"How could I not understand?" Leon found it somewhat amusing inwardly. It wasn't intentional disdain, but as a returnee who had once glimpsed the melody of the world, the combat technique relying on crude energy pathways before him truly seemed as clumsy and naive as a child swinging a wooden sword in his eyes.
The sea of knowledge in his memory naturally included ancient methods for efficiently tempering the body, guiding life energy, and even combining it with elements—those were often body-forging arts prepared for guards among followers or elite troops of vassal races. Even the most basic "Seven Stances of Wind-Breath Body Tempering" among them, with the subtlety of its breathing coordination and energy circulation, was far beyond the combat technique the young woman practiced, which relied on merely a few simple pathways.
That was the "path of force" prepared for those who couldn't delve deep into meditation to perceive elements, not the "path of principle."
However, Leon had no desire to argue, much less reveal his identity as a mage. Maintaining a low profile was wise when his strength was not yet restored and he knew nothing of the local powers. So, he went along with the other party's preconception, his tone flat:
"I truly do not understand combat techniques. I was shaking my head earlier because I was thinking of other matters. My apologies for the disturbance."
"You don't understand, so don't randomly..." Liana was about to continue when the elder gently interrupted.
"Liana." The elder's voice carried the steadiness of one long accustomed to high position. "Since this gentleman has already apologized."
"Yes, Grandfather." Liana complied, turning to glare at Leon—her meaning clear. Then she turned and walked back to the elder's side.
Leon shook his head inwardly. What an undeserved calamity. He had only wanted to find a quiet place to meditate.
His gaze swept over the elder in the deep brown robe again. Concentrating his perception, he indeed discovered that the "energy" flowing within the elder was far more robust and condensed than the young woman's. Although the operational method still seemed crude in Leon's eyes, the "quantity" was considerable. Purely in terms of energy intensity, it was roughly equivalent to the mid-stage of a magic apprentice capable of consistently performing cantrips. As for Liana, she hadn't even touched the threshold.
Of course, mages and these "knights" or "combat technique practitioners" who relied on tempering the body and stimulating life energy couldn't be so simply compared.
It was like comparing pig iron to hundred-fold refined steel. No matter how large the pig iron lump, a steel blade could cleave it. A mage's power stemmed from understanding and mastering the world's rules, a meticulous control of the boundless elemental energy external to them; whereas a warrior's power came from tapping their own limited potential. There existed a fundamental difference in the "quality" and "potential" of their power.
Someone like the elder before him might surpass the current Leon in close-quarters combat, strength, and endurance. But Leon had at least ten methods to end the fight without letting the other get close.
Having clarified this, Leon's curiosity waned. He no longer paid attention to Liana, who was continuing to adjust her stance. He found a flat stone under another ancient oak tree, sat down cross-legged, and prepared for today's meditation.
Soon, he entered a deep state. The "Root Forging Art" circulated. His consciousness sank into the initially stable, vortex-like magic core. His spirit slowly extended, capturing and attuning to the sparse, low-activity elemental particles in the air. His breathing became long and drawn out, carrying a strange rhythm. The rise and fall of his chest was almost imperceptible, yet the already thin flow of elements around him seemed to develop an extremely faint tendency to converge towards him with this breathing.
This peculiar "stillness" naturally caught the attention of the elder and Liana.
Who came to a lakeside grove only to sit motionless like a statue?
"Hmm?" After observing for a while, Elder Roland let out a soft exclamation, his gray-white eyebrows lifting slightly.
"What is it, Grandfather?" Liana stopped adjusting her thrust's point of force application and followed her grandfather's gaze. She saw only that annoying civilian boy sitting still with closed eyes, nothing special.
"Look at him carefully, child. Pay attention to his 'presence,'" Roland's initially casual expression faded, replaced by a trace of seriousness.
"Presence?" Liana, puzzled, examined him again. Apart from thinking he sat particularly steadily, particularly "still," she found nothing.
"Pay attention to the air around him, how the light falls on him," Roland prompted in a low voice, his gaze sharp. "Close your eyes. Feel with your 'heart.'"
Skeptical, Liana closed her eyes, trying to block out distractions and focus her attention towards Leon's direction. At first, nothing. But gradually, an extremely subtle, indescribable feeling emerged. The still-sitting figure seemed to have developed some extremely faint "resonance" with the surrounding trees, soil, and air. The elemental flow in that small space he occupied seemed to become... slightly more "viscous"? The light falling on him also seemed slightly dimmer than elsewhere, not like a shadow, but as if lightly absorbed by something invisible.
"This is..." Liana opened her eyes, her sapphire-blue eyes filled with shock and doubt.
"A very advanced... let's call it 'meditation' or 'spiritual cultivation' method," Roland said slowly, his tone carrying recollection and uncertainty. "I once heard an old knight from deep within the empire, a man of broad experience, mention that in some ancient, secret traditions, there exist cultivators who do not rely on tempering the body but focus on tempering spirit and will. They could synchronize with the world's 'breath' in a special way, even... guide subtle forces. I never thought I'd witness something similar in the Northlands, on someone so young."
"He's just sitting steadily, breathing a bit strangely," Liana pouted, though inwardly she wasn't as dismissive as her words suggested. The strange feeling unsettled her, but more than that, it provoked defiance. "Maybe he's just putting on a mystical act. Rex is also good at lurking and standing still, isn't he?"
The Rex she mentioned was the sharp, silent guard standing not far away, steady as a rock. He had also noticed the conversation, his gaze locking onto Leon again, his posture adjusting slightly. His right hand hung casually by his side, but it was now closer to the sword hilt at his waist.
"You, spoiled child, don't know the immensity of heaven and earth," Roland shook his head helplessly, his eyes holding affection. "The true horror of 'spiritual cultivators' is hard to describe. According to that old knight, the profound ones could even daunt the spirit with a glance or influence reality with will. Although this gentleman before us is young, to achieve this step is already extraordinary. Your rash provocation is far from wise."
"That powerful?" A flicker of disbelief passed through Liana's eyes, but her grandfather's rare seriousness kept her from treating it entirely as a joke. Her eyes shifted, suddenly thinking of something, her pretty face stiffening. "Wait, if he really is a 'spiritual cultivator,' then shaking his head at me earlier wasn't because he didn't understand, but because he found my 'Frost Wolf Assault' worthless?"
A mix of anger from being looked down upon and competitive spirit surged within her. Since childhood, she had been regarded as her generation's martial arts genius in the family, full of pride in the family's combat techniques. How could she tolerate such contempt from a civilian boy of unknown origin—even if he might be a bit odd?
"Grandfather, since you speak of him so highly, why not let me test how much he's really made of? Just a spar, stopping at the point!" Liana was eager to try.
"Ah!" Looking at the fighting spirit burning in his granddaughter's eyes, Roland sighed softly but ultimately did not forcibly stop her. He had spent half his life in military campaigns; his discernment remained. Though this young man before him might possess unusual arts, observing his demeanor, he didn't seem malevolent. Moreover, with himself and Rex present, it was just a spar between youths; it shouldn't be a problem. He also harbored a bit of a testing mentality, wanting to see the true capability of this mysterious youth.
They didn't have to wait long. Roughly half an hour later, the meditating Leon slowly opened his eyes. He didn't exhale a white streak of breath as described in some stories; only the silver radiance deep in his eyes seemed slightly more condensed than before, then vanished. He softly exhaled a breath of turbid air, feeling the further solidified trace of magic within him and the slight growth of his spirit, fairly satisfied. Although the elemental concentration here was far inferior to when using the "Elemental Convergence Array," it had the advantage of being sustainable and free.
He stood up, patted the non-existent dust from his robe, and turned, only to find the grandfather-granddaughter pair and the guard had not left. Instead, they were all standing not far away, watching him. Liana stood with arms crossed, chin slightly raised, looking as if she'd been waiting for him. Elder Roland wore a faint smile, his eyes deep.
Seeing him awake, Roland took two steps forward, placed a hand over his chest, and performed a concise, standard noble greeting—typically used between those of equal status or to show respect. "I never expected to meet a fellow traveler in such a place. I am Roland Crest. This is my granddaughter, Liana. May I ask your name, sir? And from which school do you hail?"
"Crest?" The surname felt somewhat familiar to Leon; he seemed to have heard it mentioned in Grayrock City, a fairly influential Northlands family. But he didn't delve deeper; the memories of his past life were vast, and he had only been here a few days in this life. Much information still needed sorting.
Seeing the stance of the grandfather and granddaughter, it was clear they had noticed the slight abnormality during his meditation and had misunderstood. Leon neither confirmed nor denied, replying indifferently, "Leon. As for my school... I am merely a traveler seeking knowledge and truth." This wasn't entirely a lie.
"A traveler seeking knowledge and truth?" A gleam flashed in Roland's eyes. This self-proclaimed title was interesting. In the northern nations, such people were usually called scholars, adventurers, or... members of certain reclusive sects.
"Grandfather, enough with the formalities!" Liana could no longer hold back. She stepped forward, her beautiful blue eyes fixed directly on Leon, filled with challenge. "I asked you earlier if you shook your head because you didn't understand my swordsmanship. You said no. Well then, since we are both cultivators, how about crossing hands for a spar? Let me also see what remarkable skills a 'traveler seeking truth' possesses."
"A match?" Leon felt a sense of novelty. How many years had it been since someone dared to so directly propose a "spar" to a former Sage, especially when the other party was a spirited young woman?
"I am just an ordinary person with some interest in ancient knowledge, who knows a little about regulating breathing and calming the mind," Leon spread his hands, his tone sincere. "Wielding blades and swords, actual combat and fighting—I am truly not adept. I'm afraid you've misunderstood."
"Hmph! Just now you looked disdainful watching me practice, and now you're making excuses, pretending!" Liana clearly didn't believe him, her pretty face frosty. "Do you only know some mystical tricks and dare not show your real skill?"
"Sir, mutual sparring and verification among young people is also a good thing," Roland chimed in with gentle persuasion, though his gaze remained fixed on Leon's reaction. "Although my granddaughter is young, the family's 'Frost Wolf Sword Art' has reached a decent level, and her Aura is almost touching the threshold of 'Aura Condensation.' It would be good for you to give her some pointers."
Though he said this, inwardly his curiosity grew stronger. After announcing the "Crest" surname, this youth's reaction was so bland it bordered on discourtesy. Either he was ignorant and naive, or he truly had something to rely on, not placing ordinary noble titles in his eyes. Which one was it?
"Enough." Leon shook his head lightly. It seemed that without showing a little something today, he wouldn't be able to leave easily. He wasn't afraid of conflict, just found it troublesome. But faced with the situation, constant avoidance might invite more trouble.
His gaze swept the surroundings. He casually plucked a perfectly ordinary oval oak leaf from a low-hanging oak branch beside him. The leaf was green, its edges bearing fine serrations.
Liana, Roland, and even the guard Rex a little further away all looked at him, puzzled by this inexplicable action.
They saw Leon lightly pinching the flimsy leaf between his thumb and forefinger, his gaze indifferent as he looked at Liana, as if confirming something. The next instant, an extremely faint, almost imperceptible flash of silvery-white light seemed to flicker on the fingers holding the leaf's stem—so dim and swift that all three present doubted their eyes.
Then, Leon bent his finger and gave a light flick.
"Whoosh—!"
No earth-shattering sound, only a soft yet exceptionally sharp whistling! The tender oak leaf, the moment it left his fingers, seemed endowed with a terrifying force and speed by an invisible, powerful bow, transforming into a pale green, blurry afterimage that shot forth on a trajectory hard for the eye to follow!
"Careful!" The instant the faint light flashed at Leon's fingertip, alarm bells screamed in Roland's mind, and he shouted sharply. But before his voice finished, the "leaf" had already completed its path.
It shot past, skimming the cheek of Liana, who was frozen in shock. The sharp wind it raised even made her feel a slight sting on one side of her face.
"Thud!"
A dull thud came from behind Liana.
She stood rigid, a few severed strands of her brilliant golden hair slowly drifting down. The small pearl earring on her right ear also fell with a soft "clink" onto the leaf-covered ground.
Subconsciously, she raised a hand to touch the spot on her cheek that had been grazed. Her fingertip came away slightly damp—an extremely fine line of blood was slowly seeping out.
She slowly turned, following the path of that terrifying whistling sound.
About ten paces behind her, embedded deep into the rough trunk of the ancient oak tree that took two people to embrace, was a green oak leaf! Most of the leaf was deeply embedded into the hard wood, leaving only a small part of the stem and edge visible, buried at least over an inch deep! Given the hardness of oak wood, what terrifying force and penetrating power did this require?
And the leaf itself, aside from some curling and damage at the edges from high-speed flight and violent impact, remained largely intact, not reduced to dust.
Time seemed to stand still for a few seconds.
"El... Elemental Attachment? Turning a mundane object into a blade?" Roland sucked in a sharp, cold breath, his voice trembling with disbelief. His heart, which had leapt to his throat, only plummeted back into place after seeing his granddaughter had only suffered a slight scratch and a few cut hairs. Then, he was utterly shocked by the unbelievable scene before him.
In his youth, he had traveled widely, witnessed powerful knights charging into battle, seen mysterious spellcasters summoning fire or ice, and heard of certain legendary arts. But something like this—casually plucking the most ordinary of leaves, without any incantation, array drawing, or complex preparation, merely with a flick of a finger, endowing it with such terrifying power and precision... this completely exceeded the scope of his past understanding!
This wasn't brute force; this was control of power refined to an extreme, akin to art! It was the temporary bestowal and guidance of a certain "concept"!
He whipped his head around to look at Leon, his eyes filled with unprecedented gravity, even a trace of awe. He placed his hand over his chest and bowed again, this time deeper, his posture more humble. "So it is... a master who commands elemental power. It was my granddaughter and I who were presumptuous and abrupt. We beg your forgiveness."
Roland's mind was now a tempest of shock. He had thought this youth was merely a "spiritual cultivator" who mastered some special meditation method, perhaps with some peculiar skills. He never imagined the other could so casually display such ability, the kind only found in ancient texts or exaggerated tales of bards! This was no ordinary cantrip or combat technique; this was a refined mastery of the world's fundamental power! A person possessing such ability, regardless of age or origin, absolutely deserved the highest礼节!
Liana had already forgotten the slight sting on her cheek and the fallen earring. She took a few steps to the oak tree, reached out, and carefully pinched the exposed stem of the oak leaf embedded in the trunk. She pulled—and couldn't get it out! The leaf was embedded extremely deeply and firmly. She applied more force before managing to extract the leaf.
Laying it flat on her palm, this ordinary oak leaf now seemed so extraordinary. It was still soft, yet carried a strange toughness. The edges seemed to retain an extremely faint, cool, sharp aura.
She looked up at the black-haired youth in plain linen attire standing not far away, his face calm. Her sapphire-blue eyes were filled with extreme shock, bewilderment, and a trace of belated horror.
With this... leaf? It cut my specially cared-for hair? And nailed itself into such hard oak? How is that possible?! This completely defied all her seventeen years of understanding regarding "power"! Channeling Aura into a blade could make it sharper, more solid, but it was absolutely impossible to make a leaf more terrifying than a crossbow bolt! This... what kind of power is this?
Even the guard Rex, who had remained highly alert with his hand on his sword hilt, was completely stunned. Having followed Sir Roland for many years, experienced battlefield slaughter, and witnessed various dangers, this scene still made cold sweat instantly break out on his back.
If that leaf had been aimed not at the tree trunk, but at the young lady's throat, or the master's... He wasn't even confident he could have drawn his sword to block in time! The speed was too fast! And who would pay attention to a falling leaf? This meant if this youth before him were an enemy, he could use any inconspicuous small object to launch a fatal attack at extremely close range, utterly unpredictable!
Too terrifying! This was no longer within the scope of "martial arts" as he understood it!
Leon looked at the three with their varied expressions, especially Liana's complex gaze mixing shock, incomprehension, and a trace of lingering defiance, and Roland's deeply bowed form and respectful address. He understood; the power of this single leaf was enough.
He had no intention to show off, nor to humiliate the other party. He had merely used the most direct method to draw a line, avoiding potentially more trouble later.
"A minor trick, not worth mentioning," Leon's voice remained flat, as if he had merely casually brushed away a fallen leaf. "This place is quiet, beneficial for my cultivation. From today onward, I will meditate here briefly each morning. If it does not disturb you all, let us each go about our business in peace."
Having said this, he no longer looked at the trio's reactions. He turned and walked towards another, more secluded corner by the lake, as if intending to continue today's practice.
He left the three behind, who watched his calm, retreating back, then looked at the deep leaf mark on the tree, speechless for a long time. The morning mist by the lake had not yet completely dispersed. Sunlight filtered through the woods, dust motes dancing in the pillars of light. Everything seemed no different from moments before, yet some understandings had been quietly altered.