Red Beard Adventurer Party

The morning sunlight filtered gently through the sparse shadows of the trees in the inn's back courtyard, spilling across a level patch of cleared earth.

The air carried the fresh scent of grass and leaves, stable hay, and the faintly burnt aroma of dark bread drifting from the distant kitchen.

At the center of the open ground, two figures were engaged in what was less a spar than a one-sided instructional match.

One of them was Dak.

He gripped a short iron sword suited to his size, fine sweat covering his forehead as his breathing grew somewhat labored.

Yet his eyes, fixed on Cui Ciyou, were filled with undisguised excitement and near-fanatical admiration.

If I can't become a hero, then becoming someone who helps another person become a hero wouldn't be so bad either.

He did his utmost to execute the basic Sword God Style techniques—seemingly plain blocks, deceptive thrusts, and unexpected side slashes.

Though his movements were somewhat immature due to his lack of experience and strength, every strike was delivered with utmost seriousness.

His opponent was Cui Ciyou, a tall black-haired young man with an indifferent expression.

He held an ordinary iron sword as well, yet he scarcely attacked at all and rarely even moved his feet.

Spiritual power—Perception—activate!

In Cui Ciyou's eyes, all the colors in the world instantly faded away.

It became a cold, three-dimensional black-and-white world constructed from countless flickering white points of light and intricate, intersecting black lines of energy.

Dak's fierce attacks, whose speed and strength had already far surpassed those of ordinary boys his age in Cui Ciyou's eyes—

Within this strange Perception, however, they seemed to have slowed severalfold, becoming extraordinarily sluggish.

The instant Dak made a move, Cui Ciyou could always clearly sense every possible follow-up intention and the trajectory of his sword.

In this nearly "omniscient" state of Perception, Cui Ciyou did not even need to use much physical strength to effortlessly and almost perfunctorily neutralize all of Dak's attacks:

Sometimes, he merely flicked his wrist and precisely knocked aside Dak's blade with the flat of his own sword;

Sometimes, he shifted slightly like a ghost, causing Dak's powerful chops to miss;

In the end, he only needed to gently guide Dak's sword aside, then, when Dak's old force had been exhausted and his new force had yet to arise, use a clever Sword God Style redirection technique to effortlessly dissolve his attack.

Throughout the entire spar, Cui Ciyou remained calm and composed, as though he were merely playing with an energetic child.

He had not used any Battle Aura, the power warriors of this world relied on to survive—nor could he use it at all.

Even the terrifying physical strength of his body, enhanced by mysterious power, had revealed only the tip of the iceberg—just enough to handle the situation.

What he mainly relied on now was reaction speed beyond ordinary imagination, the Perception world constructed by his mind, and an almost instinctive grasp of timing and distance.

Combined with several basic Sword God Style concepts and force-redirection techniques he had learned from Dak over the past few days, dealing with attacks at Dak's level was indeed more than easy enough.

Clang!

Once again, Dak tried to launch a swift thrust, but before the sword tip could approach Cui Ciyou's body, Cui Ciyou casually knocked it downward with the pommel of his sword.

A vast force far beyond Dak's imagination surged through the blade in an instant. It numbed his wrist and sent searing pain through the web between his thumb and forefinger. The iron sword flew from his hand and landed several meters away with a clang.

"Whew... whew..."

Dak came to a powerless halt, bracing himself on his knees as he gasped for breath, sweat soaking his bangs. His eyes as he looked at Cui Ciyou shone brilliantly, filled with undisguised fanatical admiration.

"Mr. Ciyou," he said, stubbornly using the honorific, "you're... you're incredible! You're ridiculously strong!"

"I feel like my sword can't touch you at all! You're too fast! It's just... it's just like the legendary Sword God!"

"No! Someday, you'll definitely become even stronger than the Sword God!"

Cui Ciyou gave him a calm glance without speaking, then silently lowered his iron sword.

He neither affirmed nor denied the enthusiastic flattery of a boy like Dak. He merely found it... somewhat boring.

A spar at this level did not even count as a warm-up for him.

If not for the practical knowledge of Sword God Style swordsmanship he could learn from Dak, he likely would not have had the patience to indulge in this sort of "game" at all.

Carl, the guard captain who had silently watched this "instructional match" from the edge of the clearing, wore an extremely complicated expression now, full of shock and a trace of deep wariness.

She looked at her son, whose face was flushed red from excitement and exhaustion, then at the black-haired young man whose expression remained placid and whose breathing had not been disrupted in the slightest. Her heart was filled with indescribable astonishment.

Of course, she could tell that Cui Ciyou had not used his full strength. He might not even have shown a tenth of it.

Those seemingly casual blocks and evasions were not some profound technique at all, but purely overwhelming physical instinct and reaction speed.

Dak's "basic Sword God Style sword techniques," which already looked fairly decent in her eyes, were nothing more than the play of a three-year-old before him!

Dak was already an intermediate Sword God Style swordsman, and his talent was considered quite good. After all, in the original story, even the fifteen- or sixteen-year-old noble Luke was only an intermediate Sword God Style practitioner.

Carl had no doubt that if Cui Ciyou wished, he could use that ordinary iron sword to kill her son as easily as crushing an insect in an instant!

Mr. Ciyou's strength... just how terrifyingly powerful was it?

If... he could remain in my party forever, how wonderful would that be?

"Dak... you little brat... your footwork is still a complete mess, and your timing when you strike is terrible. It's simply awful."

"When we get back, practice your basic swings one thousand times! No food until you finish!"

Carl first forcibly suppressed her shock and unease, then turned to sternly scold her son, who was immersed in admiration, doing her best to maintain the image of a strict parent.

However, Cui Ciyou watched as Dak, the moment Carl turned away, immediately made a comical face at her back.

He secretly sighed with amusement.

Your precious son... doesn't seem all that afraid of you, does he, Captain Carl?

Only then did Carl turn around and walk over to Cui Ciyou.

"Mr. Ciyou, your skill just now... truly... left me, Carl, utterly astounded!"

"Although... well... forgive my bluntness, but the style of your swordsmanship is somewhat... unique and strange. Aside from a slight trace of the Sword God Style—"

"I cannot tell which of the three great styles it belongs to."

"But this level of strength is absolutely the greatest I, Carl, have ever seen in my life. It is even stronger than some kingdom swordsmen I was fortunate enough to glimpse from afar."

Why not just say I don't know any swordsmanship at all and am simply using physical strength to bully a child? Why be so tactful?

And didn't I use some Sword God Style—Kiba Style—techniques too?

Just not very many.

Cui Ciyou inwardly complained again in helplessness.

Carl paused, her expression becoming even more earnest and solemn before she spoke again.

"Mr. Ciyou, I, Carl, once again... and sincerely, on behalf of our Red Beard Adventurer Party—"

"Please join our adventurer party."