“You misheard, ahem.” Sheffield tried to cover up.
“Are you hiding something? You’re actually keeping things from me? Did you forget our oath from thirty years ago?” Xiadam pressed.
“I haven’t forgotten. We swore to cross the barrier between races, and from now on never deceive each other,” Sheffield replied hurriedly.
“Did you get your brain fried by the Supreme Sage’s evil arts?” Xiadam questioned.
“Before, I was a Dragon, you were Human, our minds were connected and we didn’t even need to speak. But now you’re Human, and so am I. We no longer have that Mind Reading we once shared, so we have to actually talk things out—how troublesome is that?” Sheffield argued.
“…Hmm.” Xiadam felt that made some sense.
“I didn’t hide anything from you. I just figured out what your White Mist is, that’s all.”
“Ah? Why didn’t you tell me something so important sooner?”
As soon as she heard it, Xiadam panicked and pounced on Sheffield, grabbing her by the neck and wrestling her down on the bed.
She knew Sheffield definitely hadn’t just figured it out.
This was the White Dragon King! A Magic-user among the Ancient Dragons!
Sheffield must have realized the truth right away, just kept it hidden from her.
“Don’t think you’re the only one who understands me. I know you well too, you little trickster.”
Xiadam locked her in a powerful grip, using relentless grappling techniques to pin Sheffield down on the bed.
Of course, Sheffield was just playing along.
She could pinch a sword between two fingers; among Ancient Dragons she was considered frail, but among the Human Race, she was a mighty powerhouse.
Unless Sheffield allowed it, who in the world could restrain her?
So rather than a fight, this was basically just flirting!
The Fat Little Dragon, sleeping at the head of the bed, was jolted awake by their ruckus.
What an embarrassingly lovey-dovey couple!
It glanced up, let out a sigh through its little Dragon mouth, pretended nothing was happening, and went back to sleep.
In the end…
It was Xiadam, the one doing the pinning, who tired out first, collapsing in exhaustion, while Sheffield easily slipped out of her hold without moving a muscle.
“Can you tell me now? My White Mist, what exactly is it?” After catching her breath, Xiadam flipped over and asked.
“That’s an ancient legendary Magic that only Human-Dragon Hybrids have a tiny chance to awaken. Its name is the Sea Abyss Witch’s Stance.” Sitting at the bedside, Sheffield didn’t even break a sweat, answering in an exaggeratedly deep tone.
“Ancient? Legendary! Sea Abyss Witch! Stance?” Xiadam perked up at once, turning over, face full of surprise and delight.
She grabbed Sheffield’s shoulders, hanging onto her, clinging like sticky candy.
“I’ll tell you if you promise to cook me a good meal.” Sheffield just didn’t want to see her looking so smug, so she held out.
“That’s way too easy. Wait till tonight, I’ll make you a big pot of stewed meat.” Xiadam agreed right away.
Sheffield wasn’t used to the food at the Lord’s mansion—the portions were just a bit too small, and everything was too fancy.
Normally, elaborate food was a good thing, showing respect for the guest.
But Sheffield preferred hearty stews and big bites of meat and soup.
“The Sea Abyss Witch’s Stance is a special ability that can block or dissolve any kind of magic power. Even I can’t mimic or copy it; it’s an innate power of yours,” Sheffield said.
“Yay?” Words couldn’t describe Xiadam’s delight.
She sat in a daze on the bed, hugging the Fat Little Dragon, clamping it between her thighs, striking a strangely girlish pose.
But soon, Xiadam’s gaze turned cold and sharp, the fire in her heart rekindling.
She connected all her abilities in her mind.
She wasn’t a failure. She was a true genius.
As long as she was sure of that, as long as she knew her efforts wouldn’t go to waste, she couldn’t let herself be dispirited anymore.
Gently putting the Fat Little Dragon back at the head of the bed, she sprang up, flipped over the back of the sofa to sit, and began meditating, closing her eyes and focusing, starting to practice with the Strength Scroll.
Xiadam poured her magic power into her body to strengthen herself.
Her fair skin gave off a faint White Mist, as if about to ignite.
She learned the Power Enhancement Technique in an instant, after all, its principle was exactly the same as the Weapon Enhancement Technique.
But being able to cast a spell didn’t mean you could use it in battle—it still required proficiency before it was combat-ready.
This kind of general-purpose spell was easy to learn but extremely difficult and tricky to use.
It’s not like the Elemental Attack Spell, such as the Fireball Spell.
A Pyromancer, once they’ve mastered it, just has to aim and throw.
Not that the Fireball Spell doesn’t require practice, but relatively, it needs less.
(It’s like the difference between a Crossbow and a Bow and Arrow. Load a bolt into a crossbow, even a child can use it, but a bow requires long training to master.)
There were only a few days left until my old comrade’s Hundredth Birthday.
I must seize the time and can’t let my brother down.
So, except for cooking Sheffield a big pot of pork stew for dinner, Xiadam spent almost every waking moment practicing Strength Magic, boosting her spell proficiency.
Even when sleeping, she maintained a meditative state, keeping the strength boost active, accumulating experience continuously.
This was one of the major traits that set Magic-users apart from ordinary people.
That is, Magic-users could effectively use their sleeping hours, gaining a whole third more training time than regular folks.
During this period, Sheffield took care of the little one, drilling the Fat Little Dragon with high-intensity training every day.
“Don’t even think about sleeping, don’t even think about slacking off, get up and practice Dragon Breath.”
It was supposed to be a duel of breaths, but in reality, it was just one-sided blasting, since the little black Dragon didn’t know how to spit Dragon Breath at all and could only turtle up and endure it.
“Squawk!”
The Fat Little Dragon was hit so hard its limbs stuck out, sprawled on the coffee table, tongue lolling.
Its Gravity Magic was also improving rapidly, even if it was being forced out of it.
Meanwhile…
The Campaign Knights Third Company Commander, Old Lord Osiris, was also undergoing rehabilitation training.
The ninety-nine-year-old old man had resolutely joined the Defensive Knights’ daily regimen: swinging his sword a thousand times, running ten laps around the city.
This stunned the younger Defensive Knights, as well as his son, Lord Lavini.
“Father, your Hundredth Birthday is almost here. You should enjoy yourself—don’t wear yourself out every day.” Lord Lavini ran with his father around the city wall, speaking softly.
“You brat, what nonsense are you talking? Are you saying your old man can’t do it anymore? I could take on ten of you right now!” Osiris roared in anger at once, scolding loudly.
He stopped right then, picked up two wooden sticks, tossed one to his son, then gave him a thorough beating.
He truly valued fairness—such an energetic old man.
Outside, Old Lord Osiris was nothing like the refined and gentle man he was around Xiadam.
In fact, he was infamous for his fiery temper. Every Defensive Knight had been beaten by him at least once.
But every Defensive Knight admired the Old Lord!
If you hadn’t been beaten by the Old Lord, you weren’t qualified to call yourself a Knight.