Swordsman

The two of them walked back toward the Gold Lion Inn along the path they had come.

Aidan was noticeably quieter on the way back than when they had first set out.

It wasn't that he had lost interest, but rather that his mind was stuffed with too many things after a full day of sightseeing.

The streets of the royal capital. The architecture of Chamber of Commerce Street. Noble carriages. The blacksmith shops in the Artisan District. The guards at the entrances of material shops. A Purple-quality longsword worth a hundred gold coins. And those idle chats in the restaurant about a “bloodthirsty monster.”

All these things mixed together, making Aidan’s heart feel a bit heavy.

He had originally thought that coming to the royal capital meant entering a place that was more prosperous, safer, and filled with more opportunities.

Now it seemed that while there were indeed opportunities, there were also far more dangers.

Furthermore, many of these dangers didn't stand in the middle of the road with a knife like bandits. They were hidden in the backrooms of shops. They were hidden in rumors. They were hidden in the nights of the Theater District. They were hidden within a seemingly exquisite sword.

Aidan stole a glance at Matthew.

Matthew walked ahead, his expression as calm as ever. That appearance made Aidan feel a bit more at ease. As long as Brother Matthew remained steady, he didn't need to panic.

When the two returned to the Gold Lion Inn, the bronze lamps at the entrance were already lit.

The Gold Lion Inn appeared more composed in the night than during the day. The dark red sign with gold lettering was illuminated by the lamps, and the small Fiery Lion crest beside it shimmered with a dark gold luster. A server at the door saw Matthew and immediately stepped forward to pull the door open.

“Lord Matthew.” The server bowed in greeting.

Matthew nodded and led Aidan inside.

There were a few more guests in the hall than during the day, but it remained quiet. People who looked like caravan managers sat in corners talking in low voices, and two guards leaned against the wall drinking water. The inn manager stood behind the counter; seeing Matthew return, he immediately set down the ledger in his hand and came forward to meet them.

“Lord Matthew, you’ve returned.” His attitude was even more respectful than earlier in the day. It wasn't flattery, but a perfectly measured caution.

Matthew gave a hum of acknowledgment.

Reasonably, he should have gone straight upstairs. But just as his foot stepped onto the carpet before the stairs, he paused. The manager’s eyes were sharp, and he immediately asked, “Does my Lord have further instructions?”

Matthew turned to look at him. “Is there a training ground here?”

The manager was visibly startled. The question seemed somewhat sudden. But his reaction was swift; after a pause of barely half a breath, he immediately said, “There is.”

Matthew’s eyes moved slightly. There really was one.

He had only asked on a whim. The Gold Lion Inn was high-grade and was a property of the Fiery Lion family in the royal capital, so it might have a place for guards to exercise. But even so, he had only asked tentatively, not holding much hope.

He hadn't expected the manager to answer so decisively.

The manager continued, “There is a small-scale training ground underground in the backyard. It is used daily by family guards, caravan guards, and occasionally by distinguished guests. It has sand, wooden dummies, archery targets, as well as wooden swords, blunt swords, and shields for training. If my Lord requires it, I will have the area cleared immediately.”

Matthew’s evaluation of the Fiery Lion family rose another notch in his heart.

Ordinary inns only handled lodging. Better inns had stables, warehouses, servers, and clean rooms. But the Gold Lion Inn even had an underground training ground.

This could no longer be considered a simple inn. It was more like a foothold for the Fiery Lion family in the royal capital. It housed people, stored goods, settled caravans, facilitated communications, allowed guards to rest, and even provided a training ground.

Such an arrangement wasn't thrown together temporarily. It showed that the Fiery Lion family’s operations in the royal capital were very mature. It also showed that the help Regg had given him wasn't as simple as just handing him a place to stay.

He had connected Matthew to an entire line of the Fiery Lion family in the royal capital.

At this thought, Matthew re-evaluated the favor he owed Regg. Regg wanted to befriend him; Matthew was well aware of that. But some friendships were just polite words, while others involved truly providing resources.

A recommendation letter, a caravan, royal capital intelligence, the Gold Lion Inn, and now even a training ground. Regg certainly knew how to conduct himself. This favor could not be treated as if it didn't exist.

Matthew made a mental note of it, though his face remained calm. “Take me there.”

The manager immediately said, “Please wait a moment, my Lord. I will have someone clear the training ground.”

“Don't go to too much trouble,” Matthew said. “I’m just testing a sword.”

Upon hearing the words “testing a sword,” the manager’s eyes flickered imperceptibly, but he didn't ask further. “Understood.”

He called over a server and told him to go to the backyard to confirm the training ground was empty, then personally came out from behind the counter to lead the way.

Aidan followed behind Matthew, his heart also filled with surprise. He had thought this inn was just a nice place to stay. He hadn't expected there to be a training ground underneath.

He whispered, “Brother Matthew, this place is too well-equipped.”

Matthew said flatly, “This is not an ordinary inn.”

Aidan nodded. He could see that now.

Passing through a small door beside the hall, the three arrived at the back of the inn. The backyard wasn't large, but it was kept very clean. There were stables against the wall, and on the other side was a small shed piled with firewood and sundries. The ground was paved with stone slabs, and several bronze lamps lit the area at night, so it didn't feel dark.

The manager led them to a thick wooden door. There were no conspicuous markings on the door, only a very small lion-head bronze ornament. The manager took out a key to open the door, and a cool breeze with a hint of dampness poured out from within.

Behind the door was a set of stone stairs leading down. Several small magic crystal lamps were embedded on both sides of the stairs, their pale blue light illuminating the path downward.

Matthew glanced at the walls of the stairs. The stone was very thick, and the joints were well-handled; it didn't look like a temporarily dug basement. This place had clearly been built with care.

The three of them walked down. The sound of their footsteps echoed between the stone steps, and the noise from outside gradually faded away.

Reaching the bottom, their vision suddenly opened up. The underground training ground was larger than Matthew had imagined. The floor was covered with a layer of fine sand, which wouldn't be too slippery and could cushion footsteps. Surrounding them were heavy stone walls, where several repair marks could be seen. Magic crystal lamps were embedded in the walls, providing stable light that didn't flicker like torches.

Several rows of wooden dummies stood on the left. On the right were archery targets. In the corner stood weapon racks holding wooden swords, blunt swords, training shields, and several pieces of simple leather armor.

There were many footprints on the sand. The wooden dummies also bore old scars. This place wasn't for show. It was truly used frequently.

Aidan couldn't help but whisper, “This place is bigger than I thought.”

The manager smiled. “Family guards occasionally practice here. After a long-distance journey, caravan guards also come down to stretch their muscles. In a city where land is as precious as gold, this training ground isn't considered large, but it’s enough for temporary use.”

He spoke modestly. But Matthew knew that in a place like the royal capital, for an inn to have such a training ground underground was already quite remarkable.

The manager added, “Lord Matthew, do you need me to arrange a sparring partner?”

“No need.”

“Then I shall wait outside. If my Lord has any needs, simply pull the copper bell by the door.”

“Mm.”

The manager knew his place; he didn't look or ask too much, and after a bow, he withdrew.

Once the thick door closed, the training ground became completely quiet. The sounds from outside were cleanly blocked out. All that remained was the faint hum of the magic crystal lamps, the light sound of sand being stepped on, and Aidan’s intentionally softened breathing.

Matthew walked to the center of the sand, but didn't immediately take out the sword. He first slowly loosened his wrists. Then his shoulders, back, knees, and ankles. These movements weren't fast, nor were they flashy.

Aidan stood at the edge of the training ground, watching Matthew warm up his body, but his heart felt inexplicably tense.

He knew Matthew was going to test that sword. That sword that had made him feel uncomfortable the moment it was taken out in the backroom of the weapon shop.

Having only caught a glimpse of it during the day, he had felt cold. Now in the underground training ground, with the surroundings quieter and the light colder, the unease in Aidan’s heart became even more apparent.

He couldn't help but ask, “Brother Matthew, should I stand a bit further away?”

Matthew’s wrist movements paused for a moment, and he glanced at him. “Stand further back.”

Aidan immediately retreated to the wall. He didn't overreach. If Matthew said to stand further back, it meant there might truly be a problem with this sword.

With a flip of Matthew’s right hand, the black long case appeared. He placed the case on a nearby wooden stand and flipped the latches.

Click.

The lid opened. The Blood-Veined Rapier lay quietly inside.

Under the pale blue light of the magic crystal lamps, the silver-grey blade appeared even colder. The dark red runes hidden deep within the metal were also clearer than during the day, like extremely fine blood vessels clinging to the blade—quiet, yet striking. The half-face mask motif on the guard cast a small shadow under the light.

Matthew looked at it, and that familiar surge of excitement bubbled up again in his heart.

Purple-quality.

He wasn't in a rush to pick it up. Instead, he first lightly swept his Spirit across the blade. That chilly aura still existed. But it was contained within the sword, not overflowing much.

Only then did Matthew reach out and grasp the hilt. A chill traveled from his palm. It wasn't the cold of ordinary metal. No matter how cold ordinary metal was, it was just a dead object. But the cold of the Blood-Veined Rapier was different. It felt as if a very thin layer of cold blood was clinging to the outside of the hilt—icy, smooth, and quiet, yet vaguely possessing a hint of vitality.

Aidan, standing in the distance, felt his heart tighten the moment he saw Matthew grasp the hilt.

Matthew’s expression didn't change. But before his eyes, the panel had already surfaced.

【Equipped: Blood-Veined Rapier】

【Quality: Purple】

【Sword-type talent bonuses active...】

【Sword Comprehension increased】

【Weapon Perception increased】

【Striking Coordination increased】

【Basic Swordsmanship Comprehension Speed increased】

Matthew’s gaze narrowed slightly.

The real change had arrived.

Almost the instant the panel surfaced, he felt the sword in his hand become different. No, to be precise, it wasn't that the sword had changed. It was that the distance between him and the sword had changed.

He had used swords before. Thrusting, slashing, cutting, blocking, upward slashing—he had practiced all these moves and could use them in combat.

But that kind of usage was more like “knowing what to do.” He could use a sword to kill, to defend himself, and to fill the gaps between his spells. But the sword was ultimately an external object. When he held a sword, it was a human controlling a tool.

Now, with the Blood-Veined Rapier in hand, the center of gravity of the blade, the angle of the edge, the deviation of the tip, and even how the blade would move with the momentum of a slight wrist flick all became much clearer.

It was as if a thin mist that had originally separated him from the sword had been gently brushed aside by someone.

Matthew slowly raised the sword. With just this simple action, he detected several problems in his past habitual movements.

His shoulder was raised slightly too high. His wrist wasn't pressed firmly enough. The rhythm between his footsteps and the sword tip was half a beat off.

These problems weren't severe. In the eyes of an ordinary Class holder, they might not even be considered problems. But now, Matthew could see them. And if he could see them, he could fix them.

This feeling made his heart warm once again. This was the true reason why a Purple-quality weapon mattered to him.

Sharpness was good. Lightness was good. Weak Lifesteal also had value. But those were only the strengths of the weapon itself. What was truly more important were the talent bonuses.

It didn't directly turn Matthew into a master swordsman. But it made it easier for Matthew to understand the sword. It made it easier for him to discover mistakes. It made it easier for him to turn each swing of the sword into effective accumulation.

This meant that as long as he was given time, his progress in swordsmanship would be much faster than before.

This wasn't just a temporary boost in strength. It was something that could change his training efficiency from then on.

Matthew gripped the hilt tightly, the joy in his heart finally becoming more apparent. These hundred gold coins were worth every bit of their price.

He took a deep breath, walked two steps forward, and stood before a wooden dummy.

The first strike. A thrust.

The blade pierced out, the sound so faint it was almost inaudible. A thin, deep mark appeared on the wooden dummy’s chest.

Aidan, standing in the distance, saw his expression change abruptly. So fast. It wasn't the kind of speed brought by brute force. It was clean. There were no redundant movements. The sword went out and came back, with almost no hesitation in between.

Matthew felt it himself. This strike was much smoother than when he used his previous sword. It wasn't that his strength had increased. It was that his power delivery was clearer. He knew exactly how much to press his wrist, to what extent to relax his shoulder, and how far forward to step.

The second strike, a horizontal slash. The blade edge swept from left to right, cutting into the wooden dummy’s shoulder. Wood chips didn't fly; instead, a neat, thin scar was carved out.

The third strike, a downward slash. The fourth, a reverse upward slash. The fifth, a retreat and another thrust.

Matthew’s movements were slow at first. He wasn't trying to be fast; he was testing. Testing the weight of the sword. Testing its sharpness. Testing whether his body could keep up with this sword.

But the more he tested, the more satisfied he became. The Blood-Veined Rapier was very light. But it wasn't the kind of flimsy, weightless light. Its center of gravity was very stable, the direction of the tip was clear, and with a gentle lead from the wrist, the blade could change its path accordingly.

This was too suitable for Matthew. He wasn't a heavy-armored knight who relied on a heavy sword to crush people. He was a wizard apprentice. The melee weapon he needed wasn't for clashing head-on with others, but for being fast enough, precise enough, and sharp enough at critical moments.

To be able to force an enemy back. To deliver a finishing blow. To protect himself during spell intervals. To make an enemy suddenly pay the price when they thought he was merely a long-range wizard apprentice.

The Blood-Veined Rapier fit perfectly.

Matthew shifted his footsteps slightly, and the blade edge swept out diagonally. If this strike had been performed in the past, he could have done it, but there would have been a slight pause.

...

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