Chapter 239: Breton's Gift

The lineage of Bledsoe’s parents was far from illustrious.

Wiggins, it went without saying, had managed to become an advanced knight only in his forties or fifties, meaning any further progress in strength during his lifetime was virtually impossible, for the advanced rank was his ultimate ceiling.

As for Diane, though heaven had bestowed upon her a beautiful countenance, it had stripped away any talent for cultivation, leaving her a mere ordinary soul.

That Bledsoe possessed such high cultivation talent seemed more like an inheritance skipped across generations, for both his paternal and maternal grandfathers had been quite gifted.

Then again, talent was but one facet of the coin; that Bledsoe could become an intermediate knight at fourteen owed far more to his unyielding perseverance in training, as well as the rigorous demands and tutelage Diane had imposed since his childhood.

Without these two factors—especially that steadfast heart—talent alone would have borne no fruit.

The world was filled with geniuses, yet those who ultimately faded into obscurity were as common as the grass.

"If he maintains this state of mind, he should reach it by ten—?"

Watching Bledsoe approach, Ronin could not help but feel a touch of envy: "What incredible talent!"

"You are not lacking either,"

Rulance said with a smile. "You are only eighteen, and to possess your current strength would make you a rare genius anywhere."

In truth, the old man had never quite understood how Ronin had transformed himself, not only becoming a mage but also standing with one foot already inside the threshold of a bronze-level knight.

However, he chose not to pry too deeply.

Every soul had its own fortunes, just as the boy had managed to find such a miraculous item as a spatial ring.

Rulance looked toward Bledsoe, his gaze equally filled with satisfaction.

Yet if he were to compare these two paternal half-brothers, he still hoped that in the future, Wushan Ridge would be inherited by Ronin.

For Bledsoe focused solely on cultivation and had little contact with other affairs; he was better suited to be a supporter.

For the short term, however, he would let nature take its course, as he was in no hurry to change anything.

"Grandfather, Brother, Mother sent me to inform you that lunch is ready and we can begin at any time."

Ronin stepped forward and patted the youth's arm: "Congratulations on becoming an intermediate knight."

Bledsoe scratched his head with a touch of humility, "Compared to you, Brother, I am still far behind!"

As he spoke, he drew a dagger about a dozen centimeters long from his coat pocket and handed it to Ronin.

"This is the birthday gift I prepared for you. I hope you like it."

"Oh?"

Ronin accepted it with some surprise, having never expected Bledsoe to prepare a gift for him.

Come to think of it, he did not even remember when the other's birthday was.

The dagger was fashioned of wood—not just the outer sheath, but even the blade within was entirely wooden.

Holding it in his hand, it felt no different from a child's toy.

Carved upon the sheath of the dagger were the words "Happy Birthday," while the blade bore the crest of the Wushan family, though the coloring was somewhat imprecise, lacking the pure golden hue of the mountains.

Ronin turned it over a couple of times, originally thinking the dagger might conceal some secret, such as a carved spell array.

But alas, it was merely an ordinary dagger carved from wood by Bledsoe's own hands.

Let alone a spell array, it would likely struggle even to cut meat.

With a smile, Ronin put the dagger away; though it was worth little money, it was the thought that counted.

"Thank you very much, Bledsoe. I like your gift immensely!"

"Hehe..."

Bledsoe grew a little bashful; upon hearing that Ronin was returning to Wushan Castle for his birthday, he had pondered what gift to prepare.

His first thought had been a weapon, but having seen the Flowing Flame Sword and knowing its extraordinary nature, he decided against purchasing one.

Moreover, buying a weapon outside with money could hardly convey his sincerity.

He had weighed his options back and forth before finally deciding to do it himself, which resulted in this very dagger.

Despite a period of careful polishing, it still appeared somewhat crude.

Fortunately, Ronin made no complaint and accepted it with pleasure.

Rulance watched the scene with a smile, surprised to find the relationship between the two brothers quite harmonious, a testament both to Ronin's broad-mindedness and Bledsoe's lack of obsession with the inheritance.

Had it been anyone else, after the maneuvers Rulance had pulled, even brothers would have sworn a blood feud.

"Perhaps I should have waited a bit longer back then,"

Rulance thought to himself. If he hadn't thought to cast Ronin aside back then, but had instead waited a few more months to see, perhaps none of this would have happened?

In retrospect, that series of actions had been rather rash of him.

"Let us go, lest we keep Diane waiting."

He asked, "Is Wiggins back yet?"

"No, it is unlikely he will return for midday, so we probably do not need to wait for him."

Rulance gave a lukewarm grunt of acknowledgment.

Ronin smiled and said, "Father cares so much for the stability of the border. With his reinforcement, there shouldn't be any trouble there, right?"

"Heh, care for the stability of the border? He is hardly that zealous!"

Rulance gave a cold snort: "The only reason he doesn't want to lose Chishan Town is because he holds a share in that iron mine!"

Ronin's expression turned peculiar.

He had thought Wiggins was merely defending one of the few victorious exploits of his life, never imagining such a reason lay beneath.

No wonder Diane had been somewhat hesitant when this matter was mentioned just now.

The Wushan family were the masters of Wushan Ridge, yet this did not mean every coin fell into the pockets of Wushan Castle.

Much of the wealth had to be spent, such as the maintenance of the castle and all the expenses of the knight order, each item demanding a staggering sum.

Subtracting these expenditures and the reserved budget, it was a mystery how much money actually reached Wushan Castle.

Furthermore, even when it arrived at the castle, Rulance remained the master here, leaving Wiggins with an even smaller share.

Under such circumstances, earning some "side income" became rather important.

Just like the iron mine in Chishan Town, Wiggins held a share, and the income it generated naturally flowed into his private pocket.

Now that the Boland bandit group was eyeing Chishan Town greedily, they were clearly trying to touch Wiggins's private property, so he naturally would not agree.

Rulance also chose to turn a blind eye to such matters.

As long as it did not threaten the ruling position of Wushan Castle or affect its operation, those below could do as they pleased with the rest.

He had neither the energy nor the interest to manage such trifles.

With Wiggins absent, the atmosphere of the midday banquet was rather pleasant.

As the ostensible manager of the castle, Diane was exceptionally warm toward Ronin today.

Not only did she have the kitchen prepare many dishes he liked, but she also specially brought out exquisite pastries and rare mead for him during lunch.

Furthermore, instead of the cold silence he had anticipated, Diane showered Ronin with solicitous care, inquiring now about the development of the Northern Wushan territory, now about Ronin's living conditions, and even expressing a desire to learn about his personal romantic affairs.

Bretton’s eyes filled with confusion as he watched this scene, his mind repeatedly asking: What has happened to Mother?

It was no wonder he was puzzled.

Earlier this year, Bretton had wanted to train with Ronin in swordplay, and at that time, Dianie had firmly opposed it.

Today, she not only treated Ronin so kindly, but even encouraged Bretton to spar and exchange techniques with his brother, to make up for his shortcomings in swordsmanship.

This unusual behavior left Ronin uneasy; he could only bury his head in his meal, mumbling vague responses of “mm-hmm” and “uh-huh.”

Of everyone present, perhaps only Rulans found nothing strange about it—he ate the steak sliced by the servants and sipped occasionally from his glass of fine beer.

To Rulans, Dianie’s transformation was perfectly natural.

And at the root of it all lay her recent journey to Black Serpent City. (End of chapter)