Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
The next morning.
As the first rays of sunlight streamed in, Garen had already completed his fourth set of Muscle Training. After a quick rinse in the bathroom, he retrieved two fresh cans from the storage cabinet and pulled out a book titled Tarot Beast Distribution before finally sitting down at the dining table.
Having just showered, Garen was only wearing a pair of shorts. The sunlight illuminated his upper body, making every muscle appear active and taut, outlining distinct lines that conveyed strength without being overly bulky, giving an impression of solid fitness.
“Hmm… here, and here, are areas where magical beasts frequently appear…” Garen said as he took a spoonful of beef and circled a spot on the map in the book with his index finger.
Just as Garen was about to turn the page, a sudden surge of tingling energy coursed through his body. His Fighting Spirit seemed to crystallize uncontrollably into a mass that began to spin rapidly!
However, just three seconds later, the Fighting Spirit inexplicably fell silent again.
“Surge of Qi?” After regaining his composure, Garen suddenly recalled something.
Indeed, according to the descriptions in the Fighting Spirit book, starting from level four warriors, whenever the Fighting Spirit accumulated to a certain extent, it would reach a critical point—commonly known as a bottleneck. Only by breaking through this bottleneck could one significantly increase their Fighting Spirit capacity and refine its quality.
The Surge of Qi indicated that his Fighting Spirit was very close to this critical point; it only appeared when there was a collision between the Fighting Spirit and that threshold.
After some contemplation, Garen felt reassured.
Although he had only recently reached level four, after several days of intense training, his Fighting Spirit had already solidified multiple times. Coupled with yesterday's exhilarating battle that had nearly depleted his Fighting Spirit, it was no surprise that now he had recovered even stronger than before.
Unfortunately, it seemed that this Surge of Qi was not powerful enough to completely break through the bottleneck.
After pondering for a moment, Garen quickly finished his breakfast, got dressed, and left the Rental Apartment. He headed out to buy ample food supplies, canned goods, and saltwater for the next few days.
Yes, Garen decided to temporarily set aside the task from Bounty House. While earning money was important, rapidly enhancing his strength was clearly the priority. After all, only with sufficient power could he capture more advanced magical beasts.
Upon returning to the Rental Apartment, Garen discovered a letter wedged in the door. After opening it, he saw that it was signed by Suddenly, who was Black Duncan.
The letter stated that Mayor Tutulu had concluded his town tour and would arrive in Blackstone Town in about three days. Garen was instructed to visit the mayor's office before noon on the third day to discuss matters regarding the position of academy instructor.
In simple terms, it was an interview. However, as Black Duncan was the mayor's right-hand man, he held significant influence, so the "matters" mentioned were likely just about salary negotiations.
After tossing the letter onto the windowsill, Garen dove straight into his training.
He reduced his usual six sets of Muscle Training, freeing up a substantial amount of time to focus on cultivating his Fighting Spirit. Coupled with high-calorie saltwater, eggs, and beef, Garen managed to maximize his training intensity without compromising his physical condition.
By noon on the second day, Garen felt confident about advancing. However, he realized that this would hinder his ability to stabilize his newly acquired Fighting Spirit quickly. After some contemplation, he decided to compress his Fighting Spirit significantly.
By the evening of the third day, Garen's Fighting Spirit had accumulated to a terrifying degree. Despite numerous compressions, it finally reached its critical point. The bottleneck that had eluded him three days prior felt like a thin membrane that could be easily pierced.
Qi Xuan expanded to twice its size as a surge of Fighting Spirit poured forth.
In front of the windowsill, illuminated by moonlight, Garen's figure stood even taller.
…
The next morning, Garen arrived at the mayor's office as scheduled.
It was a bright and spacious small building. Sunlight streamed through the arched floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating a short elderly man seated at a long table piled high with documents. Black Duncan stood beside him.
"Sir Garen!"
Black Duncan quickly pulled out a chair. "Mayor, this is the Garen I mentioned to you. He is absolutely qualified to be their instructor!"
Garen did not rush to sit down. In a deep voice, he introduced himself, "Hello, Mr. Mayor, I am Garen."
"Yes, Black Duncan has already informed me," Tutulu said as he set down his pen. "May I ask how long you have had experience as a mentor?"
"I have never been a mentor," Garen shook his head and added, "but I have served as an officer for many years."
A hint of helplessness crept into Tutulu's hoarse voice. "However, being a mentor and being an officer are not the same. The children in this town are just students, not soldiers."
"Or perhaps I should ask you this... what can you teach the children?"
Tutulu's question sounded somewhat rude but was understandable; after all, as the mayor, he had to be responsible for the academy's children. If he casually allowed an outsider to take on the role of a mentor, even if Garen agreed, the parents of the students would likely be dissatisfied.
Garen thought for a moment and replied, "I can teach them about justice."
"Justice?" Tutulu paused for a moment before unable to suppress a laugh. "I haven't heard about justice in years. With all due respect, that's quite an outdated skill!"
Noticing the awkward atmosphere, Black Duncan quickly signaled to Tutulu to ease up on his aggressive tone.
Tutulu shrugged. "Alright then, I'll give you a half-month trial period. If you encounter any issues during this time, you will be dismissed. Of course, if you pass, as agreed with Black Duncan, you will receive a monthly salary of 80 silver coins."
After filling out the employment form, Garen left the office.
Watching Garen's figure gradually disappear downstairs, Black Duncan sighed helplessly. "Mayor, you used to be quite just."
"If justice were effective, Baisaro wouldn't have become a Blood Slave, and neither would that traitor," Tutulu scoffed coldly.
"You mean... Strick?" Black Duncan was taken aback.
"I've told you many times, don't mention that name in front of me!" Tutulu's wrinkled face showed anger as he slammed the pen down on the table and walked to the window with his hands behind his back.
About ten seconds later, the mayor finally calmed down and suddenly said, "Actually, that guy isn't so bad."
Black Duncan finally reacted, grinning as he replied, "Yes, Sir Garen is quite excellent!"
Tutulu slowly turned around, squinting as he said, "But have you thought about what to do with Volikov? Although you've always looked down on him and think he's a bad influence on the kids, Dostodoro seems to like him a lot!"
Black Duncan did not refute this; he frowned slightly. "Yes, and Volikov is quite stingy."
Despite the earlier unpleasant conversation, Garen was not angry.
After all, serving as a mentor at the town academy was part of Black Duncan's "last wishes," and besides, the monthly salary of 80 silver coins was far less valuable than half a wolf's fang.
As he sat down at the dining table, the voice of the Holy War System suddenly echoed.
【Watchtower manuscript copied successfully... Converting to three-dimensional graphic...】
【Watchtower graphic conversion complete... Inputting into host's brain domain...】
A few seconds later, a dark yellow special Blueprint appeared in Garen's mind.
At Garen's mental summons, the Blueprint coalesced in front of him. Straight lines quickly organized themselves, and in the blink of an eye, it formed a semi-transparent three-dimensional lighthouse that presented itself before Garen.
"This is... the Watchtower!" Even Garen couldn't help but exclaim in awe.
From the outside, the lighthouse resembled an octopus. At its center was a thick pillar divided into seven large sections, from which branched out interwoven limbs, each forming a star shape. Under the illumination of the crystal at the top of the lighthouse, these limbs created small magical circles.
On the grand and intricate body of the lighthouse, exquisite patterns were carved—some depicting vast starry skies, others showcasing deep blue seas, or towering mountains...
As Garen gazed at these murals, he couldn't help but twitch his lips.
Just these murals alone must be worth tens of thousands of gold coins... More importantly, from the summary of the Blueprint's annotations, it seemed that these murals served no purpose other than aesthetics.
Kiran... was he worried that the warriors of Valoran would be in a bad mood upon their arrival?
Retrieving the three-dimensional Blueprint into the System, Garen pinched his brow tightly and let out a heavy sigh.
Although he had long suspected that the scale of the Watchtower was far beyond that of an ordinary lighthouse and that its construction costs would be astonishingly high, it wasn't until this moment that Garen realized he had still underestimated it.
Building such a lighthouse was simply impossible to achieve in a short time.
Even Garen felt an unprecedented pressure at this moment, one that made it hard for him to breathe.
Just then, a sound of crying drifted in from outside the window.
Garen felt somewhat annoyed as he reached to draw the curtains, only to discover that the one crying was Kailin. The little girl was crouched by a flowerpot, her delicate face filled with sorrow.
In the pot, the flower had finally wilted, its stems covered in yellow spots.
As Garen had once said, beautiful things will eventually fade away, and flowers are no exception.
Garen stood by the window, gazing for half a minute before suddenly turning around and quickly walking downstairs.
"Kailin, what's wrong?" Garen crouched down and gently touched the girl's head.
"Garen brother..." The girl lifted her head from her knees, her face streaked with tears. "The flower died... I didn't take good care of it..."
Seeing the little girl sobbing, Garen fell silent for a moment. Then he quietly extended his hand, channeling a vibrant Fighting Spirit into the wilted flower.
"Is that so?" Garen wiped away the girl's tear stains. "The flower looks beautiful when it blooms; lying isn't a good habit!"
"I'm not lying, but the flower really..."
Kailin's choked voice abruptly stopped. When she turned her head, she saw the wilted flower slowly standing upright, its yellowed marks gradually fading away, replaced by vivid colors.
"Wow! This... this..."
The little girl covered her mouth in surprise, staring in awe for a full half minute before suddenly breaking into laughter.
She clapped her hands, her laughter ringing like silver bells. "Garen brother, look! Look! The flower is alive!"
Garen watched the jubilant little girl, his gaze gradually becoming resolute.
Perhaps justice is about finding beautiful things in life and holding onto them in one’s own way, ensuring they do not ultimately fade away.
Even if beauty will eventually perish, one must still cherish its bloom.
"Since I have come to this world, then disasters shall not occur," Garen silently vowed to himself.
The afternoon sun shone down on the academy's playground.
Volikov had his legs propped up on a wooden table, leisurely sipping Wheat Beer, his mind drifting back to the woman he encountered yesterday at Iron Fist Tavern. Tsk, that figure was simply too alluring; it was a pity that one night cost two gold coins, nearly equivalent to his two months' salary.
Oh wait, it seemed like class was in session. Volikov turned his head and glanced at the children napping and playing on the grass, suddenly breaking into a mocking smile.
No, no, no, class time was meant for drinking. As for that group of Students… Hmph, what a shame. If they were just a bit older, Volikov might have been able to teach them "how to attract women with fine wine."
Just then, a tall figure approached.
"Hey, Black Duncan! Are you here to drink with me?" Volikov whistled and teased, "But what a pity, I'm currently in class!"
"Volikov! Is this how you conduct your classes?!"
Black Duncan glanced at the scattered bottles of alcohol; even behind that low wall, two children around eight or nine years old were holding small cups and drinking something, their flushed faces grinning foolishly.
"My class? When did it become your concern? Heh heh, only a level 3 Fighting Spirit master would say that. Wait until your Fighting Spirit reaches level 6 before you come talk to me!" Volikov sneered.
Black Duncan forcibly suppressed his anger and said in a low voice, "From this moment on, you, Volikov, are expelled!"
…
Half an hour later.
Volikov crouched by the riverbank, draining the last sip of Wheat Beer. His expression was dark, and his fists remained tightly clenched throughout.
How dare someone fire him? Was that old fool Tutulu blind? In this rundown town, could he find another level six warrior willing to teach?
And who had the audacity to take away his livelihood? Volikov took a deep breath, already resolved to teach that clueless "New Mentor" a lesson.
"Volikov, are you leaving?" A youthful voice interrupted his thoughts.
A boy of about eight or nine approached the riverbank, his slightly handsome face filled with discontent.
"Go back, don’t think you’re special just because you’re Tutulu’s..." Volikov shot a cold glance at him, suppressing the urge to give this boy, who dared to disturb him in his anger, a good thrashing.
But just then, an idea struck Volikov, and a smile quickly replaced his gloomy expression.
"Yes, Dostodoro. Your grandfather Mr. Tutulu seems dissatisfied with me. It looks like I won’t be able to teach you how to drink and fight anymore," Volikov said with feigned helplessness.
"But I don’t want you to go," Dostodoro frowned.
"Well... alright!"
Volikov pretended to struggle with the decision and softly said, "If you really don’t want me to leave, then..."
Comment 0 Comment Count