The Swaying Blue Sky

On the last day, Sylutia told Comia and Karen they were free to do as they pleased and didn't need to follow her around anymore.

"I plan to take a walk around the edge of the village today and ask the local farmers about their crop-growing experiences."

"Are we not going to keep picking mushrooms today?"

"We've already walked through all the nearby forests; it wouldn't be safe to go any deeper." The young girl shook her head slightly. She wasn't afraid for herself, but the same couldn't be said for Comia and Karen.

"Alright then." Comia thought that made sense.

"Then Karen and I will go fishing." She quickly regained her energy.

After bidding them farewell, Sylutia stepped out carrying a small basket containing her notebooks, bread for lunch, and a small bottle of water.

Just as she had told Comia, she first asked the local villagers about their farming conditions, then crouched down to inspect the local soil with her fingers.

She remembered that on the day she arrived at Luan Tree Village, Heide had mentioned that the wheat yield here was about 60 jin per mu—meaning sowing 6 jin of seeds would produce 60 jin of wheat.

Compared to the entire Regas Kingdom, such a yield was actually quite good; it was said that in some barren regions, sowing 6 jin of wheat seeds would only yield a little over 20 jin.

Hearing this figure for the first time, Sylutia found it hard to believe, because in her memories, wheat yields were easily hundreds of jin per mu, and there were even cases of a thousand jin.

As she chatted and inquired with the local villagers, the situation gradually became clear.

A lack of fertilization, the necessity of fallowing and crop rotation, insufficient irrigation, poor seed varieties, and pests and diseases were the factors directly leading to the low yields.

It seemed there was a long way to go to improve grain production. She briefly organized her thoughts: she would need to make the villagers aware of and accustomed to using fertilizer, building irrigation canals, adopting superior seeds, and practicing pest control before the current situation could be fully turned around.

These were not things that could be accomplished in a day or two, so she could only make a note of them for now and try to address them when she had more resources in the future.

After understanding these things and satisfying her curiosity, Sylutia carried her basket to the woods not far from the village edge.

The sun was bright today, and the grass was dry and refreshing. She set down her basket, picked up a wooden branch, and practiced the swordsmanship she hadn't touched for several days.

Starting with Basic Swordsmanship, she recalled what she had seen during the competition and her own summaries. Her movements were more refined and fluid in certain details, allowing her strength and technique to reach a marvelous balance.

(Basic Swordsmanship proficiency +2, Basic Swordsmanship Lv.4, progress 856/1200)

Her swordsmanship was currently reaching a bottleneck; it was only after watching the competition that she had achieved a breakthrough, otherwise, it would have been difficult to improve through training alone.

Should I go for a walk in the forest? she thought, looking at the wooden stick in her hand, then shook her head.

She would need at least a real weapon. She wasn't sure if there was enough time to go back and get her sword. Just as Sylutia was packing her things to return, the faint sound of leaves from the distant woods made her look up. Her eyes blinked, and she quickly spotted a boy walking while leaning against the trees on the far hillside.

It was Mick. She recognized the boy with the fierce-looking corners of his eyes.

He seemed to be injured; one of his legs was giving him trouble.

After a moment's consideration, Sylutia picked up her basket and walked over.

Huff, huff. Mick panted again, glancing at the village at the foot of the hill not far away. His miserable state eased slightly.

Almost there, he whispered to himself, then struggled to move his agonizingly painful left foot again.

Most of the students hadn't gone up the mountain today, but he had come anyway, just to find more prey and save up money to pay back Jero.

Since he started studying under Heide, he had almost no income, and the money he had saved was nearly gone. If not for Jero's financial support, he probably wouldn't have been able to continue his studies.

I'm sorry, Jero. I didn't place in the competition.

If he had placed in the last trial, he could have received the reward provided by the Viscount. A piece of equipment like that could sell for a gold coin on the market, enough to pay off his debt to Jero all at once.

Money was important—very important—especially for the poor and the commoners.

Often, when people were injured or sick, it wasn't that they couldn't be cured, but that they had no money to buy medicine or see a physician, or they had fallen ill because they had no money and had to eat low-quality, spoiled food.

He had to become a powerful adventurer so he could earn a lot of money.

The profession of an adventurer was truly wonderful; in one month, one could earn the equivalent of half a year or even a year's income from a regular job. Mick had always dreamed of becoming a great adventurer like Jero.

However, compared to those seasoned adventurers, Mick was still too green. The smooth hunting of the past two days had given him a fair amount of confidence, but he hadn't expected an accident to happen today.

While chasing a fox, he had stepped into thin air and slid down a slope. Although he reacted quickly and tried to adjust his posture, he still stepped into a crevice between rocks hidden by fallen leaves. The weight of his body caused his left foot to twist, and it might even be fractured.

The mountains were not that safe. If a person couldn't save themselves, they might never walk out.

Leaning against a mossy tree trunk, he forced his right foot up, took another step, and dragged his painful left foot forward. Beads of sweat the size of peas rolled down, and his palms were scratched by the tree bark.

One step, then another. He was almost at the village. He kept cheering himself on.

Perhaps it was exhaustion, or perhaps his vision was blurring, but he didn't pay attention for a moment and his right foot struck a rock on the ground. He fell again, his arm slamming against the sharp edge of a stone, leaving a stinging wound.

At least my head is fine. He lay on the ground, panting for a moment, then forced himself up again and slowly moved forward.

Trying not to think about how long it would take to arrive, Mick had only the thought of reaching the village to support him as he kept moving.

Thus, until the dizzying sweat obscured his forehead and cheeks, he saw a figure in a black dress with black hair before him.

Who is this... His consciousness was already fading.

Sylutia looked at the boy who had collapsed before her and bent down with concern to check on him.

It looks like heatstroke, and he has an injury on his foot as well.

The autumn of the Rising Wind Season still held the sweltering heat of midsummer. It had rained a few days ago, which was fine, but it had turned hot again over the last two days. Sylutia recalled the local climate and took the small bottle of water out of her basket.

The water was stored in a clay bottle, prepared by Karen that morning; she hadn't touched it yet. Sylutia pulled the stopper and poured the water for the unconscious youth on the ground, then dragged him into the shade of a tree to settle him down.

About ten minutes later, Mick slowly stirred, his consciousness gradually returning.

He looked around, then gazed at the young girl sitting in the shade nearby reading a book, finally realizing that he had just passed out.

"Thank you," his voice was weak and listless.

"It's nothing, though you aren't in a good state right now." Sylutia walked over and once again brought her hand near the youth's forehead.

It was warm and feverish; she couldn't tell if it was a fever or the lingering heat of heatstroke.

It is said that during the Rising Wind Season, prolonged exposure to the scorching sun makes it easy for the "Blazing Sun" Aspect Power to cause body temperatures to rise and stay high, eventually leading to death by fever.

However, it was now the ninth year of the Rising Wind Season, and the "Blazing Sun" Aspect Power was weakening; the season's most perilous, peak intensity had already passed.

Sylutia blinked, checking the youth's status once more.

Name: Mick
Race: Human (Mortal Body)
Status: Healthy (Injured, Bone Fracture, Heatstroke)
Talent: Vital Blood [Good Grade]: The pulse of the blood is active, making it easier to perceive and practice abilities related to the "Blood Law."
Fate Card: [Mountain Youth] (Rank: None) 'A child of the mountains, nimble of limb and wild of spirit.'
Ability Card: [Breathing Technique Lv.2] [Empty] [Empty]
Skills: [Basic Swordsmanship Lv.3] [Wilderness Survival Lv.1]

It's a relief it isn't a sickness-induced fever, just heatstroke, Sylutia thought, lowering her hand.

Feeling the cool, soft palm against his forehead at such close range, and catching the faint floral scent wafting from the girl, Mick was momentarily stunned. For the first time, his mind and body were immersed in something other than hunting, earning money, or training.

Watching the girl stand up and walk away, he even felt a fleeting sense of regret and reluctance, wondering if he had been more severely ill, would she have stayed by his side a little longer?

This bizarre thought was quickly dismissed by his remaining reason, yet he was still surprised by his own fragility and heartbeat.

He had never felt this way even when facing that dazzling blonde noble lady among the students. Could a person really become emotionally fragile after being injured? His head, already hot from heatstroke, felt somewhat dizzy.

"I can't carry you by myself. Could you wait here for a while?" Sylutia's soft voice struck the depths of his heart once again.

"I... I'm fine..." The last shred of his masculine pride made him feel he shouldn't appear weak in front of this girl.

"Then wait just a moment. I've checked the surroundings and no other animals are coming by; I'll go call for help immediately." Sylutia bent down to reassure him once more, then straightened up and trotted down the mountain.

With dimming vision, he watched that figure descend the slope until she vanished from sight. Unable to hold on any longer, Mick's weary eyelids finally closed, and he drifted off to sleep.

Half an hour later, Solin and the others, guided by Sylutia, arrived on the mountain and found the unconscious Mick. Each person took a limb, lifting him up.

The bumps and swaying along the way caused Mick to open his eyes again. Seeing him wake up, the people around him teased.

"Heh, you can consider yourself lucky. If Sylutia hadn't found you, we might not have come out to look for you until nightfall."

"Got into trouble acting alone, didn't you?"

"A lone wolf won't cut it, you idiot."

"I..." Mick wanted to explain something, but he didn't have much strength at the moment.

He opened his eyes to look at the azure sky, his body swaying like a small boat without an anchor. He was physically exhausted, a situation that should have been exceptionally miserable, yet the teasing voices in his ears and the arms carrying him brought him a faint sense of peace and gratitude.

Everything, it seemed, wasn't so bad after all.