"Don't get cocky! I just let my guard down!" The female knight captain's sharp, handsome face twisted with frustration.
"Again!" she shouted, planting a foot and charging straight at Glen again!
This time, a pair of faint golden wings appeared behind her, and her knightly sword changed—seemed longer somehow.
Glen could feel his opponent's speed had jumped significantly. He lowered his center of gravity, ready for whatever came.
The knightly sword thrust forward, and instantly over a dozen phantom knight swords appeared around it, covering every angle Glen might dodge into!
They can do that?! Glen's eyes widened a little. His leg muscles tensed, and he sprang upward five or six meters, clearing the attack range.
Grabbing a tree's canopy, he planted his feet on the trunk and launched himself like a spring straight toward the captain's back!
The captain, realizing her strike had missed, canceled the attack and, sensing the wind behind her, used another knight skill!
A massive phantom knight shield materialized from nowhere and slammed into the spot behind her, barely blocking Glen's descending strike.
Landing, Glen looked at this overly flashy opponent and said, half‑annoyed, "Knight, this isn't fun anymore. I'm using a wooden stick—if you've got skill, beat me with your swordplay. What's the point of fighting like this?"
His strike had hardly any force behind it; otherwise, the stick would've snapped.
He'd originally wanted to test the level of knightly swordsmanship in this world, but all these flashy skills robbed him of the joy of pure weapon‑to‑weapon combat.
"Fine." Her earlier remark had been offhand, but surprisingly, the captain actually turned off the effects.
Glen blinked, then grinned in excitement.
"Captain!" The two knights in the distance exclaimed again.
"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," the captain said quietly.
With a shout, they clashed once more.
The spirited captain unleashed nearly everything she'd learned at knight academy. All kinds of intricate sword techniques flowed from her, pouring into Glen.
Yet with just a wooden stick, Glen parried and countered, weaving around her attacks while making sure the stick never broke, staying completely unfazed.
He'd already sized up her swordsmanship—in his past world, she'd easily rank among the top tier, world‑class level.
But she was facing Glen, hailed by his family and outsiders as a martial arts prodigy rarely seen in a century. By sixteen, he'd mastered every fist, blade, and staff technique his clan had; years of military training had pushed his pre‑transmigration skill beyond knowing.
This body had no muscle memory, though—all his moves relied on memory plus his werewolf physique's reflexes, so his current level wasn't as high as before.
After hundreds of exchanges, the captain had been struck all over, but not a single wolf hair on Glen had been touched. The more she fought, the angrier she got.
Slap!
Another hit landed on her backside, a crisp, unmistakable sound. The high‑ponytailed captain suddenly threw her sword to the ground and snarled, "Damn it!"
That startled both Glen and the other two knights.
Maybe I shouldn't have hit there… Glen thought.
The captain's chest heaved, teeth grinding, glaring at Glen with pure venom.
"Uh… actually…" Glen had planned to say something comforting, like how she was amazing and he was just that strong, but she spoke first.
"I'll beat you…" She picked up her sword, walked to her two companions, whistled, and a griffon landed in a gust of wind. "Let's go."
"But what about the werewolf…"
"Leave him. He hasn't harmed anyone."
The two knights exchanged puzzled glances—they didn't understand their captain's reasoning.
They couldn't know what she felt in the fight: her knight's heart told her this creature radiated no cruelty, and in fact felt oddly drawn to her knightly spirit. Combined with his claim of not eating humans, she believed him.
More importantly, she knew he was holding back most of his strength. Had he wanted to, the three of them might not have escaped, let alone won. But he'd shown no killing intent—enough for her to choose retreat.
Watching the massive griffon rise into the sky, Glen stayed silent, not because he had nothing to say, but because he didn't know what to say.
Couldn't exactly invite them to stay—he'd just smacked her on the butt.
As Glen's thoughts wandered, the captain's voice reached him: "Remember, Mr. Werewolf—I'm Windsor Baide, squad leader of the 7th Griffon Knights Division. Next time I find you, I'll beat you myself!"
I'm really looking forward to it… Glen smiled, got his bearings, and left.
…
A plain farmer's home.
The old man sat beside a chicken coop, gnawing on a loaf of bread he'd apparently produced from somewhere, taking a bite every so often.
Nearby, a few farmers talked among themselves, occasionally glancing at him with wary eyes.
The old man ignored those looks, just zoning out.
A small stone flew out of nowhere, hitting his knee. His gaze sharpened, and he turned toward where it came from.
From a bush a dozen meters away, a pair of cold gleams hid in the shadows.
The old man seemed to relax, stood up, and walked toward them with his pack.
"Old man, get me a set of clothes first," Glen whispered as the figure approached.
The old man paused, turned expressionlessly to the farmers, and said something.
One farmer, trembling, took a few copper coins and ran into a house, soon returning with a plain outfit for the old man…
Once Glen changed, the old man asked, "Did you kill the Griffon Knights?"
"I don't give off that kind of killing intent," Glen rolled his eyes. "Three insanely fit female knights showed up, realized they weren't a match, and left."
"Most Griffon Knights are women," the old man said casually.
"Why?" Glen asked, curious.
"Women generally have better coordination and lighter weight," the old man explained simply.
Glen nodded. The old man then said, "You head back first. I've got things to take care of."
"Fine. Pay me." Glen didn't care what the old man was doing—he just wanted his reward.
The old man was ready, tossing Glen a pouch.
Without checking, Glen stuffed it in his pocket—neighbors or not, the old man wouldn't and couldn't cheat him.
"You know the way? Need me to point it out?"
"You really think I'm just a kid?"