The reward for his choice from the Immortal Cultivation System was granted the moment the Knight announced, "The assessment is over."
Conformation evaluation, gait analysis, skeletal structure assessment, basic taming, athletic injury prevention, horseshoe care, stable hygiene, interpreting equine body language… All sorts of Horse Selection and Training Knowledge flooded into Murphy's mind like a tidal wave.
The process stuffed Murphy's brain so full it nearly crashed.
Even with the mental fortitude from his two lifetimes, he could barely withstand it.
Outwardly, he was swaying on his feet, on the verge of collapsing on the spot.
However, no one around him found it strange.
After all, Murphy had fainted before.
Fainting again after such a huge exertion of energy seemed perfectly reasonable.
Seeing this, Carter's lips curled into a smug smile. "Just a mud-leg, as expected. I really overestimated you."
The next test wasn't conducted by that Plate Armor Knight; he had already left the training grounds with the newly selected followers.
The one who came to take charge of the test was a middle-aged follower wearing Chain Armor, leading a brown Shire Horse by the reins.
The horse was tall and powerful, its shoulder height surpassing even some of the shorter boys.
The middle-aged follower briefly explained some key points of horse taming to the boys,
then ordered them to begin the practical taming test.
Most of the boys looked at each other in dismay. They couldn't remember what the follower had said after hearing it just once, let alone having to take a practical test with no prior experience.
'This is too hard.'
Carter, however, strode forward first. He took the reins from the middle-aged follower and, after just a few gentle pats, the horse obediently started walking with him.
Seeing how easily Carter handled it, another boy from a farming family immediately stepped up to imitate his actions and soothe the horse.
Who would have thought the Shire Horse would suddenly go berserk? It kicked out violently with its hind legs, threw its head high, and lashed out with its front hooves at the boy.
As if struck by lightning, the boy's chest caved in, and he collapsed, unconscious.
The middle-aged follower didn't seem surprised by this. He just said to the other boys with a blank expression, "You lot, carry him away."
The boys were terrified and hesitant to approach, afraid the Shire Horse would go wild again and attack them.
Carter stood aside with his arms crossed, watching coldly. 'Do they really think a good job like a Groom would fall into the hands of a mud-leg?' he thought.
'I'm only on good terms with John because I've already ridden him a few times, thanks to my father, the Sheriff.'
'How could these mud-legs possibly win John's approval so easily?'
Still, Carter didn't plan to stand by and do nothing.
He planned to wait until no one else dared to step forward before making his move.
His motive wasn't complicated; he just thought it would look cool.
Like one of those heroes from the biographies who always saves the day at the critical moment.
After that, a few more sons of farmers tried to approach.
But the Shire Horse, seemingly more agitated after having injured someone, wouldn't let anyone get close.
If the boys who tried next hadn't been cautious, more people would have likely been hurt.
Carter felt the time was right and was about to make his move when a voice rang out.
"I'll do it!"
Murphy, dressed in ragged, muddy sackcloth, stepped forward.
Carter immediately stepped in front of him to block his way. "Mud-leg, don't you touch John with your filthy hands."
He got angry every time he saw Murphy. The thought that he, the son of the Sheriff, had failed to become a follower and was instead relegated to being a Groom or a servant alongside this lowest, filthiest farmer's son, made him sick to his stomach.
He could barely tolerate the other farmers' sons who were slightly better off, but someone like Murphy? 'Absolutely not!'
'How did a dirt-poor person like him even pass the test?'
'Everyone else from a similar background was eliminated, yet this one who fainted from hunger somehow made it through.'
'Could it be the power of a Demon?'
As Carter thought this, he shifted his position to completely block Murphy's path.
Murphy, however, ignored Carter and spoke respectfully to the middle-aged follower. "Sir, may I go attend to my companion?"
The middle-aged follower raised an eyebrow slightly and answered flatly, "You may."
'I've lived for over forty years. What haven't I seen?'
'I see right through Carter's petty little schemes.'
'But I don't care. Life in the castle is dull, with precious little entertainment, and I've long since grown tired of it.'
'For me, this recruitment drive after the border war is like a grand entertainment show.'
'I enjoy watching the farmers' sons struggle, the middle class oppress them, and even their attempts at resistance.'
'It's all a delectable part of the performance.'
'Just like when a follower deliberately berated a dirt-poor boy like Murphy earlier, it was nothing more than a small, willful indulgence of those in power.'
'They just want to see more tragic, more desperate scenes to highlight their own superiority.'
'As for whether the farmers' sons who luckily break through and eventually join our ranks will harbor resentment?'
'In my experience, they never do.'
'Even if I don't know the term "convert's zeal," I understand the principle.'
'Why should you get an easy pass when I had to suffer so much to get to this position?'
'Those people will only become worse, oppressing the farmers' sons who come after them even more ruthlessly.'
'They'll try their hardest to curry favor with their colleagues, look down even more on those from farming backgrounds, and use a series of vicious methods to completely sever ties with their own origins.'
'If you were to ask why I know this so clearly?'
'It's simply the path I myself walked.'
Seeing that the middle-aged follower had spoken, Carter gritted his teeth and said no more. He had no choice but to step aside, glaring daggers at Murphy.
Murphy paid him no mind.
He couldn't care less what someone so inexplicably hostile was feeling.
He was simply marveling inwardly at the power of the Immortal Cultivation System.
Murphy had originally thought that the so-called "Initial Glimpse" of Horse Selection and Training Knowledge would be like a university student's studies—all theory and no practice.
But after truly receiving that knowledge, he realized he was wrong—terribly wrong.
This was clearly the kind of practical experience that only someone who had worked with horses for ten years could possess.
'Then again, if it were all just theory with no practical application, how could it be called an "Initial Glimpse"?'
'But it also seems a bit absurd that ten years of work only amounts to an "Initial Glimpse".'
'Whatever. I'll just ignore it.'
Murphy took a deep breath and walked past where Carter was standing.
Then he slowed his breathing and fixed his calm gaze on the restless Shire Horse.
Drawing on the knowledge that had flooded his mind, he turned his body slightly and slowly approached the horse's shoulder at a forty-five-degree angle.
That was the angle of approach at which a horse felt most at ease.
The Shire Horse, John, stomped his hooves restlessly, snorting heavily.
Just as Murphy was about to touch the reins, John suddenly reared up, letting out a high-pitched neigh. His bowl-sized front hooves sliced through the air, coming straight for Murphy's face!
"It's over!"
Several of the boys squeezed their eyes shut in fear, unable to watch the gruesome scene that was about to unfold.
The middle-aged follower narrowed his eyes, his right hand already on the short club at his waist. But after a moment's hesitation, he didn't move.
A cold sneer played on Carter's lips, as if he could already see Murphy's blood splattering on the ground.