Red Beard Adventurer Party

The morning sunlight gently pierced through the sparse tree shadows in the post station's backyard, scattering across a cleared and leveled patch of mud.

The air mixed the freshness of grass and trees, the scent of stable hay, and the faint, burnt aroma of black bread drifting from the distant kitchen.

In the center of the open space, two figures were engaged in a "spar" that felt less like a mutual exchange and more like a one-sided tutoring session.

One side was Dak.

He gripped a suitably sized short iron sword tightly, his brow covered in fine sweat, and his breathing slightly rapid.

Yet the look he cast toward Cui Ciyou was filled with unmasked excitement and near-fanatic worship.

If I cannot become a hero, then becoming someone who assists others in becoming a hero... that is not bad either.

He diligently executed basic North God Style sword strikes—seemingly unpretentious parries, thrusts concealing mysteries, and unexpected sideways slashes.

Though his movements were slightly raw due to a lack of experience and strength, every single strike was executed with intense earnestness and effort.

His opponent, meanwhile, was a tall, expressionless black-haired youth—Cui Ciyou.

He also held an ordinary iron sword in his hand, yet he launched almost no active attacks and rarely even moved his feet.

Mental Power—Perception—Activate!

In Cui Ciyou's eyes, the colorful world instantly shed all variegated hues.

It transformed into a cold, 3D black-and-white stereoscopic world constructed from countless flashing white points of light and complex, intersecting black energy line segments.

Dak's fierce attacks, which in the youth's own view far exceeded ordinary peers in both speed and power, appeared multiplied times slower in this strange "Perception" field, becoming exceptionally sluggish.

Cui Ciyou could always clearly perceive all of his subsequent, potential attack intents and sword trajectories the very instant Dak initiated a move.

In this state of perception bordering on "omniscience", Cui Ciyou did not even need to mobilize much physical power to easily defuse all of Dak's offensives in an extraordinarily relaxed, casual, and even somewhat "perfunctory" manner:

Sometimes he merely twitched his wrist slightly, accurately knocking away the opponent's blade with the spine of his sword;

Sometimes his body leaned slightly to the side like a phantom, causing the opponent's immensely powerful chop to strike empty air;

Finally, he would even guide the blade with a gentle pull, effortlessly neutralizing Dak's offensive at the moment when the boy's old force was spent and his new force had yet to rise, smoothly employing a clever North God Style redirection technique.

Throughout the entire sparring process, Cui Ciyou appeared unhurried and composed, as though he were merely playing with an energetic child.

He did not use any of the "Battle Aura" that warriors of this world relied upon for survival (nor could he use it at all).

Even that terrifying physical strength enhanced by mysterious power only revealed a mere tip of the iceberg sufficient to handle the situation.

What he primarily relied upon at the moment was a reaction speed far surpassing mortal imagination, a perception world constructed by mental power, and an instinctive, precise grasp of timing and distance.

Coupled with a few "North God Style" foundational concepts and redirection techniques learned from Dak over the past few days, dealing with attacks of Dak's caliber was truly more than sufficient.

Clang!

Once again, Dak attempted to launch a rapid thrust, but before the tip of his sword could near Cui Ciyou's body, it was knocked downward quite casually by the pommel of the other's sword.

An immense, overwhelming force far exceeding Dak's imagination instantly transmitted through the blade. It numbed his wrist, caused sharp pain in the web of his hand, and sent his iron sword flying out of his grasp with a clatter to the ground a few meters away.

"Hah... hah..."

Dak powerlessly came to a halt, supporting his knees as he heavily panted, sweat soaking his bangs. The look he cast toward Cui Ciyou shone blindingly, filled with unmasked, fanatical adoration:

"Mr. Ciyou (he stubbornly maintained the honorific), you—you are too amazing! You're simply unimaginably strong!"

"I feel like my sword can't touch you at all! Your speed is too fast! It's simply... simply like the legendary 'Sword God'!"

"No! In the future, you will definitely be even greater than the Sword God!"

Cui Ciyou calmly glanced at him without speaking, silently withdrawing his iron sword.

Toward this youthful, enthusiastic flattery from Dak, he neither affirmed nor denied it, merely finding it... somewhat uninteresting.

"Spars" of this caliber could not even be considered a warm-up for him.

Had it not been for the sake of learning more practical knowledge concerning North God Style swordsmanship from Dak, he likely wouldn't have possessed the patience to engage in such a "game".

Standing at the edge of the clearing, guard captain Carl, who had quietly watched this entire "tutoring match," wore an exceptionally complex expression on his face at that moment, fraught with shock and a lingering trace of deep wariness.

He looked at his son, whose face was flushed red from excitement and exhaustion, and then looked at the black-haired youth whose expression remained flat and whose breathing lacked even the slightest disruption, his heart filled with indescribable astonishment.

He could certainly tell that Cui Ciyou was not using his full strength at all, and had likely not even unleashed a tenth of his power.

Those seemingly casual parries and dodges were hardly advanced techniques, but rather pure, overwhelming bodily instinct and reaction speed.

Dak's "North God Style basic sword strikes," which in Carl's view already looked quite decent, were practically like a three-year-old child's playtime in front of the other!

Dak was already an intermediate North God Style swordsman with quite decent talent; after all, in the original work, the fifteen- or sixteen-year-old noble Luke was only at the intermediate level of Sword God Style.

Carl had no doubt that if Cui Ciyou wished, he could use that ordinary iron sword to easily slaughter his own son in an instant, just like crushing a bug!

Mr. Ciyou's strength... has truly reached what kind of terrifying realm!

If... he could constantly remain within my party, how wonderful that would be!

"Dak... you brat... your footwork is still too chaotic, and you can't grasp the timing of your attacks at all—it's an absolute mess."

"Go back and honestly practice a thousand basic swings again! You aren't allowed to eat until you finish them!"

Carl first forcefully suppressed the shock and unease in his heart, then turned around and sternly reprimanded his son, who was still immersed in worship, striving to maintain his image as a strict father.

However, Cui Ciyou watched as Dak immediately made a comical face at his father's back the moment Carl turned around.

He inwardly laughed and sighed to himself:

This precious son of yours... seems... not to fear you all that much, Captain Carl.

Only then did Carl turn back around and walk up to Cui Ciyou:

"Mr. Ciyou, your handiwork just now... truly... let me, Carl, broaden my horizons and be utterly astounded!"

"Though... well... please pardon my bluntness, your swordsmanship style is somewhat... unique and peculiar, aside from a faint shadow of the North God Style."

"I cannot recognize it as any of the three major styles at all."

"Even so, this level of strength is definitely the greatest I, Carl, have ever witnessed in my life. It is even stronger than certain kingdom swordsmen I once had the fortune to glimpse from afar."

Why not just say I don't know swordsmanship at all and am purely bullying a kid with physical strength? Why bother being so polite?

Besides, didn't I also use portions of the "North God Style" and "Kiba Style" techniques?

They were just a bit fewer, that's all.

Cui Ciyou inwardly muttered in helpless complaint once more.

Carl paused, his expression growing more earnest and solemn as he spoke again:

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

"I invite you to join our adventurer party."