"Exhale! Inhale! Focus your mind! Watch the rhythm!"
At that moment, Weilin had stripped off his shirt, revealing the modest musculature he'd barely managed to develop after so many days of training. He sat cross-legged on the ground with his eyes closed, breathing deeply, the muscles across his body still trembling in time with his breathing rhythm.
"Wrong! Your abdominal muscles are shaking the wrong way!" Leilin flicked his wrist, and a wooden sword cracked down hard against Weilin's lower abdomen.
Weilin's face contorted in pain as his lower abdominal muscles clenched violently. Whoosh! Two streams of white air shot out from his nostrils.
"Got it? That's the feeling!"
Leilin tapped the wooden sword in his hand.
"Whew..." After completing a full round of Breathing Technique training, Weilin exhaled a long breath. Within the white mist, tiny black impurities could be seen. He opened his eyes.
"Are you a pig? Such a simple Breathing Technique, and it takes you ten days just to grasp the basics!"
Leilin launched into a tirade, while Weilin could only scratch his head with a bitter smile, apologizing profusely.
After so many days of training, he could clearly feel the improvement in his physical condition, and under the effects of the Breathing Technique, he could already sense a thread of warm current flowing ceaselessly through his body.
The intoxicating sensation this power brought swept Weilin away instantly. Even if Leilin wanted to kill him now, he wouldn't leave — death before retreat.
"Go! A thousand standard sword exercises, then five thousand deep squats!" Leilin pointed casually, and Weilin immediately scurried off eagerly.
"Who would've thought that a guy I casually took under my wing actually has some real talent?"
Watching Weilin drenched in sweat in the small training yard, a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Leilin's lips.
This Weilin was clearly very well-suited for the Knight's path. Leilin was certain that without the Chip, he himself probably couldn't have mastered the basics of the improved Cross Sword Breathing Technique in ten days or grasped even a thread of Life Spirit — yet Weilin had done it!
"Then again, this body's Knight talent was never that impressive to begin with. By comparison, Weilin's speed puts him among the very top geniuses of Knights. The only question is — what about his spiritual qualification?"
An ordinary person's spiritual qualification wasn't externally visible. Without specialized magic or auxiliary tools, even Leilin couldn't gauge someone's magical talent at a glance.
"It looks like I'll have to stay here a while longer..."
Leilin's expression darkened. Although he'd previously decided to set out in search of other Wizards' traces, the sudden emotional outburst from his Warlock bloodline had stalled his plans.
Now, on one hand, Leilin could only use mundane methods to gradually vent his various emotions, while on the other, he was actively concocting potions more advanced and effective than the Calming Potion to suppress the symptoms within his body.
His plans after the Dark Abyss concerned his future and the acquisition of an advanced Meditation Method. He absolutely could not allow himself to venture out in an extreme emotional state — otherwise, there was an eighty percent chance he'd end up like when he'd snatched the Wisdom Ancient Tree's essence, provoking universal wrath and being hunted by far more powerful beings.
Before he knew it, over six months had passed.
Without realizing it, Weilin had fully activated his Life Energy and become an official Knight. The entire process went so smoothly that even he himself hadn't noticed.
The poor fellow, seeing that he couldn't even take a single move from Leilin, assumed he was still just an ordinary person and kept striving toward the goal of becoming a Knight.
The only visible effect of his advancement to Knight was going from not being able to withstand a single strike from Leilin to barely lasting one blow before collapsing.
As for Lombard, Leilin hadn't seen him again recently. Apparently, the stubborn young man had attached himself to a merchant caravan heading to another city, still hoping to try his luck.
Unfortunately, Leilin had seen plenty of dreamers like this before — ninety out of a hundred would meet a violent end out in the world. Of the survivors, most became beggars, cripples, petty thieves, or criminals.
Only one in a hundred actually made it.
Weilin had briefly mentioned all this to Leilin, who promptly filed it away and forgot about it.
"Hah!"
Weilin swung the massive steel sword in his hands, its blade gleaming with a sharp, cold light, and charged toward Leilin with a roar.
"Die!" He brought the great sword around in a horizontal sweep, generating a fierce gust of wind.
Leilin, holding a wooden sword on the other side, shook his head. "Too many wasted movements!"
He thrust gently forward! The wooden sword pierced slowly into the massive curtain of steel.
The seemingly sluggish wooden sword flicked lightly, deflecting Weilin's steel blade to the side, then jabbed straight into the pit of Weilin's arm!
"Ugh..." Weilin grunted and collapsed to the ground.
"Terrible! Absolutely terrible!" Leilin said, offering no quarter in his criticism.