Apology

In the afternoon, Matthew stepped into the lobby of the Grey Rock Training Ground as usual.

The moment he walked through the door, the gray-haired old manager behind the counter immediately looked up.

This time, instead of keeping his head down to check the ledger as he usually did, the man put down his work, stood up, and took the initiative to nod in greeting to Matthew.

An imperceptible trace of discomfort flashed in the old manager's eyes. His tone was even more respectful than before, even carrying a hint of caution. “You're here. Here is your key.”

With that, he hurriedly handed over the key.

Matthew calmly reached out and took it, showing no particular reaction to this extra courtesy.

But in the old man's eyes, this reaction carried a deeper meaning—to remain so calm and unfazed in the face of another's respect and goodwill was not something an ordinary person could easily pull off.

Some of the trainees resting or chatting in the lobby also cast glances at Matthew, whether intentionally or not.

Those gazes no longer held their initial scrutiny or indifference. Instead, they were replaced by faint apprehension, curiosity, and even a hint of avoidance.

Word of him knocking Jasper unconscious with a single strike yesterday had clearly spread here.

Matthew's expression remained unchanged. He simply nodded to the manager, took his key, and turned to walk down the corridor.

After only a few steps, someone suddenly approached him from the side.

The man was heavily built, with a savage scar running across his face. He was a member of the Blood Hand Gang.

Yet at this moment, his face bore none of the arrogance or gloom typical of gang members. Instead, he forced a somewhat stiff smile and cupped his fists toward Matthew.

“My friend, that kid Jasper was blind to offend you yesterday. I apologize on his behalf, and on behalf of the gang.”

He kept his voice low, but his tone was quite sincere. “The gang has already punished him, so I hope you won't take it to heart.”

Matthew paused slightly, a trace of surprise flashing in his mind.

From what he knew, gangs like this were always overbearing in the outer city, rarely bowing their heads to outsiders, let alone taking the initiative to offer an apology.

But on second thought, he realized a possibility—for the Blood Hand Gang to expand so rapidly in the outer city, they must have the backing of the inner city nobles, and it was highly likely one of the three major noble families.

He frequently entered and left the inner city. Although his identity was not public, he had not deliberately hidden it either. With a little investigation, the other party could easily guess some of his background.

This sudden change in attitude was less about fearing him and more about dreading the power that might stand behind him.

As he was pondering, the scar-faced man saw his silence and a fleeting trace of distress and tension flashed in his eyes. Thinking Matthew was still angry, he hurriedly pulled a small gray cloth pouch from his breast and offered it with both hands.

“A small token of our apology. Please accept it.”

Matthew took the pouch. It felt heavy in his hand, and a gentle shake produced the crisp clinking of metal—coins.

Understanding dawned on him, but he merely smiled faintly, nodded to the other man, and casually slipped the pouch into his robe.

Then, his tone softened slightly as he said to the scar-faced man:

“Since it was a misunderstanding, it's fine now that we've cleared it up.”

Hearing this, the scar-faced man's tense expression relaxed slightly, and he quickly replied:

“Rest assured, no one will trouble you again.”

Matthew smiled. At this point, he actually wished someone would...

He no longer spoke, turning to walk deeper into the training ground.

Standing in place, the scar-faced man watched Matthew's back disappear around the corner of the corridor. The forced smile on his face rapidly faded, replaced by a deep-seated look of disgust and coldness in his eyes.

He gritted his teeth and thought to himself, Relying on the prestige of the Fiery Lion family, you actually dare to lay hands on the Blood Hand Gang... Enjoy your pride for a few more days. It won't be long before... Hmph.

...

Entering the training room, Matthew locked the door behind him before pulling out the gray cloth pouch, untying the string to look inside.

Sure enough, there were gold coins inside. After counting them, there were exactly twenty.

While not a massive fortune, it was by no means a small sum, easily enough to cover several years of living expenses for an ordinary person.

Matthew's expression remained calm, showing little surprise. Since the Blood Hand Gang chose to apologize, they naturally had to show decent sincerity. This amount of money shouldn't be too difficult for them to produce.

But logically speaking, Matthew had only taught a lesson to a marginal member of the Blood Hand Gang. Such an ordinary conflict shouldn't have warranted such a solemn apology and peace offering.

What intrigued Matthew even more was that the scar-faced man who had just shown up possessed quite a strong presence and strength, likely around the Brass Rank. He would be considered a high-ranking figure in an outer city gang.

For a gang leader of such status to personally step forward and offer compensation over such a minor friction—his words and behavior even carrying an imperceptible caution—was clearly out of the ordinary.

Unwilling to overthink it, he put away the gold coins, took off his outer coat, lifted his wooden sword, and walked toward the cast-iron dummy.

Soon, a rhythmic and heavy clashing sound echoed in the room. The wooden sword struck the iron dummy's chest again and again, sparks and dull thuds intertwining as sweat gradually soaked his back.

Outside the window, the sunlight gradually waned, but the training continued.

And that faint anticipation of breaking through to the Silver Rank became increasingly clear and solid with each swing of his sword.

...