Chapter 289: Conferring Titles

During a casual chat, Luo Ning asked Rulans whether there were any higher-level spellbooks in the castle, and received a negative answer.

With no other choice, he went to the Magic Energy Guild to try his luck, reluctantly spending six hundred gold coins to purchase the spellbook titled *The Wall of Sighs*.

It was a defensive spell: upon casting, it summoned a massive, semi-transparent wind wall capable of blocking area-of-effect attacks.

Over the next two days, while studying the spell, he took Ellyn on a tour of the surroundings, allowing this girl who had spent over a decade living deep in the mountains to finally see the world beyond.

On the waters of Wushan Lake, as Luo Ning accompanied Ellyn in leisure, he successfully mastered the spell.

Before him stood a colossal, semi-transparent wind wall—ten meters long, five meters high—and he could feel its strength; it could likely withstand even Riedal’s Inferno Slash.

“Pity that sixth-level spells can’t be expanded in area like the lower five levels. Otherwise, this wall alone could render all ordinary arrows useless.”

Sixth-level spells, besides their enormous mana cost, possessed extraordinarily complex magical runes—something even a Magus-level mage could not yet enhance in scope or effect.

...

September 7th, the day Wushan Castle had set for its victory banquet.

That evening, nobles of all ranks from Wushan Domain gathered under one roof to celebrate their resounding triumph in war.

“Hey, Luo Ning! I heard about your exploits in Giantrock Domain—I’m utterly impressed!”

Yusef Rive approached, raising his goblet in admiration, yet his expression softened with regret: “Too bad my duty was escorting grain from the southeast—I missed the chance to witness your brilliance firsthand!”

Though partly polite flattery, much of it was true.

He had originally wished to join the southwestern campaign, but his father, Viscount Sandro, fearing Luo Ning’s inexperience might endanger the troops, had instead assigned him to the southeast as a supply officer—to earn a few merits.

No one had expected Luo Ning’s performance to surpass all expectations.

“Yusef, I’ve heard of your deeds too,”

Luo Ning replied with the standard noble smile, clinking his goblet against Yusef’s.

“They say you used the Wind of Perception to help your unit evade ambushes several times. I didn’t realize you’d already reached the rank of Senior Mage!”

“Compared to you, my little feats mean nothing,”

Yusef demurred, though pride gleamed in his eyes.

At twenty-eight, reaching the mid-tier of Senior Mage status was already a remarkable achievement.

After exchanging compliments, Luo Ning asked: “Yusef, when I bought materials at the Magic Energy Guild, I learned sixth-level spellbooks are rarely sold. If you ever become a Magus, where would you seek one?”

Yusef scratched his head. Though proud, he knew well the difficulty of becoming a Magus.

“Maguses are rare. The Guild doesn’t stock sixth-level spellbooks—they don’t sell. But sixth-level ones still circulate a bit. Seventh-level? They’re held only by kingdoms, dukes, or ancient magical lineages. For instance, the venerable Master Silva surely possesses many.”

Silva was among the greatest on the continent, an object of reverence for every mage. At the mention of his name, Yusef’s eyes shimmered with awe.

Luo Ning nodded slightly. So he’d been lucky to acquire *The Wall of Sighs* at all.

“To obtain sixth-level or higher spellbooks, you must either serve them, or use connections to buy from their owners. Of course, if you have coin, you can purchase spell scrolls and reverse-engineer the runes from their patterns.”

Yusef spoke with confidence. “But it’s difficult. It demands deep mastery and the courage to attempt it.”

Luo Ning’s eyes lit up—he’d never considered reverse-engineering from scrolls.

He was just pondering whether to try, when he remembered the exorbitant cost of sixth-level scrolls—and immediately abandoned the thought.

“What are you two whispering about over here?”

Yusef’s father, Viscount of Lingchuan City and commander of the Fourth Knightly Order of Wushan Castle, strolled over, laughing as he raised his goblet to Luo Ning.

“Luo Ning, congratulations—you’re about to become the third Earl of Wushan Domain!”

Huh?

Luo Ning was startled. Rulans had never mentioned this outright—how did this man know?

Sandro seemed to sense his confusion and chuckled. “Don’t look at me—I heard it from the big-mouthed Marwen.”

“Ah, I see.”

Luo Ning smiled. Clearly, Rulans had tipped off Marwen first—intentionally leaking the news to gauge reactions.

Clearly, no one objected. Not even the Haid family.

Beside him, Yusef sighed. An earl at eighteen? Hard to fathom.

Granted, Luo Ning’s lineage granted him advantages, but no one could deny he had saved Wushan Castle and its many houses from disaster.

“Ladies and gentlemen…”

The banquet hall erupted with the loud voice of the master of ceremonies. All turned to see Duke Rulans enter, leaning on his cane.

A thunderous wave of cheers and applause greeted him.

They knew the finest moment of the evening was about to begin.

Rulans stepped onto the dais, smiling. Today, he had dressed with deliberate solemnity—regal, vigorous.

He raised a hand, and silence fell.

“I apologize for interrupting your joyful feast, but I believe we have something more important to do.”

“The Polant Bandits have been annihilated. The Black Gold Brotherhood has been driven into Black Pine Mountain. Wushan Domain has won a great victory!”

His words were concise, unadorned, devoid of flourish or sentiment.

“In these two battles, every brave knight earned extraordinary merit! As I honor them now, I shall also elevate those who displayed the greatest valor.”

A roar erupted from the guests.

For commoners, the leap from peasant to knight, from knight to noble—it all came down to this single step.

Rulans scanned the crowd and called out: “Toru, Philip, Solstan, Melonika!”

Four knights strode forward, kneeling on one knee.

Luo Ning recognized the first three. Melonika—he had never seen him before.

The burly man’s face was calm, unshaken, unlike the others’ ecstatic expressions.

Rulans drew the sword from Galil’s sheath and laid it upon Toru’s shoulder: “Lord of Wolffang.”

Wolffang—a small town west of Wushan Castle, named for its jagged, tooth-like terrain.

Toru had once managed it. Now, he owned it.

Rulans lifted the blade and placed it next upon Philip’s, Solstan’s, and Melonika’s shoulders.

Their new domains: Cassir Town, Sari Village, Wushan Village.

Finally, Rulans sheathed the sword and spoke with solemn gravity:

“On this sacred day, as Lord of Wushan Domain, I bestow upon you, in the name of the King and the honor of the nobility, the title and dignity of Baron. May you guard the peace of Wushan Domain with courage and loyalty!”

“I, Toru, solemnly swear—I shall not betray this honor. With sword and strength, I shall defend Wushan Domain’s tranquility, and fight for the glory of Wushan Castle!”

The other three echoed similar oaths. The hall erupted into wild celebration.

Some knights wept with emotion—perhaps seeing in these men the very ideal they themselves aspired to.

Luo Ning was swept up in the roaring tide of jubilation.

To be ennobled—perhaps it felt as joyous as ranking second or third in the imperial examinations.

Yet today’s ceremony felt more formal. When he himself had been made Baron and Viscount, Rulans had never laid a sword upon his shoulder.

After reciting the words, Rulans signaled for the knights to bring forth ornate boxes containing the baronial badges and letters of investiture, and presented them to the four newly ennobled lords.

He picked up another box from beside him. “Marvin, in recognition of your loyalty, courage, and strength, I entrust you with the governance of Sandflow Town—may you bring new life to this land long ravaged by suffering.”

“Thank you for your affirmation; I shall strive for the prosperity of Sandflow Town!”

Marvin Ironhoof was already a viscount; though he had earned glory in the war against the Polant bandits, it had not been enough to elevate him from viscount to earl.

At that moment, a knight entered the hall, bearing a golden medal, and stood at Rulans’s right side;

another knight followed, carrying a jeweled casket containing the letters patent, and took his place on the left.

The atmosphere in the hall reached its true crescendo.

Rulans’s gaze swept over the crowd and settled upon Ronin.

A faint smile touched his lips.

“Ronin Ushan—my follower, Viscount of Ubei, my grandson!”

At the sound of this call, Ronin felt an unexpected surge of emotion.

He drew a deep breath, stepped forward with proud strides, and, mimicking the others before him, knelt on one knee before Rulans.

A heavy sword was laid upon his shoulders.

“Your calmness spared Ushan Keep from disaster. Your wisdom saved hundreds of warriors from slaughter. Your valor forced the enemies of Ushan Castle to pay a terrible price!”

Rulans’s solemn voice, laden with hope, stilled the breaths of all in the hall—especially those of Ronin’s age or younger, whose eyes shimmered with awe and envy.

Breton’s gaze was filled with worship; the Ushan family had grown mighty.

Eileen, who had accompanied Ronin to the banquet, was deeply shaken by the scene. It felt too solemn, too sacred—and her admiration for Ronin deepened more than ever before.

Rulans’s voice continued.

“Today, in my name as Lord of Ushan Keep and Marquis of Thunder of the Kingdom, I bestow upon you the title of Earl of Ubei, and grant you dominion over Stonepeak Hold and Redmount Town. May your wisdom and strength bring prosperity and peace to this land, and defend the glory of your house!”

Ronin spoke with grave solemnity: “I, Ronin Ushan, hereby swear—with the title of Earl of Ubei—that I shall guard the peace of my domain and uphold the honor of my family, with all my wisdom and might.” (End of Chapter)