Knight, Mortal Tier, and Transcendent Rank

Jinnie didn't say anything more. She simply finished treating his fresh wounds, instructed Tales to rest well, and promised that tomorrow she would make his life "return to normal," before leaving his room.

But that night, Tales still couldn't sleep soundly.

The past few days had been far too twisted and bizarre.

The heart-pounding danger of Red Quarter, the spine-chilling secrets of Mindis Hall, the desperate struggle for survival at Weed Manor—all of it had left him, with his overworked mind, utterly exhausted.

Worse still, even at this point, Tales still couldn't get used to the soft bed beneath him. It was as if his past life's ability to "fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow" had vanished without a trace.

Sighing, Tales rolled his eyes.

After flipping over like a pancake countless times, he habitually slid off the bed, crept to his "designated spot" in the corner, and curled up to lie down.

Hard surfaces really suit me better, Tales licked his lips.

Two days ago at this time, he'd still been worrying about the survival and safety of the other five beggar kids in the Ruined House, brewing his grand escape plan.

In the life of upheaval that followed, he'd been like a rootless weed in a gale, fighting tooth and nail in this world full of malice and misfortune, using every trick he had, just to survive.

All I want is to live, plain and simple.

But with this identity—Tales looked toward the fireplace, where in the dim inner chamber a massive Nine-Point Star Pattern was faintly visible.

Words like "live well" or "be a free man"—Tales let out a deep sigh—were probably just wishful thinking.

And on top of that...

Tales stared blankly, raising his right hand. In the moonlight, he looked at a scratch covered by bandages.

*What exactly—*Tales recalled in his mind the explosion and flash of light the moment he'd unlocked Rolf's shackles—was that power?

And that loli vampire—just thinking about her mummified form and the two nearly invisible round holes on his neck sent a chill down his spine.

Now, Tales was also certain that the past-life memories flashing unbidden through his mind weren't just Fragments. What kind of memories could sustain him, letting him burst forth with extraordinary energy and willpower at the most dangerous moments, time and again?

Five years into his transmigration, Tales discovered with disappointment that his confusion and bewilderment about this world hadn't diminished—they'd only grown.

Tales was still woken up in bed, buried under the covers. In his sleep, he had no idea who had stuffed him back in.

But the atmosphere today was clearly different.

First, the person who came to wake him was Jinnie. She patiently explained to the flustered Tales how noble clothing should be worn. Second, his breakfast had changed from bread and beef to delicious cake and milk. The guards in the hall bustled back and forth, carrying in items that had clearly been delivered just that morning.

Until Gilbert appeared with a serious expression and informed him that Tales's custom-tailored private lessons would start at nine in the morning and last until nine at night.

This truly made Tales feel that his daily life had completely changed. Because even the very first lesson of the morning covered content he had never encountered before.

"After the events of these past few days, through careful deliberation and meticulous selection, Young Master Tales..."

After breakfast, Tales was led by Jinnie to the backyard of Mindis Hall. On a cleared patch of ground covered in soft sand, Gilbert Carso, leaning on his ornate walking cane, stood before a dazzling array of weapon racks, sword targets, archery targets, sandbags, hitching posts, and a young pony, and informed him solemnly:

"We believe you urgently need basic training in combat skills and self-defense techniques. And a child raised by Lord Mann's side should naturally be versed in horsemanship and basic swordsmanship."

"Rest assured, we—mainly Lady Jinnie—will ensure the training doesn't aggravate your existing injuries."

What?

Tales took a deep breath, then watched in surprise as Jinnie stepped forward and said coolly:

"Don't be surprised, child. Morning is the best time for physical training. Since you are the future heir of Star Kingdom, you naturally need a body capable of bearing that burden."

"And I will see to it."

Tales looked at Jinnie, whose figure was mature under the morning sun, at her elegant Court Official attire, at the empty surroundings, and scratched his head.

"Why isn't Yordel teaching me? He seems really skilled." The boy recalled the secret guard's swift movements as he darted through the city.

"You expect a peak Extreme Realm expert, of whom there are only a handful in the entire kingdom, to teach a beginner the most basic things?" Gilbert took over the conversation, clasping his hands behind his back. "And please believe me, Yordel's methods don't suit your identity or characteristics."

Tales nodded, half-understanding. "What's Extreme Realm?"

Just then, Jinnie clapped her hands, walked to the center of the training ground, and crooked her finger at Tales:

"Gilbert will explain that theoretical knowledge to you during training."

"Now, attack me with all your might! I need to assess your current foundation."

Tales stared dumbly at Jinnie, standing in the middle of the field with her hands behind her back, until she urged him again.

Alright, training and leveling up—isn't that what the seniors love most? Tales finally let out a breath. After a moment's thought, he decided not to draw his dagger.

The next second, with the street-smart agility of a qualified beggar kid, Tales charged at Jinnie.

"Combat—this is the oldest and most enduring art in human history."

Without even moving her supporting foot, Jinnie deftly tripped the overeager Tales.

"Thud!"

And Gilbert slowly began his lecture:

"Human history is a history of constant struggle—against other races, and against ourselves."

"Thousands of years ago, in the fight to secure the right to survive in this world, humans gradually summarized and refined the techniques and principles of armed or unarmed combat."

Tales was tripped a second time, landing face-first in the training ground.

"Compared to other races, humans—whose physical bodies are far inferior—rely on mastering these techniques and skills to overcome the strong with the weak, the many with the few, and the large with the small."

"Long after, among those warriors who had mastered superior combat skills, a portion awakened within themselves powers that even humanity could scarcely imagine."

"These powers gave humans choices beyond 'struggling' and 'resisting' in the world. Different powers granted them different advantages, from transcendent speed to agile reflexes, keen insight, and extraordinary strength—too many to list."

This time, Tales nimbly dodged Jinnie's leg sweep, cleverly grabbing hold of her high boot, only to be kicked down again by her deftly applied force.

"These humans, a cut above the rest, rode scarce warhorses with these powers, leading skilled warriors into a perilous world."

"These were the earliest 'Knights,'" Gilbert let out a deep sigh, watching the disheveled Tales fall to the ground for the fourth time, and continued: "And the powers they awakened were collectively called 'Transcendent Power.'"

"In the present day, after the Ending War, people—especially swordsmen—prefer to call it 'Ending Power.'"

"It was precisely because of the emergence of 'Transcendent Power' that the world first had a division of strength: for those warriors who flexibly applied combat techniques and excelled in battle, we customarily call them 'Mortal Tier.'"

"And those masters who have grasped Transcendent Power or its equivalent, who are meticulous in control and observation, and adept in combat and slaughter, have surpassed the realm of mortals—so—" At this point, a sharp glint shone in Gilbert's eyes:

"We call them: 'Transcendent Rank.'"

"Enough!"

Jinnie raised her left hand, stopping the reluctant Tales, who wanted to charge again, and pushed him down onto the sand ground.

"Quick-witted, good at dodging, and knows how to maximize force—just the body hasn't grown yet. I know what to teach him." Jinnie exhaled, turned around, and pulled two wooden sword-and-shield sets from the weapon rack, tossing the smaller one to the flustered Tales.

So heavy.

Tales struggled to right the shield, imitating Jinnie as he fastened it to his left arm with the leather strap on the back, but soon found the posture put immense strain on that side's shoulder and arm.

Tales grabbed the wooden sword with his right hand. Good grief, compared to the JC Dagger, this wooden sword was as heavy as the water vat in the Ruined House!

"Turn your body sideways, left foot forward, right foot back! Center your weight between your legs—shift it back when defending or absorbing impact, lean forward when attacking!"

"Raise your shield, aim it at your enemy! Use it as your center to guard your chest—don't block your eyes!" Jinnie's voice suddenly turned cold and strict: "No matter what, keep your left hand's shield high!"

"There are only two times you can lower it: when you die, or when the enemy dies!"

Tales lifted his left arm with effort, and soon a soreness set in.

"Swing your right arm, treat the sword as your second forearm, use the weight of your shield and front body center, and whip it like a lash!"

Already panting from exhaustion, Tales wobbled as he raised the sword in his right hand, struggling to swing it left and right, hearing Gilbert's words:

"Ah-ha, the time-honored Northern Military Swordsmanship." At this moment, the Earl of Caso's voice was filled with nostalgia and reverence:

"In the bards' verses, it is the last weapon of mortals, the stalwart body of Knights, the icy barrier of the north, and the bane of Orcs on the battlefield."

His next words made Tales' eyes widen:

"Of course, it is also the origin sword of Transcendent Power."