“What’s this student’s name? Does she have a master? I know a little myself, want to be my apprentice?”
At this moment, the lazy, slouching teacher finally seemed to find some enthusiasm. However, Rosily paid him no mind at all.
Instead, under the gaze of the crowd, she walked over to Yelena, who had just managed to sit up.
Just when everyone thought Rosily was about to retaliate for Yelena’s earlier provocation, she did something even more baffling.
Rosily reached out her hand and placed it in front of Yelena, who kept her head lowered, her expression hidden.
“I don’t know why you hate me, either.”
“……”
“You’re hurt…”
“None of your business!”
Yelena bit her lip and slapped Rosily’s hand away.
She suddenly lifted her head and stared at Rosily.
In those eyes was a kind of purity that Yelena couldn’t comprehend, blocking the words in her mouth.
Suddenly, something caught her eye from the corner.
Her pupils contracted, and she staggered to her feet.
Ignoring the blood still oozing from her wound, she fled the scene alone, as if escaping.
Watching Yelena’s retreating figure, Rosily couldn’t help but have a thought.
Humans really are hard to understand.
In the stands, that young Kost—namely, the black-haired boy—had already placed his hand on the hilt of the sword hanging at his waist.
The talent Rosily had displayed with those last two strikes made his heart itch with anticipation.
He also wanted to go down and spar with this genius girl in swordsmanship.
The brown-haired boy beside him keenly noticed the change.
He pressed a hand over the black-haired boy’s gripping the sword hilt and said cheerfully,
“Picking on a beautiful young lady isn’t something a true expert would do, especially not someone who’s just set foot on the path of cultivation. Besides, isn’t the qualifying tournament in three months? You might have a chance to face off then.”
Hearing this, the black-haired boy let go of his sword.
In his eyes, Rosily was undoubtedly a swordsmanship prodigy.
If she hadn’t received guidance from some expert, being able to reach this level was simply too extraordinary.
And he, more than anyone, craved such geniuses.
Only by constantly defeating those labeled as prodigies, using them as stepping stones, could he reach the very top!
It was a pity about the genius from the Asades family.
He hadn’t even had the chance to fight him before the lord personally killed him. That was a regret in his heart.
“Huh? Looks like it’s the lord and the others.”
The brown-haired boy, sharp-eyed, spotted another entrance to the stands where three people stood: a young woman with wine-red hair, a middle-aged man with black hair, and an elderly man with white hair and beard.
Upon seeing them, the black-haired boy was the first to walk over.
The brown-haired boy narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, then quickly followed.
The black-haired boy stood before Henna and greeted respectfully,
“My lord, Principal.”
Henna and the elderly man both turned their gaze to the boy.
The black-haired boy bore an eight or nine-tenths resemblance to the black-haired middle-aged man, though their personalities were slightly different—the boy was stern and silent, while the man always wore a gentle, smiling expression.
Henna glanced at the boy, then turned to the middle-aged man and asked,
“Viscount Kost, this is?”
“This is my son, Ande.”
Viscount Kost patted his son’s shoulder with pride.
Henna gave the boy a closer look, then nodded in approval.
“Impressive presence. The future holds promise.”
“Hahaha, the lord says you have a bright future ahead! Aren’t you going to thank her?”
Viscount Kost seemed very pleased with the praise, grinning widely.
The black-haired boy named Ande, however, did not smile, only replied calmly,
“Thank you, my lord.”
He understood exactly what “the future holds promise” meant.
Henna didn’t care much about their subtle expressions.
She turned her gaze to Rosily in the arena.
If she hadn’t just witnessed this girl’s fight, perhaps her evaluation of Ande would have been even higher.
Madam Phil’s daughter—who would have thought she was so gifted?
It’s a pity she lacks the bloodline… No, perhaps she can break through the limits of bloodline, just like that silver-haired Sword Maiden?
The future is uncertain, so it’s too soon to draw conclusions!
In Henna’s understanding, Madam Phil was likely one of Princess Vivienne’s people.
Rosily’s swordsmanship might well have been taught by that unfathomable maid at Princess Vivienne’s side.
So Henna wasn’t all that surprised by Rosily’s talent.
However…
She looked at Yelena’s departing back and couldn’t help but sigh.
Why does it have to be her? My head aches just thinking about it.
“I am Lord of Asades. My name is Roland, from the Ophield Family of White Stone City.”
The brown-haired boy suddenly jumped out, introducing himself to Henna with a striking familiarity, and immediately exposed Viscount Kost’s little act.
“Haha, originally Ande and I arranged to have a spar, but our junior schoolmates arrived first, so we watched for a bit. Who would have thought we’d meet you here, my lord? Truly my good fortune!”
Ande’s expression remained unchanged, but Viscount Kost’s smile faded considerably.
He sized up the boy who claimed to be from White Stone City’s Ophield Family.
“A fine young man, haha.”
Roland smiled and nodded, not bothering with further pleasantries.
It was clear he didn’t intend to show much respect.
Henna looked at him, nodded slightly, and didn’t pursue the conversation further.
Glancing back at the arena, she saw Rosily and a brown-haired girl together, chatting and laughing, looking like they got along very well.
Henna then looked again at the self-proclaimed Roland, considering a few things in her heart.
White Stone City bordered Red Pine City, and the Ophield Family held a status in White Stone City akin to that of the Kost Family here—only they were a newly risen noble house.
Are they trying to place some weight on my side?
After that, Henna and Viscount Kost left together.
Even the elderly, white-haired principal of Red Pine City Magic School did not follow.
They had important matters to discuss.
…
“My lord, please do not act in rebellion. Maintaining the current order is what’s best for Red Pine City. Hunters should hunt for generations, let them hunt. Farmers should farm for generations, let them farm.”
“The Empire’s strides are too great; collapse is inevitable. Just like the Golden Empire a thousand years ago—banning religion, reclaiming noble lands, unifying currency and script—only to fall in fifteen years. The same fate awaits the West Wind Empire. All we need to do is wait.”
“Right now, the West Wind Empire is held up by the Emperor alone, but he is old and will die sooner or later. When the West Wind Empire collapses, perhaps we can get a share of the spoils. My lord, don’t you want to revive the declining Asades family?”
Viscount Kost spoke at length, but Henna found it difficult to agree with his views.
Viscount Kost was just the representative of the conservative nobles in Red Pine City.
Conservative, conservative—his thinking was truly conservative.
To preserve their class, they demanded that the world never change from the old ways.
Henna had been to the Empire and seen with her own eyes the policies Princess Vivienne had tried out in several northern cities.
She knew the West Wind Empire was not the Golden Empire of a thousand years ago.
Besides, even if the West Wind Empire did collapse, Princess Vivienne and that Crown Prince would still be there.
As long as they exist, the most that would happen would be a standoff between north and south.
There would be nothing left for the “vultures”!
The old money of the conservatives refuses to invest, while new money from other regions is just about to flood in.
What choice should I make?
It all comes back to the original question—I have no money!
Names are off in this chapter
fixed