Chapter 296: Breakthrough and Cooperation

In the dim woodland, Tom and David jointly surrounded the mid-rank knight.

At first, though the opponent employed combat techniques, their effect was limited, leaving only minor wounds on Tom and David.

Later, likely due to insufficient aura, the three closed in, locked in brutal close-quarters combat.

When Ronin arrived, Tom and David were clearly being pressured.

“This mid-rank knight’s combat skills aren’t particularly refined—he’s merely gaining slight advantage through sheer strength.”

“Between Tom and David, Tom performs better—likely due to the advantage of having awakened earlier as a professional knight.”

Ronin watched, analyzing silently.

David had awakened only days after Ronin’s arrival; though he’d trained under Ridal and Macken, he still lagged behind Tom.

Perhaps sensing Ronin’s gaze, the combatants’ emotions diverged sharply.

Tom and David grew more fervent—losing under the Lord’s watch would be unbearable humiliation.

Meanwhile, the Wolf-Slayer mercenary knight thought only of escape—facing a man who could slay their leader with a single sword stroke meant death if he stayed.

This emotional imbalance shattered the fragile equilibrium instantly.

David lunged, thrusting his blade toward the knight’s heart. The man parried hastily, his stance unsteady.

“Now!”

Tom surged forward, swinging his sword in a brutal arc toward the opponent’s head.

*Zzzt—*

Suddenly, an ordinary longsword erupted with violet lightning.

The strike carved a long, deep gash across the knight’s face, blood spraying. David followed with another slash—severing the throat—ending the enemy’s life.

“Tom, what was that?”

David turned, astonished, staring at Tom’s sword, still crackling with residual arcs.

*Clap. Clap. Clap.*

Ronin walked over, clapping slowly, a wide smile on his face: “Congratulations, Tom. From this moment, you are a mid-rank knight.”

Releasing lightning-attribute aura was unmistakable proof of breakthrough.

Tom grinned.

At that moment, his aura seed had burst from his heart, flowing like liquid through his veins.

“This… is what a mid-rank knight is.”

He couldn’t believe it—he’d broken through.

“Congratulations!”

David offered his praise, eyes brimming with envy and pressure.

They’d both followed the Lord for nearly the same duration—yet he remained unbroken.

“A mid-rank knight must draw aura from the heart, branching it through the body, gradually forming a complete network of aura pathways.”

Ronin explained to David, then withdrew a secret scripture from his space ring.

“This contains the human aura meridian map. Study it well. Strive to establish your system, rupture your Qi Sea, and ascend to high rank.”

Tom took the scripture solemnly, kneeling on one knee. “Thank you, my Lord. Tom will never betray your trust.”

“Enough. The trial is over. Inventory the spoils and rest early.”

The battle in the woods had ended.

The Wolf-Slayer mercenary band hadn’t been annihilated—most had fled under cover of night.

But with their captain, Baul, dead, the mercenary group would surely dissolve soon.

White and Phil expressed their gratitude to Ronin—and now understood his identity.

They hadn’t expected the hooded figure before them to be the Marquis’s grandson, nor that he truly possessed the legendary power spoken of in whispers.

No doubt, for a long time to come, the tale of Ronin slaying a high-rank knight with a single stroke would spread through Thornspike City and even the entire Ushan Domain—perhaps even morphing into rumors that he’d slain bronze and silver knights alike.

After the brief turmoil, the camp settled once more—though faint sobs could still be heard.

None could fathom that friends who had shared supper just hours before now lay cold, lifeless.

But this world was thus—violence and death were its eternal refrain.

To soothe the others, Les stepped forward, promising that upon reaching Thornspike Valley, Baron Hamett would administer justice and compensate the bereaved.

Ronin regarded her with newfound respect.

The Wolf-Slayers had targeted Les and her son—those men died because of them.

In choosing to step forward rather than remain silent, Les displayed courage.

The night passed without further incident.

When dawn bathed the land again, the caravan regained a measure of vitality.

White and Phil arranged for two men to carry their fallen comrade’s body back to Willie Manor; the rest, heavy-hearted, resumed the journey.

Life must go on.

Thornspike Valley lay not far from last night’s campsite; by midday, the convoy entered its gates.

Here, low hills stretched, dotted with lush trees—but the thorny thickets scattered everywhere drew far more attention.

These spiky shrubs clustered everywhere, their deep crimson thorns glaring, ceaselessly warning humans not to approach.

Though dangerous, the plant held medicinal value.

Ronin recalled—Elron’s herbal and magical concoctions required thorn as an ingredient.

Hmm. Later, I should speak with Baron Hamett—see if we can harvest some here.

Hooves clattered as David returned, accompanied by Baron Hamett himself.

Only upon seeing the man in person did Ronin recall his face.

“Hahahaha! Lord Ronin! I never expected you to grace my domain!”

Hamett dismounted, warmly greeting him.

Ronin was currently the most celebrated noble in Ushan Domain—wherever he went, he was met with fervent welcome. And Hamett had risen to baron largely due to his role in this battle, partly owing to Ronin’s glory.

“Congratulations, Hamett!”

Ronin dismounted and greeted him. “Under your rule, Thornspike Valley will surely become a thriving metropolis.”

After exchanging pleasantries, Hamett led Ronin into his castle—a wooden fortress.

He explained it had been left by the previous governor of Thornspike; he intended to build his own stone castle, though it would take years.

Upon hearing of Les and Pick’s ordeal on the road, Hamett thanked Ronin profusely.

“This is all my fault,” he said, voice heavy. “My ex-wife and son perished. I’ve been occupied with their funeral arrangements and managing Thornspike’s affairs—my few knightly retainers are stretched thin, with no time to fetch them from Willie.”

He cast an apologetic glance at Les and Pik sitting nearby, then a flicker of anger passed through his eyes. “Count Ronin, do you know who sent the Wolfslayer Mercenaries to carry out this act?”

Ronin shook his head. Since it wasn’t his affair, he hadn’t cared much—if he had, he would’ve seized someone last night and asked.

“Just see who stands to benefit in the end.”

Ronin turned to Pik. “If all your sons were dead, who would inherit the barony?”

Hamet froze, then as if struck by revelation, his face flushed with shock and fury.

“Thank you for the reminder—I think I already know who it is.”

He drew a deep breath, steadying his rage. “My brother, Jony. I truly never wished it to be him.”

Though Hamet, nearing fifty, could still father children, without a male heir, the title of Baron of Thornvale might indeed pass to his brother.

Ronin cared little for others’ family affairs.

“Baron Hamet, besides escorting Lady Les here by chance, I have another matter requiring your aid.”

Hamet perked up instantly. “Speak!”

“The Thornvale region borders Spike City—you must know it well. I need you to recruit craftsmen skilled in harbor construction.”

Hamet gasped. Could the Ubei Domain even build a harbor?

Yet, remembering Ubei’s northern and eastern shores faced the open sea, perhaps it made sense.

But what use would a harbor serve there?

Across Spike City lay the capital and other cities; to the north and east of Ubei lay only ocean—no land, no trade.

Would one sail all the way around the kingdom? Or follow the eastern coastline south to do business with the hostile Duchy of Vera?

Building a harbor was astronomically expensive. With that money, one might as well transport goods overland.

Though baffled, Hamet still agreed.

“Rest assured, my lord. I’ve lived in Spike City since childhood—I’ve sailed the Screaming Sea countless times. I know harbors intimately. Leave this to me.”

Ronin smiled his thanks, then moved to the second matter.

“I have an alchemist in my domain who requires thornvines as an ingredient, but they’re rare in Ubei. If you’re interested, send someone to the Marsh Town in Ubei and seek out the Grand Physician Elrond.”

Hamet’s eyes lit up. He caught the implication—it was a business opportunity.

Though he bore the title of baron, Thornvale held no special resources; economic development had long been his headache.

His only solutions so far: clear more farmland, grow grain and flax, raise internal taxes, and sell surplus for profit.

Ronin’s mention of thornvines opened a new path.

Thornvale was vast. Whatever else it lacked, thornvines grew in abundance.

Every time he cleared land for farming, he cut them down. If they could be repurposed, why not?

“Frankly, I’m spending money everywhere—building a castle, recruiting soldiers, forming a knightly cadre, even purchasing farming tools—all require vast sums.”

Not every baron earned gold as swiftly as Ronin.

Hamet, though a long-serving honor knight, had saved some coin—but it was nowhere near enough to manage his domain or raise a knightly company.

He needed to make money.

So when Ronin suggested even discarded thornvines could be profitable, Hamet’s gaze burned with eagerness.

“When autumn harvest concludes, I shall journey to Ubei myself. Should we reach an agreement, it would be an honor for me—and for Thornvale!”

“Ubei welcomes you at any time.”

Ronin smiled. “Also, you mentioned purchasing farming tools and forming a knightly cadre—I believe we may find common ground there.”

“Oh?”

Then Ronin became a salesman.

He now controlled Chi Mountain Town. The Chi Mountain iron mine had begun operations. The artisan Fons had joined his service.

Once Kales transported iron-smelting techniques to Chi Mountain, they could mass-produce farming tools at a fraction of the cost.

Such tools would be affordable even for common households.

Later, when refined iron-smelting was perfected, weapon production would grow simpler—and prices would fall accordingly.

Of course, Ronin would never reveal the blast-furnace technique. He’d merely offer weapons, armor, and tools at “friendly prices”—slightly lower than market rate.

If Hamet couldn’t afford much ironware, Ubei still had the Ironwood Workshop, producing sturdy armor and shields.

Hamet had witnessed the effectiveness of Ubei’s ironwood gear in battle against the Polant Raiders. He thought: if funds ran short, equipping a few soldiers with ironwood brigandines wouldn’t be half-bad.

In truth, Ronin’s ring still held a silk gown and several delicate porcelain bowls—but seeing Hamet’s likely inability to afford such luxuries, he saw no point in pushing them.

Ronin had never sold anything before, yet this negotiation with Hamet went smoothly—because the client, deep down, wanted to buy.

Ronin believed: if they cooperated on thornvines, and if tool and weapon prices remained fair, Hamet would become a loyal, long-term client of Ubei.

All Ronin now hoped was that Hamet would earn more—so he could buy more from Ubei.

Time flew. After lunch in Thornvale’s small castle, though pressed to stay, Ronin mounted up with David and Tom and continued onward.

Though time to Golden Feather City was ample, lingering too long would waste it.

Horses galloped. Two or three hours sufficed to reach Spike City from Thornvale.

It was a city rivaling Wushan in scale, its prosperity fueled by the bustling harbor—its population exceeding one hundred thousand.

Yet, perhaps due to its proximity to the sea, the air here was far fouler than Wushan’s, making Ronin wish he could stop breathing altogether.

“My lord, shall I notify Viscount Vittorino?” David asked.

Nobles visiting other nobles’ castles always sent word ahead—just as David had informed Hamet before their noon visit.

Ronin paused, then shook his head. “No. Tonight, we’ll find an inn near the docks. Tom, arrange passage for tomorrow morning—we sail at dawn.”

Visiting another’s castle meant endless formalities.

Ronin preferred to sleep in his room—or craft two spell scrolls—than endure such nonsense.

Yet, though he had no intention of visiting Spike Castle, Viscount Vittorino had already instructed the city guards: notify him immediately upon seeing Cloudhoof or a silver-haired youth.

Ronin rode beneath a hood, low and quiet—but even blind men could tell Cloudhoof was no ordinary steed.

On the crowded street, a mounted party thundered toward Ronin and his companions.

Pedestrians and carts scattered, terrified of provoking trouble.

“Ris is in a hurry again—looks like he’s off to fight!”

“Who’s the poor fool who angered Baron Ris? He’s doomed.”

“Doomed’s lucky. Last time some idiot struck one of Ris’s men, they say the baron beat him to death!”

Many recognized the rider. Whispers spread.

Ris Denis, Vittorino’s eldest son, the prodigy knight of Spike City’s youth—arrogant, brash.

He reined his steed to a stop before Ronin.

“You are Baron Ronin of Ubei?”

Luo Ning frowned slightly; there was a hint of provocation in the other’s tone, yet he had no idea who the man was.

“What do you want with me?” (End of chapter)