First Kill, Syrio Appears (Please Follow)

Braavos, Red Door Courtyard.

The bald, bearded Water Dancer instructor Moro tossed Viserys a practice sword.

Black-haired Rhaenys and silver-haired Daenerys sat on small stools nearby, watching this trial. There were only a few wildflowers and weeds left in the garden.

Viserys and Moro had sparred many times before, but today's match was clearly more formal.

"Be fast, and make your point true! Use the sharp end to stab your enemy," Moro told Viserys. "Today, I won't go easy on you anymore."

"Alright." Viserys Targaryen, his short silver-white hair gleaming, turned sideways to face his opponent. He was not a cat, but he needed a cat's speed and agility.

Water Dancing was a dangerous game: strong as a bear, swift as a deer.

The slender swords used by Water Dancers were somewhat like fencing blades, but thinner and deadlier.

This had to do with the way of survival among Braavosi assassins: frivolous and hot-tempered.

Assassins never wore armor. They were extremists who cast aside armor and charged forward with their flesh and blood. Life and death were not so important—looking good was enough.

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Without waiting for Moro to approach, Viserys darted left. He needed to be faster.

Thrust, precise strike, then keep moving.

A smile hung on Moro's face as he strode forward, dancing with his sword.

Moro was bigger and sturdier than Viserys, and far more experienced as well.

Viserys had his own strengths. His Talent was excellent, and his own cheat was incredibly powerful, which was why he displayed the progress of a genius.

The speed and strength of Viserys's thrusts were both remarkable. He looked nothing like an apprentice receiving surprise-attack training.

The two slender swords clashed in midair, the Water Dancers' dance dangerous and swift.

Moro's rounded sword tip flickered about like a venomous snake, while Viserys dodged and counterattacked.

The two exchanged blows, point for point. Moro and Viserys were both astonishingly fast.

First, they truly possessed a certain level of skill. And Water Dancers wore ordinary clothes rather than wrapping themselves in iron cans like knights.

Silver blades collided in the air. After brief exchanges, the swordsmen launched into their next assault.

Retreat, contract, then explode with force. That was the assassin's way of the Water Dancers.

A purer form of assassination and sudden attack.

The Water Dancers' training methods were fixed, but the gap between people was still enormous.

It was like everyone studying from the same textbook: some scored seven hundred points, while others got one hundred. What mattered was each person's Talent and effort.

Crack! In the end, Viserys's rounded sword tip struck Moro in the chest and abdomen. If that tip had been pointed, Moro's torso would already have blossomed open.

"Long live Viserys! Long live Viserys!" Viserys's cheerleaders began clapping happily.

"Your trial with me is basically over, Viserys." The bald, bearded Moro tossed aside his practice sword and spoke to Viserys.

There was some sadness on Moro's face, but also pride.

Moro had sparred with Viserys step by step, witnessing with his own eyes how Viserys went from struggling to parry to handling everything with ease.

Moro had to admit that Viserys's progress was astonishingly fast. He was still young, had not trained for long, and certainly had not practiced since childhood.

"Thank you for teaching me all this time," Viserys said.

His gratitude was sincere. Although Viserys had been using cheats all along and constantly spending resources—

Moro, as an instructor, had also given Viserys every bit of help he could.

Many instructors were known for being rough and harsh, but Moro had a good temperament.

"Your training with me is over, but you must still be careful when facing armored knights. Their equipment is too sturdy. It slows them down, but it also strengthens their defenses. And compared to Water Dancers, knights focus more on strength training."

"I understand." Viserys nodded.

Knights and Water Dancers followed two different paths. Knights built muscle, while Water Dancers prized slenderness and speed.

"Keep this. It's your gift." Moro tossed Viserys a sword, a long, slender, one-handed steel sword—the kind of blade Water Dancers were best with.

By Westerosi standards, it might seem too feminine. But throughout the Free Trade Cities, such slender swords were very popular.

"Thank you." Viserys solemnly put away the sword. It represented the completion of one stage of his journey as a Water Dancer.

"What will you name this sword?" Moro asked Viserys.

"Silver Flash," Viserys said.

A shining flash of silver. Silver Flash had also been the name of one of his family's dragons long ago. However, that second-generation dragon had met a rather miserable end, killed by Balerion at God's Eye.

"A good name." Moro looked at Viserys hesitantly. "Do you want greater power?"

"Huh?" Viserys was somewhat confused. Why did that sound so strange?

It was not that he looked down on Moro, but Moro seemed to have nothing more to offer. Could he be someone who had been hiding his strength too?

"You don't need to answer me right away. Although you have entered the gates of Water Dancing, you still lack refinement before true masters."

"I see." Viserys nodded. Even though he had gotten started, he still needed a long time of hard work to reach the highest realm.

The highest realm of Water Dancing should be the Way of Insight, but swordsmen of that kind were exceedingly rare.

Ordinary Water Dancers, meanwhile, were often merely brave and combative.

"My training for you has been arduous, but it was not the harshest training. If you wish to become stronger, you must make greater sacrifices. This road is extremely difficult. Do you still wish to continue...?"

"I do," Viserys said firmly.

To gain more power, he could only push himself to the limit. It might be dangerous, but this was a dangerous world to begin with.

The food and art Viserys knew of could never protect him as well as blades could.

As long as Rhaenys and Daenerys were not the price, Viserys had the courage to face anything.

If he wanted to become great, he also needed the courage to gamble.

"Good." Moro looked at Viserys. "Rest well first. After some time, I will have you wait for me at Moon Pool."

After Moro left, Viserys continued pondering his words.

Moon Pool—Moon Pool was one of the most dangerous places in Braavos.

"Are you really going?" Rhaenys asked worriedly. Water Dancers danced on knife edges, and Viserys's risk—

"This is an opportunity too," Viserys replied.

He keenly sensed that Moro might be bringing him an opportunity. Otherwise, he would not be testing him like this.

Braavos, Moon Pool.

Moro told Viserys to wait for him at Moon Pool at midnight, but did not specify the exact time.

Still, Viserys arrived with Silver Flash at his side. One half of his short tunic was black, the other red velvet. It was indeed a rather eye-catching outfit.

Viserys also wore a silver eyepatch over his face, though that was normal enough.

In the Secret City, everyone had secrets.

Black Cat Balerion followed behind him. After thinking it over, Rhaenys still could not rest easy about him.

Is he making me draw blood? Viserys wondered.

The assassins' gazes had already begun to burn. Waving around a sharp sword at Moon Pool after midnight meant an assassin had the right to challenge another.

This time, he was not an observer. He was a combatant.

"My friend says your mask is disgusting to look at." A young assassin in a burgundy robe and yellow cloak approached Viserys.

Viserys looked at him. "Your red robe makes me feel sick too."

"Are you a swordsman?" The young assassin looked at Viserys, his hand moving toward his sword. Even a single finger resting there was a sign of an assassin's challenge. "If you take off your cloak and throw away your sword, I will forgive you."

But Viserys knew that was impossible, because the assassins would strip him naked.

"I don't want to kill you, but you really are blocking my way." Viserys sighed. He saw the young assassin beginning to draw his sword. This fight could no longer be avoided.

Viserys turned sideways, drew Silver Flash, and the onlookers automatically cleared a path for them.

"So this is the boy you were talking about? The Targaryen boy?" Syrio asked from afar.

"It's him. I think that if his Talent is good enough, he might be able to touch the Way of Insight."

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