Matthew's gaze fell on Nathan's pale, bloodless face. Those once-fierce eyes were now nearly unfocused, and blood continued to pour from his severed wrist...
A thought arose: how to get a critically injured, dying enemy to speak was now a difficult problem that needed to be solved.
Nathan's current state was like a candle flickering in the wind. Matthew probably wouldn't even need to threaten him; before long, he would breathe his last.
Direct coercion was obviously out of the question. To a dying man, any threat had already lost its meaning.
Then, a thought flashed through Matthew's mind: could he appeal to the man's emotions?
But he immediately dismissed the idea—it was utterly preposterous.
A ruthless bandit like Nathan, who had spent years living on the edge of a blade, had a mindset completely different from ordinary people. He could never be swayed by a few words of comfort or sentimentality.
Moreover, he knew nothing about Nathan's personal relationships, or if he even had any children...
Trying to move him with “emotion” would be like playing a lute to a cow—completely useless, and it might even backfire.
A few seconds passed, and Nathan suddenly coughed violently. A large mouthful of dark, thick blood foamed from the corner of his mouth, clinging stickily to his dry, cracked lips.
His nearly unfocused eyes rolled with great effort, finally managing to center on Matthew.
As if he had long since seen through Matthew's calculations, the corner of his mouth twitched in an extremely slow, almost imperceptible smirk as he rasped in a low whisper:
“Whatever you want to ask... just ask.”
Hearing this, Matthew's eyes narrowed slightly. Waves surged in his heart as countless thoughts flashed through his mind—such as how the man knew what he was thinking, or why there were no conditions attached...
Ultimately, he suppressed his chaotic thoughts and spoke:
“The sword in my hand was forged as a replica of the ‘Divine Sword of Dawn.’ Since you recognized it, how much do you know about the origin and whereabouts of the real, original sword?
“Also, do you know where I can find a sword of better quality than this one?”
His voice faded.
A few seconds passed, and a cool breeze swept over. Nathan seemed to snap out of his daze. An abnormal flush suddenly rose on his pale face, and his eyes cleared for a brief moment.
Is this terminal lucidity? This isn't good...
Seeing the man's state, Matthew muttered inwardly, though he did not rush him in the slightest.
Nathan's gaze shifted to Matthew. The corner of his mouth twitched into a half-smile, and his voice rasped, as faint as wind blowing through dry grass:
“You did it on purpose... leading me here, didn't you?”
He panted, his gaze sweeping over Matthew's fingers, hinting at something. “...The effect of that ring is not convenient to use in front of others.”
Without waiting for Matthew's response, he struggled to continue, “As for the Divine Sword of Dawn you asked about...”
He shook his head, a look of resigned calm appearing in his eyes.
“I don't know its whereabouts. I'm afraid even if you search the entire kingdom, it won't be found.”
Hearing this, Matthew's eyes narrowed slightly. Though he had expected this, a trace of indescribable disappointment still quietly washed over him.
This sole clue had been severed by the man's words.
However, Nathan's next words stirred Matthew's emotions once again.
“However...”
Nathan took a labored breath and said haltingly, “As far as I know, most of the families in the county seat... possess swords better than the one in your hand.”
A complex light flashed in his eyes, as if he were reminiscing about the past.
“But those are genuine treasures. In some lesser families... a sword of this quality is practically equivalent to their ancestral ‘Family Sword.’ Outsiders wouldn't even dare to dream of it.”
Hearing this, Matthew's gaze sharpened, and he finally understood.
No wonder Nathan had been so shocked when he recognized the sword earlier. It turned out this replica Dawn Sword was already at the absolute peak within the realm of ordinary weapons.
To take it a step further would mean it was no longer a common weapon, but a Family Sword that served as the core inheritance of a family.
Having realized this, Matthew felt a complex wave of emotions.
First, his gratitude toward Instructor Calm deepened.
The value of this sword far exceeded his initial estimates—it was by no means something that could be measured by a few gold coins and a scythe.
Instructor Calm had not only handed such a precious weapon over to him but had also never mentioned the affection and expectations it might carry.
This silent contribution brought a heavy, comforting warmth to Matthew amidst the biting grassland wind.
Second, it gave him a clearer understanding of what it would take to acquire a higher-tier sword in the future, while also casting a slight shadow over his mood.
If Dawn Sword was already the peak of ordinary weapons, then higher-tier swords would all fall into the category of inherited Family Swords or equivalents.
Such items were often deeply hidden within ancient families or secretive factions, by no means easy to find or obtain.
However, this slight gloom did not last long.
Having slain a powerful enemy like Nathan with his own strength, he had proven that he was qualified to continue marching down this path.
Finding a higher-tier sword was undoubtedly difficult, but it was by no means hopeless.
The thoughts flashed by in an instant.
Matthew looked up at Nathan lying on the ground. The man's breathing was growing even weaker, and the color had completely drained from his face. Though the bleeding from his severed arm had gradually stopped, his life force was rapidly fading.
Is the final surge ending? It seems I need to hurry...
No longer hesitating, he immediately asked in a deep voice:
“Why did you fight to the death even at the cost of activating a secret technique? We have no blood feud with you. You could have retreated—the grasslands are so vast, we certainly wouldn't have pursued you deep into them.”
A trace of mockery flashed in Nathan's unfocused eyes, as if he had been waiting for this exact question.
His lips trembled, and his voice rasped with a long-suppressed venom:
“Did you... see that yellow-haired youth?”
Hearing this, Matthew's gaze sharpened.
He immediately realized that the man was referring to the person who had remained with the horse bandits all along, whose temperament was completely out of place among them.
Nathan twitched his lips with great effort, his expression turning somewhat hideous:
“He is from the Fiery Lion family.”
Matthew's pupils contracted slightly, a sudden shock rippling through his heart.
Seeing his change in expression, Nathan immediately realized that the youth before him knew of his past. He panted and continued:
“My banishment from the family, being hunted down... Heh, that was merely a show put on for outsiders.
“It was them... who arranged for me to come to the grasslands. Plundering merchant caravans, accumulating wealth... seizing goods to expand the family's financial resources from the shadows, and handling their dirty, unspeakable work.”
He had to pause to rest after every few words, but the hatred in his voice was unmistakable.
Rate on N.U.
