Translator: CinderTL
As the heavy wooden door slowly closed, silence once again enveloped the room.
Colin's words had struck Roland like a hammer, completely dispelling his drowsiness and weariness.
He took a deep breath and slowly sat down on a wooden chair, his slender fingers rhythmically tapping the wooden table in front of him.
As the crisp sound echoed through the room, his thoughts began to race.
"According to Colin, if I agree, I can study at a Knight Academy in the River Domain Nations."
"Compared to earning a noble title through military merit in the Golden Valley Kingdom, this path is indeed easier and faster. But..."
Roland's brow furrowed slowly.
He knew there was no such thing as a free lunch.
If it were just about giving up his status as a commoner in the Golden Valley Kingdom, he wouldn't feel much regret. After all, he had only been in this world for less than a year, and this land hadn't yet fostered a deep sense of belonging within him.
While he had made many like-minded friends here, the Golden Valley Kingdom had maintained friendly relations with the River Domain Nations for decades, so armed conflict seemed unlikely.
But beyond that, going to the River Domain Nations meant facing unfamiliar customs, social systems, and, undoubtedly, hidden demands from Colin.
After weighing the pros and cons repeatedly, Roland's gaze gradually hardened with determination.
"Let's go to the River Domain Nations! Whatever conditions Colin has, we can clarify them later. Compared to the arduous path of obtaining a Knight's Breathing Technique in the Golden Valley Kingdom, the River Domain Nations offer a more direct and efficient route!"
"Besides, wouldn't serving on the border come with its own set of conditions? And..."
Recalling the rumors he'd heard recently about the River Domain Nations, Roland stopped tapping his fingers on the table.
"Compared to the Golden Valley Kingdom's deeply entrenched noble system, the River Domain Nations' model of joint governance might offer me more room for development."
"Even if I become a transcendent professional, I'd likely face constant restrictions in the Golden Valley Kingdom. It's better to try my luck in the River Domain Nations!"
Having made up his mind, Roland, while still relatively clear-headed, picked up the scroll containing the combat technique Arc Moon Draw and slowly unfurled it on the wooden table.
He frowned, studying the scroll intently.
After a moment, a slight smile curved Roland's lips, and satisfaction lit his face.
This combat technique, Arc Moon Draw, truly lived up to his expectations. When mastered, it could achieve the effect of using a mere four ounces of force to deflect a thousand pounds.
The essence of Arc Moon Draw was both simple and complex.
It was complex in its timing, yet simple in its underlying principle.
The key lay in "Perceiving the Momentum" and "Borrowing the Force."
"Perceiving the Momentum" means using the keen insight of a hawk to instantly grasp the trajectory of an enemy's strength flow the moment their attack begins, identifying its most vulnerable point.
"Borrowing the Force" requires nimble wrist movements, not to block head-on but to gently redirect the enemy's attack by following its momentum.
Like water encountering a rock, it doesn't clash directly but flows around its sharp edges, then guides the current.
With precise timing, even a fingertip touch can disrupt their balance.
A slight pull is all it takes to throw the opponent off balance, exposing a fatal opening in their attack.
For ordinary practitioners, mastering this combat technique would be fraught with obstacles. Both "Perceiving the Momentum" and "Borrowing the Force" demand extensive combat experience and years of rigorous training.
But for Roland, these challenges were as effortless as reaching into a bag and pulling out what he needed.
First, in "Perceiving the Momentum," he simply activated his [Focus] state, allowing his mind to race at high speed and effortlessly grasp the shifting tides of battle.
As for the complex wrist movements required for "Borrowing the Force," they were child's play under the influence of [Twin Performance].
The extraordinary flexibility granted by this additional boost allowed Roland to perfectly replicate the complex techniques described in the scroll, movements that would be impossible for ordinary people.
With this thought, Roland immediately drew his Mithril Longsword and began practicing.
The soft hiss of the blade slicing through the air was followed by a flurry of wrist techniques, most of which he mastered within moments.
But as he sheathed his sword, Roland frowned slightly.
The Arc Moon Draw he had just performed lacked the swirling vortex that Gondar had created during their battle, the force that had pulled his weapon toward him.
In comparison, Roland's version felt more like a refined parrying technique, far less capable of completely deflecting attacks, let alone sending his opponent flying.
"Perhaps my mastery isn't yet complete," he murmured to himself, temporarily setting aside his doubts.
As his spirit relaxed, the exhaustion from the fierce battle washed over him again like a tidal wave.
He sighed deeply and collapsed onto the soft bed. Colin's words from earlier echoed in his mind.
"Mr. Colin seemed to imply that there are multiple Knight's Breathing Techniques circulating among the River Domain Nations, and that these techniques differ in certain ways..."
"So, what criteria are used to classify these breathing techniques? Ah, right..."
Roland's brow furrowed slowly as he recalled the meaningful glances Gondar and Colin had exchanged before parting.
"Tonight... could something be about to happen?"
"Why would Lord Gondar and Mr. Colin both warn me not to go out?"
Despite his growing unease, Roland's tense nerves gradually relaxed as he recalled the heavily armed elite guards at the Sea Pearl Pavilion and Gondar's display of formidable strength as a transcendent professional.
Before long, his breathing became even and deep, and he drifted into slumber.
He didn't know how long he slept, but Roland suddenly snapped awake.
Yawning wearily, he sat up and stretched his limbs.
"My strength should be about eighty percent restored."
Feeling the power coursing through his body, Roland mused,
"It seems that after activating Battle Frenzy, my recovery rate is even faster than I expected, as long as I don't exceed my body's limits."
As he pondered this, a sharp pang of hunger struck his stomach.
"I should probably take care of that first."
Glancing at the dim twilight outside the window, Roland shook his head and walked toward the door.
His footsteps fell on the silky carpet, producing a faint rustling sound.
But the sound lasted only a few seconds before abruptly ceasing.
Roland stopped abruptly, his brow furrowed as he strained to hear any movement around him.
After a moment of silence, he slowly drew his Mithril Longsword from his waist, his vigilance instantly spiking to its peak.
The reason was simple: the silence around him was utterly unnatural.
If only the Sea Pearl Pavilion were quiet, that would make sense, as it was currently serving as King Monen's residence.
But the entire Far Ocean Port had fallen into a deathly stillness, which was highly unusual.
He clearly remembered Darco saying that the Sea God Festival, the port's most important annual celebration, usually kept the locals celebrating until late into the night.
Yet the sky outside was still bright, far from midnight.
Thinking this, Roland lightened his steps and moved to the window, cautiously peering out.
The scene before him froze him in place.
The entire street seemed to have been instantly frozen by some invisible force.
The festive banners still fluttered gently in the breeze, and the lanterns, yet to be extinguished, cast a warm glow in the twilight. Yet the bustling streets were deserted.
The food on the stalls still emitted wisps of steam, and overturned wine cups dripped slowly across the wooden tables, as if someone had been drinking heartily just moments ago.
Scattered streamers and masks lay haphazardly on the ground, as if a reveling crowd had been abruptly torn away by some unseen force.
Even more eerily, some places showed signs of mid-action interruption.
The curtain of a puppet theater had been only half-raised, with the puppet's arm still suspended in mid-air. The fish skewers on a roadside grill were charred on one side, yet no one had turned them. Even a chair swayed slightly, as if someone had hastily risen and left just moments before.
The entire city seemed to have been frozen in time, leaving only Roland standing by the window, gazing at this sudden, unnatural stillness.
An icy chill crawled up his spine and prickled at the back of his neck.
His gaze drifted involuntarily toward the hanging rope by the wall.
There, a brass bell hung, its surface gleaming with an eerie light in the dimness.
(End of the Chapter)