The Shift Between Offense and Defense

When you first learn the Quen Sign, your shield may be weak because you are not familiar with the sign.

But now, with Vesemir's strength, even if Ailin stood there and let him slash at him, it would take at least four or five hits to break his shield.

certainly.

It also took Ailin two or three attacks to break through Vesemir's Quen Shield.

After all, this hand seal is designed to defend against the monstrous strength of giant beasts. If a demon hunter, whose strength is far inferior to that of a giant beast, can break it, then what's the point of playing?

Therefore, even when fighting with real swords, the Witcher can ensure his own safety.

"Could it be to test my control over power?"

If you don't understand, just ask.

"Why not just use a real sword?" Ailin asked curiously.

Vesemir paused for a moment, then rolled his eyes in annoyance:

"You use the Divine Sword Balmor, and I use an ordinary steel sword?"

"How can we compete like this?"

The Witcher remained silent for a few seconds upon hearing this.

That's true.

I almost forgot that Vesemir only exchanged it for a silver sword; the steel sword was just an ordinary one.

As for the steel sword that Ailin had traded for Balmor, it was bought back by the House Kuhn's merchant ship for a discount of two hundred Oren.

But to be honest, Ailin has never tried Balmor before...

"Don't worry, I noticed it as soon as I got here..." Vesemir waved his wooden stick, making a "whooshing" sound as it cut through the air. "Behind the library, this whole area is covered with red pines, and they are all old red pines."

"This is one of the hardest types of wood in the Northern Continent."

"So feel free to use all your strength. These two sticks aren't that easy to break."

"Of course..." Vesemir slightly bent his thumb and forefinger, drawing a triangle in front of him, a flash of pale golden light passing by. "No matter what the battle, you must release it first..."

"Quen Sign..."

Ailin answered skillfully, then withdrew his right hand, which had been releasing the hand seal, and gripped the staff.

A golden light, even more dazzling than that emanating from Vesemir, flashed across his body.

Seeing that the Witcher didn't reach for the potion pouch, Vesemir asked curiously, "Weren't you going to try out your new potion?"

"No rush..." Ailin twisted his right wrist, performing a sword flourish, "Let's try out my sword first."

Then, with a thought, he gave the Witcher Master an appraisal.

Name: Vesemir

[Attributes: Strength 53, Agility 57, Constitution 69, Perception 70, Mysticism 42]

Then I opened the character panel.

Name: Ailin

[Attributes: Strength 51, Agility 42, Constitution 58, Perception 47, Mysticism 59]

Of course, you can't use [Demon Hunter] when dueling with Vesemir.

However, the difference in this attribute...

Maybe we can win!

Ailin thought to himself, "But I'll have to use some tricks."

"Let's try the sword first..." Vesemir clicked his tongue when he heard Ailin's words.

He accurately grasped the implied... no... almost explicit arrogance in those words.

My apprentice thinks that he's only been down the mountain for less than six months, yet he can defeat me...

The Witcher Master narrowed his dark golden Cat Eyes, staring at Ailin like a wolf pack alpha eyeing a daring challenger.

Although Vesemir had to admit that he was indeed inferior to Ailin in some aspects when it came to hunting monsters.

but...

But!

He is not a monster, nor is he one of those stupid creatures that only howl and attack on instinct.

Since his training in the mountains over a hundred years ago, he has experienced more battles in his life Ailin has eaten salt.

The blood of the demons and bandits who died by his sword was enough to flood the entire Ancient Sea Fortress.

The corpses could pile up into mountains.

What gave Ailin the courage to believe that she could defeat him without using any strange or unusual potions...?

No...

Even if I use it, I'll still win in the end!

It must be!

"Then let's give it a try!"

The four simple words were filled with murderous intent, and Ailin's keen senses made his hair stand on end, causing him to put away the panel.

His gaze was fixed on the Witcher Master, whose eyes gleamed with menace.

He loosened his grip and quietly let out a long breath.

Their gazes met as if sparks were about to fly.

Just then.

The wind stopped.

A few dark green pine needles fell from the azure sky, landing in the instant when the eyes of the two witchers met.

"Bang!"

The air between the two was suddenly compressed into a gale, blowing the pine needles into the sky at several times the speed.

After a clear impact, came a continuous three-strike sequence.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Ailin and Vesemir were like mirror images, their attacking and swinging stances were extremely similar.

The difference in the points where the two sticks were hit was less than one millimeter.

Then came an extremely similar retreat, spin, and slash!

"Bang!"

Then came another spinning slash.

The tender green grass on the ground was crushed and sap was squeezed out by the fierce battle between the two.

This went on for four rounds.

Both players used almost identical footwork, swing angles, and attack positions.

It seems like there will never be a clear winner.

But is that really the case?

At least Ailin didn't think so, because he could sense Vesemir...

It's gradually picking up speed!

He swung the stick faster and faster, and his footwork became increasingly close.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Gradually, the solemn and expressionless Witcher Master, like the majestic Blue Mountain, slowly, steadily, and irresistibly crushed him bit by bit.

This overwhelming and powerful aura was something I had never experienced when hunting with Vesemir before.

"This can't go on!" Ailin swung his hand back forcefully, blocking the Witcher Master's fierce attack.

"The difference of a dozen or so points in agility, physique, and perception is still too great..."

Despite having the same strength, the high speed of the slashes brought by the high agility made it difficult for Ailin to defend against.

The gap in perception not only prevented him from finding opportunities to retaliate, but also meant that he was attacked at his weakest point almost every moment.

At this rate, he will undoubtedly lose before five more rounds are needed.

We must find another way!

Thinking this, Ailin glanced at Vesemir's spinning movements.

Then, pretending to do as before, he used all his strength to split Vesemir's stick in two.

Take a step back naturally.

Immediately afterwards, the muscles in his right calf suddenly tensed up, and his right foot stomped down hard, the enormous force sending the dark soil and grass flying backward.

But it happened quietly.

It was as if all the power had been absorbed by the soil and Ailin's body.

at the same time,

This enormous reaction force also allowed Ailin to rapidly close the distance to Vesemir within two steps.

The tip of the staff was aimed straight at the Witcher Master's heart.

Suddenly, Ailin was so close that he could see the Witcher Master. His dark golden pupils, like those of a cheetah, widened slightly, as if surprised by the sudden change in his movements.

But then...

Vesemir calmly withdrew his staff, intending to block the blow with nonchalant ease.

"Too hasty!" he thought to himself.

Then, looking at the young Witcher's chest, Vesemir knew that as long as he could block this attack...

With his defenses wide open, Ailin was instead struck in the heart by the rebounding long stick.

but.

The next moment.

When Vesemir's staff reached its position.

Now... Ailin held his breath, his azure Cat Eyes widened suddenly, and his right wrist, holding the sword, trembled.

The tip of the staff, which was aimed lightly at the Witcher Master's heart, feinted like a gazelle leaping over a cliff, almost grazing the staff that Vesemir was straightening in front of his chest, and quietly changed direction.

Wrist stab!

This is an advanced technique unlocked after reaching LV5 with the School of the Cat Two-Handed Sword.

Because he usually deals with all kinds of monsters, this was the first time he had used it in actual combat since he obtained it.

The tip of the long stick pierced the air, heading straight for Vesemir's protruding Adam's apple.

We won!

A slight smile appeared on Ailin's lips.

But what happened next was unexpected.

Vesemir's body suddenly grew two centimeters taller, like a bamboo shoot.

"Ah!"

Amid Ailin's gasp, the tip of the staff pierced the collar of the Wolf School Master Set.

The power of the staff was greatly weakened by the wrist thrust, and it involuntarily got stuck in the steel chainmail rings.

Neither can advance nor retreat.

The Quen Sign on Vesemir's body only flashed briefly, barely perceptible.

Not good!

Ailin realized something was wrong, but it was too late.

With a twist of his wrist, Vesemir thrust again, striking the leather armor on his chest with great force.

The golden light flashed intensely.

"I lost!" Ailin wasn't one to back down, and he admitted defeat readily.

However, there were some things he didn't understand.

How did Vesemir suddenly think of jumping up a little bit?

This is not as simple as suddenly raising your toes.

On the one hand, it comes suddenly; the sudden change in the tip of the stick and the impact may take less than one-tenth of a second.

It takes time for the victim to react, time to come up with a solution, and even time to manipulate their body to react.

These three factors combined make it almost impossible for this tiny movement to occur.

unless...

"Why did you have to learn those scumbags from the School of the Cat?!"

Vesemir frowned.

The wooden stick was forcefully tapped on Ailin's chest.

The Quen Shield flickered again.

The Witcher Master seemed quite displeased that he didn't use the orthodox two-handed swordsmanship of the School of the Wolf, but instead resorted to the dirty School of the Cat swordsmanship.

No!

It's not just dissatisfaction, it's more than that!

It was utter disgust and loathing, as if Ailin had just crawled out of a cesspool.

Vesemir genuinely disliked the School of the Cat...

Ailin confirmed this truth once again, and then asked curiously:

"Master Vesemir, what just happened..."

"Didn't I tell you?" Vesemir retracted the stick and stuck it into the ground. "I almost died at the hands of a piece of trash from the School of the Cat."

"So for those few years I was thinking about how to deal with their despicable swordsmanship."

As he emphasized the word "despicable," Vesemir looked at Ailin with a disappointed expression.

"This... can't be that bad..." Ailin, unaccustomed to being looked at like trash by Witcher Master, changed the subject:

"And then you figured it out?"

Vesemir nodded, and said with a hint of disdain:

"The dregs of the School of the Cat, who derived their so-called advanced techniques from the school's swordsmanship, mostly use flashy tricks."

"But they all end up the same way: sacrificing strength and speed to deceive the opponent's eyes and limbs."

"Therefore, this kind of shameless swordsmanship is very effective against unsuspecting ordinary people."

"But when faced with a monster blessed by magic, a prepared witch hunter, and a well-equipped knight, he'll become a court jester..."

Before he could finish speaking...

Ailin couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

The School of the Cat is practically extinct, yet they still use profanity in every sentence, relentlessly mocking its dead body...

Vesemir's resentment towards the cat-faction witchers runs deep!

"... Just like that sword strike you just made..." the Witcher Master continued to criticize, "Anyone could easily dodge it if they reacted in time."

"If it weren't for the fact that the power in your stick was weakened so much..."

Vesemir pointed to the spot on the chainmail where Ailin had just stabbed him.

"Your thrust definitely won't have blocked it. If you had used a real sword, there would have been a good chance of seriously injuring your opponent, or at least preventing them from counterattacking..."

But without this technique, I wouldn't even have a chance to hit it...

The Witcher muttered to himself.

It can only be said that Vesemir truly deserves to be the youngest Witcher Master besides him.

Their strength is indeed formidable.

The Witcher Master continued to berate Ailin's School of the Cat techniques for a while, until the sun was high in the sky and faint noises came from the library.

He seemed to suddenly remember something, glanced at the sky, and said:

"Are you still going to test the potion's effects? It's getting late, hurry up!"

Ailin finally breathed a sigh of relief, freeing his ears.

Clang~

With a soft clinking of glass crystal bottles, the Witcher, under Vesemir's curious gaze, took out two bottles of potions, one red and one blue.

Without hesitation, he gulped it down in two gulps.

Not a second later.

Ailin's temples bulged slightly, and deep blue veins protruded and spread outward from his eyes, followed by the whites of his eyes slowly turning icy blue.

However, Vesemir didn't make a fuss like Lyra. Instead, he watched Ailin's changes with great interest, sensing the subtle shifts in his aura and strength.

This is understandable, since the School of the Wolf originally had a potion called "Witcher Potion".

The effects of that medicine were truly exaggerated.

His face was pale.

The pupils and whites of the eyes turned completely black, like a demon.

Its entire body was covered with black veins that bulged out like a centipede.

Compared to that, Ailin looks quite innocent and refreshing.

"What are the effects of these two potions?" Vesemir asked curiously.

Ailin put the empty bottle down, wiped his mouth with his right hand, and gave the Witcher Master a slightly provocative glance:

Why don't you try and see?

Vesemir paused for a moment, chuckled, and shook his head helplessly.

He took two steps back and pulled the wooden stick out of the ground.

He casually swung the stick twice to shake off the dirt from the tip.

Immediately following.

Without giving any warning, he stepped onto the ground, spun around, and swung his sword fiercely at Ailin's head.

"Phew~"

The stick tore through the air, making a whooshing sound.

The Witcher Master's voice reached the young Witcher's ears only when the staff was half a meter away. "Then give it a try!"

"Bang!"

A soft sound.

Pale golden light shimmered and flickered on the deep red leather armor.

"Um?"

The Witcher Master stared blankly at the empty meadow before him, and at his own empty hands.

"Phew~"

"Laugh!"

A wooden stick was stuck diagonally into the soil...