A rather simple swordsmanship, without any flashy moves, just some standard actions like slashing, cutting, and blocking…
It can be seen that the girl indeed practices swordsmanship regularly.
Such solid fundamentals are rarely practiced by people anymore.
Thanks to the tiger-skin coat and tiger blade, despite being scratched a few times on the back during the siege, the final outcome was relatively safe, with only minor injuries.
Moreover, the wounds were not deep, and a simple Level 4 “Healing Spell” was enough to recover.
With both hands glowing with the green light of healing, after confirming all wounds were healed, Eleanor cheerfully dismembered the dead Mid Tiger.
Although Mid Tigers are not as valuable as Double-Headed Tigers, they can still fetch a decent price.
Frugality is always a virtue, as if it’s ingrained in her bones—she loves the feeling of “looting” corpses like this.
This is all money, and shiny gold coins always look like good things no matter how you view them.
At the very least, she could cut off some meat for a barbecue—grilled meat is also a good thing, one of Miss Eleanor’s few hobbies.
After dealing with the Mid Tiger, the two continued along the path.
This trail, weathered by time, was a safe route proven by countless explorations of predecessors.
The fresh and clear wheel marks on the ground perfectly confirmed this.
However—
Miss Eleanor’s luck was never quite ordinary; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been stuck in the Forest of Fate for three years without seeing anyone.
Less than half an hour after continuing their journey, she saw a very familiar scene.
Another caravan was intercepted by tigers, though the quality of this caravan was far inferior to that of the slavers’ group.
A small caravan of only four people, whose configuration and equipment gave off the vibe of an adventurer team.
But a rather outdated one.
A shield-bearer holding an old round shield, a mage with a plain staff casting weak fireballs, and a priest flipping through a yellowed holy scripture…
The only one who looked decent was the swordsman wielding an exquisite, gleaming longsword, which seemed quite expensive, probably even a bit better than the tiger blade she had just used.
Eleanor scanned the four people’s information—they were all Tier 4 adventurers.
They were struggling to fend off a pack of Mid Tigers led by a Sabertooth Tiger.
“We’re gonna die, Captain! My mana’s almost drained! Do something, Captain, or we’re really gonna die!” cried the red-haired mage Lucy, holding the plain staff.
“Goddamn it, my freaking divine power’s running out too. My healing spell can last one more minute at most. If this keeps up, that tiger’s gonna get us!”
Said Jack, the dark-skinned man holding the holy scripture.
“Shield… Captain…”
The sturdy man holding the round shield looked helplessly at the sword-wielding youth.
The sword-wielding youth was their captain, a graduate of a noble academy and the strongest fighter in the team.
“Everyone, shut up! Save your strength and follow my lead. Max out your damage and buffs for as long as you can. I’m going up to take that beast down!”
Panting heavily, Nelson thrust his sword into the ground, narrowed his eyes with a ferocious look, and channeled all his remaining mana into his sharp blade.
This was their last stand. If they couldn’t take down the Sabertooth Tiger commanding from the rear, they’d likely all perish here.
The battle situation was far from optimistic, at least in Yvette’s view, as they were all stained with blood to varying degrees.
Combined with their exhausted mental states, it seemed they couldn’t defeat the tiger pack.
Eleanor turned back, looking at Yvette, whose face was full of worry, and blinked: “What do you think, little one?”
“I… I want to save them!”
Yvette replied softly, her tightly clenched fists showing her tension at the moment.
“If you want to save them, you’ll have to pick up your sword and fight.”
Eleanor looked at Yvette innocently, her fair face full of purity.
Looking at the sword spirit lady tilting her head in confusion, the girl didn’t know how to respond.
She knew that Teacher Eleanor didn’t like the feeling of blood on her body.
The number of Mid Tigers was indeed large, and there was a Tier 5 Sabertooth Tiger hiding in the back.
If Teacher didn’t act, she’d surely be heading to her death alone, even with the tiger blade and tiger-skin coat.
Without Eleanor’s shared full-class Level 8 abilities, she had no chance against the tiger pack.
Could it be that her previous performance didn’t satisfy Teacher Eleanor, and she was disappointed in her?
“Monsters are cold-blooded. They have no moral standards. All they care about is themselves. Even if their so-called kin die before their eyes, they won’t feel the slightest bit of heartache.”
Yvette suddenly recalled a sentence she read in a monster encyclopedia textbook in elementary school.
Could Teacher Eleanor, as a magic sword, be like a monster—cold-blooded and heartless?
Even if she died in front of her, would she just shake her head indifferently and go find the next swordmaster?
Or perhaps when Yvette was injured fighting those three Mid Tigers, she already wanted to leave, thinking she had no potential, no value to nurture, and was unworthy of being her swordmaster.
After all… Eleanor Lillian was just too dazzling, so dazzling that she felt completely unworthy of her.
The girl’s mood sank, and she instinctively looked at Eleanor.
Seeing Eleanor still just watching her, she lowered her head in even greater self-doubt.
Her light blue eyes began to glisten with tears.
She felt sorrow for her own incompetence.
If only she had performed better against those three Double-Headed Tigers…
If only her swordsmanship had been more outstanding when she was younger…
If only she had worked harder…
If only…
But the world has no room for regrets.
Perhaps her parents abandoned her because they thought she was talentless too.
From beginning to end, she was just a lonely person, uncared for, unloved.
She finally had a chance to prove herself, but she failed to seize it.
This might be her last chance.
Teacher Eleanor had given her excellent weapons and armor. If she could slay the tiger pack, maybe she could change her disappointed teacher’s mind.
Biting her lip, she took the tiger blade from her storage pouch, and the slave girl turned toward the caravan surrounded by the tiger pack.
Her hand holding the sword trembled—not out of fear of death, but out of fear of not earning the sword spirit’s approval.
With a heart as dead as ashes, the stubborn girl pressed forward.
The sword spirit lady, expecting a proud response in the final seconds, suddenly panicked.
“Huh?”
This wasn’t the plot I imagined.
Why is she going alone with tears in her eyes?
“Little one! Hey! Yvette—!”
A soft, delicate voice rang out, carrying a hint of panic.
Wasn’t she supposed to cling to my arm, act cute, and beg for help?!
“Yvette! Little Yi—!”
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