The rich aroma of roasted fish drifted lazily through the evening air, mingling with the faint scent of burning wood. Flickering firelight illuminated the village square as large platters of freshly cooked fish were carried out one after another by smiling women.
Villagers gathered in loose circles around the bonfire, sitting shoulder to shoulder. Some ate heartily, grease staining their fingers, while others chatted animatedly, laughter bursting out from time to time. Children darted between adults, their faces glowing red from the warmth of the fire and excitement of the feast.
"To our great Lord!" someone suddenly shouted, raising a wooden cup high into the air.
The shout was immediately echoed from all sides.
"To our great Lord!"
"To Lord Louis!"
Cups were lifted, clinked together, and tilted back. The atmosphere surged with warmth and enthusiasm, laughter rising and falling like waves crashing against the shore.
Louis sat at the head of the long wooden table, watching the scene unfold before him. Without realizing it, a gentle smile spread across his face.
Compared to the subtle scheming and veiled hostility of noble banquets in the southern lands—where every smile hid calculation and every toast carried ulterior motives—he much preferred this. Here, surrounded by ordinary villagers, laughing, singing, and feasting around a bonfire, everything felt honest and unburdened.
Perhaps influenced by the alcohol warming his veins, Louis casually accepted a wooden zither handed to him by one of the knights nearby.
The instrument was simple, its surface slightly worn from use, yet when Louis's slender fingers brushed across the strings, a series of clear, gentle notes flowed out.
The chatter slowly faded.
Louis lowered his gaze, memories stirring in his mind, and began to sing a folk song from his homeland—Earth.
"Edelweiss, Edelweiss,
Every morning you greet me…
Small and white, clean and bright,
You look happy to meet me…
Bless my homeland forever…"
His voice was calm and steady, carrying a faint warmth that drifted through the square like falling snow.
The villagers froze.
For a moment, it was as if time itself had stopped. Faces softened, eyes widened, and even the crackling of the bonfire seemed to quiet, as though the world was holding its breath.
When the final note faded into the night, the silence lasted only a heartbeat.
Then—
Cheers erupted like a tidal wave.
"Again!"
"Another one!"
"The Lord sings beautifully!"
"A toast to the Lord!"
The square exploded into noise and laughter once more. Even the most reserved knights couldn't suppress their smiles, some tapping their cups against the table in approval.
Louis laughed softly, shaking his head. He set the zither aside, picked up a piece of roasted fish, and took a bite. The crisp skin crackled under his teeth as the joyful noise washed over him.
He let the laughter, the warmth, and the simple happiness linger deep into the night.
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the narrow gaps in the curtains, landing squarely on Louis's face.
He groaned softly and rubbed his temples as he sat up.
"…I probably drank too much."
The faint scent of bonfire smoke still clung to the air, stubbornly refusing to disperse.
Normally, Louis woke before dawn without fail, using the early hours to practice his Breath Control Technique and cultivate his fighting qi. Discipline had been drilled into him since childhood.
But last night had been different.
Too lively. Too joyful.
For once, he had allowed himself to relax.
He instinctively reached out to the side of the bed, his hand brushing against cool sheets. Only after confirming that the other half of the bed was empty did he let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Thankfully… nothing improper had happened.
After washing up, Louis sat cross-legged on the bed. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly began circulating the Tidal Breathing Technique.
Fighting qi flowed through his body like a sluggish current, following familiar paths through his blood vessels and meridians.
But almost immediately, he felt it.
Stagnation.
That same invisible wall.
The bottleneck of the Intermediate Formal Knight realm.
No matter how many times he tried, no matter how strictly he trained, the barrier remained unmoved.
Louis clenched his fists.
Damn it.
When would he finally break through?
He had followed the harshest training regimens, pushing himself harder than most. Yet his aptitude was undeniably mediocre. For him, advancing through sheer effort was far more difficult than it was for others.
If only he could find another treasure like the Northern Crystal Cod…
His lips twitched bitterly.
Useless system. Can't you give me some real strength?
With a mix of irritation and habit, Louis opened the Daily Intelligence System, checking what new information had been updated.
[1: After the banquet, Agricultural Affairs Officer Mick proposed to Tanya and succeeded.]
[2: The Icefield Young Wolf "Cold Fang" defeated all young wolves raised in Red Tide Territory and became their Wolf King.]
[3: Sif, the former little princess of the Navajo Tribe, fled to Red Tide Territory. Exhausted and starving, she collapsed in the wilderness and will be devoured by a passing Frost White Bear at 5 PM.]
Louis raised an eyebrow at the first piece of intelligence.
That old fellow Mick… proposing?
The Agricultural Affairs Officer spent his days buried in soil and crop plans, his head constantly filled with calculations about land improvement and harvest yields. Louis had never imagined the man would quietly settle such a major life event.
Tanya…
Louis remembered her. A native widow in her early thirties with three children. She was resilient, capable, and efficient in her work, rarely complaining despite her burdens.
That Mick had managed to win her heart was genuinely surprising.
"Well," Louis muttered with a faint smile, "that's worth congratulating."
It seemed Red Tide Territory would soon gain a few more mouths—and hands—to support.
The second piece of intelligence brought no surprise at all.
Cold Fang becoming Wolf King was exactly as Louis had expected.
From the very beginning, that young wolf had stood out. Its size, posture, and piercing gaze all carried a wild, untamed authority far beyond its age.
"This is the war wolf I chose," Louis said quietly, nodding in satisfaction.
Then his eyes fell on the third line.
His smile vanished instantly.
"Sif… fled to Red Tide Territory?"
The words made his heart sink.
The Navajo Tribe.
Ever since the death of the old chieftain, the tribe had descended into chaos. The chieftain's family had been purged, the Elder Council stripped of authority, and powerful generals carved out their own factions.
Infighting, assassinations, shifting alliances—
If Louis had to summarize the situation in a single sentence, it would be this:
The Navajo Tribe was in complete disarray.
Yet even so, he hadn't expected the former little princess to flee all the way to Red Tide Territory—and collapse unconscious in the wilderness.
The most alarming part was the final line.
Devoured by a Frost White Bear at 5 PM.
Louis rubbed his brow, exhaling slowly.
"What in the world is going on…"
Before him lay two choices.
Save her.
Or don't.
If he chose not to act, everything would end quietly. The Navajo Tribe's troubles were far beyond simple, and Sif's involvement could invite unpredictable consequences.
She was already unconscious. If she died, it would have nothing to do with him.
A clean, simple outcome.
But Louis knew himself.
After a long silence, his fingers tapped lightly against the tabletop.
In the end, he made his decision.
First, Sif had already fled the power struggles of the Navajo Tribe. Saving her carried minimal immediate risk.
Second, while he wasn't a saint, his conscience wouldn't allow him to watch an innocent girl die when he had the ability to intervene.
Third—though distant and unrealistic—
What if one day, he possessed enough strength to influence the Navajo Tribe through her?
The thought was premature, bordering on fantasy.
But it lingered.
Louis stood.
"Lambert."
His Guardian Knight entered promptly and bowed. "My Lord?"
"I'm going hunting," Louis said calmly. "Make the preparations."
Lambert froze for a fraction of a second, surprise flashing across his face.
Since arriving in Red Tide Territory, his Lord had been consumed by administrative duties. He barely found time to rest, let alone hunt.
Yet Lambert asked no questions.
"As you command," he replied. "I'll arrange hunters and knights immediately."
Louis's gaze shifted toward the distant wilderness beyond the territory.
Five o'clock.
He intended to arrive well before then.
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