The air after the rain was always fresh, the sky as if washed by water, displaying a faint blue.
A few white clouds drifted lazily, still carrying the moisture of raindrops.
The sky gradually brightened.
Last night, the girl and the sword spirit, after wandering around, found a relatively intact carriage and spent the night in a not-so-large tent.
If you ask where a tent came from in the middle of a wild forest?
Well, you’d have to mention Miss Eleanor’s almost instinctive skill for looting corpses.
Thanks to the powerful boost of her LV8 proficiency in all classes, Eleanor easily broke the mental seal on the dead slaver’s storage bag.
The slaver, who had done evil his whole life, made some contribution after death—at least the items in his storage bag solved Miss Eleanor’s urgent needs.
Several exquisite tents, a few thick quilts, and even some brand-new, still-packaged bedding.
There were also a few shiny gold coins stamped with the current pope’s portrait, along with various odds and ends.
Among them, a blood-stained whip stood out.
A sword.
Its owner must have used it frequently.
“Disgusting.”
Eleanor unhappily pursed her lips, pulled the blood-stained whip from the storage bag, summoned flames, and burned it to ashes.
Looking at the scattered limbs and body parts around the slaver, indistinguishable from their owners, Eleanor’s mood grew complicated.
What a pitiful group of people.
Eleanor’s heart felt heavy.
She didn’t like the scene before her, despite being a magic sword.
Magic swords were supposed to be warlike and bloodthirsty, but she felt no such thing—only sadness.
In a calm but firm tone, she instructed Yvette to turn around.
Eleanor began praying for the dead, even though her memories suggested that a place like heaven didn’t exist.
But… those who fought so hard to live shouldn’t end up in a void after death.
Believing they could ascend to heaven and enjoy endless riches was, for the living, a form of solace.
After praying, green light glowed in Miss Eleanor’s hands.
Vines sprouted from the ground, pulling the bodies of the deceased into the earth—except for the slaver and his accomplices.
Burial in the earth was the highest respect for the dead in the continent of Latisil, symbolizing the soul’s return to its homeland.
For those steeped in sin, the people of Latisil preferred cremation.
To burn away their sinful souls in flames, cutting off any chance of reincarnation for evil.
And so.
Flames ignited in Eleanor’s hands.
When the dust settled, Eleanor turned and saw the girl bowing her head in prayer, facing her.
“Let’s go, little one. Kids shouldn’t look at these things too much—it’ll keep you up at night.”
Seeing no response from the girl, Eleanor took her hand.
When pulling didn’t work, she gently clasped it.
Only when their fingers interlocked did Yvette snap out of it, feeling the soft warmth in her palm. She grew a bit uneasy.
“T… Teacher?”
Yvette trembled slightly.
“Let’s go, kid. Why so sentimental? Come on, let’s deal with the two-headed tiger’s corpse. If we have enough materials, I can make you some clothes.”
Miss Eleanor’s tone was a bit helpless. Unlike her earlier somber mood, dwelling in sadness wasn’t her style.
Besides, her sword master Yvette urgently needed proper clothing.
The girl’s previous clothes were already tattered from battle, covered in mud, looking like a roadside beggar.
Eleanor had rummaged through the slaver’s belongings but found no decent clothes—just a bunch of outrageously provocative outfits that made her blush just looking at them.
There was no way Eleanor would let Yvette wear those.
The little one should stay cute and innocent.
Those suggestive outfits?
Not even when she grows up… no, not ever.
What’s that saying?
“Common folk, feudal relics.”
That’s exactly the kind of person Eleanor was.
Eleanor skillfully disassembled the two-headed tiger’s corpse—first the hide, then the teeth.
The claws, though a bit damaged, could still fetch some coin.
The two-headed tiger was dismantled cleanly.
Anything worth selling was carefully taken and stuffed into the storage bag.
Next, it was time to prepare materials to make clothes for Yvette.
Thanks to her versatile priest class, the process was quite simple in Eleanor’s hands.
No need for tedious needlework like traditional craftsmen—just visualize the general design in her mind.
The noble life magic “Clothing Creation” would automatically handle the tedious details.
Though not as refined as handmade work, it was decent enough.
Out of Miss Eleanor’s personal taste, she added a hood with a pair of tiger ears.
From a white-furred hamster to a white-furred tiger cub—still adorably irresistible.
Girls really do look better when dressed up.
Looking at Yvette, who was touching the tiger ears on her hood, Miss Eleanor gave a satisfied smile.
As expected of the sword master she chose—so cute.
Thinking this, Eleanor instinctively reached out and patted Yvette’s fluffy head, sizing up the dressed-up girl before speaking:
“Stick close, little tiger. If you get lost, your teacher won’t be responsible for finding you.”
“Oh… okay!”
Yvette nodded dazedly, seemingly unaccustomed to her new nickname.
Watching Eleanor, who looked satisfied after sizing her up and turned to lead the way, Yvette suddenly felt like she was being scrutinized by an old mother checking on her daughter.
Though, at 150 cm, Miss Eleanor looked more like the daughter.
But… Eleanor seemed too radiant, confident, and at ease.
With her hands behind her back, head slightly raised, humming a tune Yvette had never heard, she walked ahead cheerfully, paving the way.
She seemed to be in a great mood.
And indeed, Miss Eleanor was in high spirits.
Though restricted by that damned scabbard, she had finally escaped it.
She’d also found a sword master who was both cute and talented.
A bit silly, sure, but at least pleasing to the eye, right?
Besides, there were advantages to a silly sword master.
Training her into a master would feel even more rewarding: “Look, that peerless sword saint? I trained her!”
The wait had been worth it.
Eleanor thought contentedly, leisurely planning the route according to the map’s directions.
The map was vague, but Eleanor handled such situations with ease.
With her soft white hair, her pale hands flashed with various lights, parting the obstructing bushes.
Watching the sword spirit clear the path ahead, Yvette suddenly felt like she was watching a squirrel in the woods.
Honestly, Yvette didn’t quite understand why Eleanor seemed so happy.
But that wasn’t important.
Eleanor was happy—that was what mattered.
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