ingredients delicious, but give him richer, higher-grade ingredients, and he would undoubtedly perform even better. Liwen fully demonstrated this principle. At the level of rank-four strength, he was able to act with greater ease, and that ease was built entirely upon Muri's disarray. That short blade had originally been meant to balance offense and defense in coordination with the shield, but under Liwen's onslaught, Muri had no opening to counterattack at all, forced entirely into passive defense. Yet after defending for too long, his endurance began to falter. In the end, Muri took the risk of attacking. The spear whipped straight across his arm, sending the short blade flying. Following through, the spear thrust forward, knocking aside the shield, its tip resting against Muri's neck. Muri dropped his shield and raised his hands. Liwen withdrew his spear, turned his head slightly, and said, "Next." "Phew..." Muri let out a long breath. He had originally thought he would be the first target the instructor used to regain his lost face, but clearly, the instructor hadn't taken advantage of the duel to vent. Next, the trainees went up one by one. Most of them were at the Inquisitor level, with only two still God's Shepherds. For those specializing as priests, array masters, or spellcasters, Liwen deliberately drew out the bouts to give them several hearty clashes and more chances to gain insight. For those skilled in melee, however, Liwen accelerated the pace mercilessly, defeating them in the swiftest, fiercest manner possible. Trainees like Bart and Ventura lasted even less time than Mars and Blanche. For melee fighters, the outcome of close combat was usually decided in an instant; there was no luxury of leisurely preparation, because in a team, they were the ones who would always have to stand in the front row. Karen watched and analyzed attentively throughout. Liwen had adopted the same training model used for soldiers, adding far more supplementary maneuvers and leaving plenty of leeway compared to actual combat. It was like reading an abstruse tome, but with annotations beside each passage. When Liwen fought melee trainees, Karen projected himself into the trainee's shoes, contemplating how he would handle each of Liwen's exquisite assaults in that situation. When Liwen faced non-melee trainees, Karen projected himself into Liwen's position, considering how he could maximize his own advantages when encountering similar targets in the future. Karen predicted that for a long time to come, his primary combat style would still rely on the Dark Moon Blade and the Sea God's Armor; his fighting style was actually quite similar to Liwen's. However, while immersing himself in observing and learning, Karen still had to stay vigilant from time to time. He was somewhat worried that if he became too absorbed, it might trigger the family belief system within his body. If his grandfather's phantom were summoned to stand behind him as well, that would be far too ridiculous. Yet even so, as Liwen sparred with trainee after trainee, he constantly felt a gaze locked onto him. It felt like his past days in the knight order, hunting a ravenous, ferocious beast on a mission. However, Liwen never suspected the trainees. He assumed Piro and that bunch of old fellows were observing him through some means. At last, the first round ended, with everyone defeated by Liwen. None of them were crestfallen, though. After stepping down, those who were defeated quietly replayed their previous clashes in their minds. After a period of calm, everyone suddenly realized that a new round was about to begin. Gradually, more and more eyes turned toward Karen. The instructor had stated earlier that there would be three rounds. Alright, that meant they would be beaten three times by the instructor—but by the same token, the instructor would also be beaten three times. Liwen did not shy away. Instead, he pointed directly at Karen. "Karen, your turn." Karen didn't decline either. Stepping forward, he retrieved the greatsword. This time, he didn't put on an act since his cover was already blown. Resting the greatsword on his shoulder, he walked forward, gave the blade a fluid flourish, and caught it with one hand as it fell point-down against the ground. Liwen said, "Rank one." This was a knight's oath! Karen replied, "Instructor, my true realm is Inquisitor. Please raise your strength to rank four." Bullying the instructor once was enough. For Karen, knocking down a suppressed Liwen a second time held no practical value. He wanted to learn something, discover new insights, and improve himself. To that end, he wouldn't mind being knocked down by Liwen and dirtying his clothes. Liwen shook his head. "I will not break my oath." Karen felt helpless, but quickly found a workaround. "Instructor, then I shall restrict myself as well, using only the power of a God's Servant. However, my accumulation of spiritual power runs quite deep, so my strength as a God's Servant is also..." "I understand. The moment you took the initiative to say that, I believed you. What's more, I verified your spiritual accumulation with my own hands." "Thank you, Instructor." "You're a fine lad. I like soldiers like you—clear-headed and ambitious." Liwen whipped the spear tip toward the ground, drawing a line in front of him. This was an etiquette observed in duels between knights, signifying that at this moment, Liwen regarded Karen as an equal opponent. Karen likewise used his greatsword to draw a line before him in return. "Watch closely, all of you! I know that in the last round, when I told you to adopt his perspective, you ended up having quite the spectacle, didn't you? Haha!" All the trainees present smiled self-consciously. "This time, do the same. Project yourselves into his perspective, and watch how he learns and responds. I don't want you to imitate his techniques, nor do I want you to fixate on his strength. I want you to see his thought process. Do you understand?!" "Understood, Instructor!" "Understood, Instructor!" "Here I come!" Liwen initiated the attack, while Karen adhered to his unchanging habit of opening with defense. This was Karen's fighting habit. First, because of his cautious nature and preference for control; second, because his advantages naturally shone in the mid-to-late stages of an encounter. Liwen's offense remained sharp, yet Karen's parries were exceptionally methodical. This scene made Karen feel as if he had returned to his early days in the Hound Squad, back when Mr. Gray acted as his sparring partner and taught him how to fight. Yet the instructor before him now was far more esteemed and harder to engage than Mr. Gray. Because Karen restricted his strength, many spells could not be cast. At most, he layered a few physical and speed buff spells on himself so that he wouldn't suffer due to physical conditioning deficits during their clashes. His physical constitution was average, but his spiritual power was abundant, allowing him the luxury of constantly layering shields and various attribute enhancements onto an ordinary body. Liwen did not intentionally rush for time or speed. Instead, he pulled his strikes again and again throughout the exchange. He knew Karen was well aware of how many times he had technically lost, yet the lesson continued regardless. ... "That old fogey Liwen is blatantly giving private tutoring." "Yeah, this guy is truly shameless." "When has he ever cared about shame?" "Still, looking at that kid, wouldn't anyone want to guide and polish him a bit more?" "It's just a bit unfair to the other trainees down there." "Privilege is earned. If you want special treatment, you have to possess the qualifications for it." "Has any of you looked into this batch of trainees' files? Never mind the ones from the Dinge Region, I want to know about this Karen." "Heh, I just had my secretary pull the files from the training base. Let me flip through it for you." "Good. Look up this Karen and see who his teacher is." "Huh? The file says he's an orphan." "An orphan?" "His superior is an Inquisitor—a low-ranking Inquisitor at that." "He never attended a church academy?" "No. That Ventura did, the boy who transmuted the corruptive power in his body earlier." "The surname Silva is unheard of in the church. He never attended church academy, and judging by his resume, he doesn't look like he was mentored by any master either." "Could it be that he learned everything on his own?" "How could it purely be self-taught? Who could possibly possess such incredible learning ability?" *Tap... tap...* Piro tapped his pipe, drawing everyone's attention, and then spoke quietly: "Gentlemen, have you all forgotten? In our youth, we saw someone like this." In an instant, everyone fell silent. At this moment, the secretary who had delivered the files earlier and was now pouring tea for the elders asked, "Are you speaking of the former High Priest, Lord Rasma?" Hearing this question, everyone laughed. ... Liwen experienced the very same sensation Gray once felt: he could distinctly sense Karen's progress. Karen was able to quickly grasp insights from his techniques and immediately replicate them within his swordplay to exchange moves with him. In short, it was a wondrous feeling; teaching was thoroughly satisfying, and learning was just as delightful. Even the other trainees watching from the sidelines were captivated. When they finally stopped, it was because Karen felt he had absorbed enough. All of this required proper digestion and was not suited for cramming any further, so he began disengaging and stepped back. Liwen had no intention of knocking Karen down to salvage the face lost during the first round. He naturally reeled in his spear as well, and the two separated. Karen took a deep breath, looked at Liwen standing before him, and said earnestly, "Instructor." Liwen pursed his lips and asked, "Would you like to join the knight orders?" Immediately, Liwen realized he had overlooked the Holy See's reforms, and waved a hand. "Never mind. We'll talk about it later." Karen stepped down, Muri stepped up, and the second round of instruction resumed. After the second round came the third round. Karen clashed with Liwen once more. When all three rounds concluded, Liwen tossed the spear back onto the weapon rack, clasped his hands behind his back, and faced the trainees, most of whom were bruised and battered. For a long while, he seemed unable to put together what to say before ending class. In the end, he could only force out a single line: "Class dismissed!" ... "Care to grab dinner together?" Once everyone left the seabed and returned to the shore, Muri approached Karen with an invitation. "Everyone is tired today." "True enough. Then let's get together after the training finishes. There should be some free time left." "Sure, sounds good." Returning to the floor of their quarters, Karen addressed all of his squad members before dismissing them: "Everyone, take a bath first when you get back, then eat something. When you're lying in bed tonight, think carefully about today's lesson. If you have any insights or questions, you can come discuss them with me tomorrow morning. I wake up at four, so feel free to ring the doorbell directly." "Understood, Captain." "Dismissed. Get some rest!" After entering the room, Ventura said, "Captain, I'll go draw your bath." "No need. I'll just take a shower. I don't feel like soaking today." "Alright, Captain." Ventura went to pour iced water for Karen. Karen stepped into the washroom first. After showering and coming out, he took the glass of water from Ventura and walked into his bedroom. Lying down on the bed, he picked up the book he had been reading that morning from the nightstand. He was forcing himself to break away from the "learning" state. The last thing he wanted was to faint from mental exhaustion a little later. While others suffered over their inability to immerse themselves completely in learning, he was the exact opposite—constantly worried that he wouldn't be able to disengage from complete immersion. Karen thought back to today's instructor, Liwen. He wasn't an excellent teacher, but he was certainly a competent knight. ... *Squeak.* The door was pushed open, and Liwen walked in. Inside sat six old men, some holding pipes, some holding cigars, some cradling coffee, and others holding tea. The old men appeared very calm—so calm that they might as well have hung signs on their foreheads reading: *This is the calm before the storm.* At this moment, Piro spoke up: "My dear friend Liwen, how did your class feel today? Care to share with us?" The setup had begun. Everyone was waiting for Liwen to make excuses so they could pounce. Instead, Liwen threw his arms wide open, beamed, and shouted: "I have good news for all of you: today, I got knocked flat by a God's Servant! Haha!"