"..."
Cyril returned to his room in silence, finally exploding once he shut the door, clenching his teeth and pounding fiercely on the stone desk.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The several hundred-pound stone desk quaked incessantly under his blows, showing signs of cracking.
But although Cyril was angry, he hadn’t completely lost his sanity.
He was still holding back, otherwise the stone desk would have already been shattered by his massive fists.
Already awakening his innate divine power, and after years of hard training and mastering martial monk techniques, his hands were now akin to a formidable extraordinary weapon.
Though Cyril was more adept at using a warhamr, he was already capable of easily defeating martial monks of the sa level with just his bare hands.
Thud!
Crack...
As a tiny crack appeared on the desk, Cyril finally cald down a bit, no longer pounding, cautiously raising his hand, clenching his fist tightly.
"Herbert, that damn noble!"
Though slightly calr, the fury in his heart was still unrestrained.
Cyril thought of Herbert’s "mocking" smile when they parted ways here.
He must be laughing at !
Yes, that guy surely thinks everything I do is just futile and ridiculous...
And the reality?
"...Tch." Cyril thought of the bleak truth and couldn’t help but click his tongue.
Other people not only didn’t support his brave resistance, most of them didn’t even care.
The others were already packing up their things, preparing to head to the dark territory with Herbert.
Is it my problem?
Or are they too naive?
"Those guys were actually deceived by him, they... Tch!"
Cyril’s anger and hatred towards the aristocracy were challenging for others to truly comprehend.
Not everyone could understand his fury; many cultivators at the monastery were not of commoner origin.
So had slight connections to the aristocracy, and so were even forr nobles.
After sulking for a while, Cyril angrily pulled out an old notebook and slowly wrote Herbert’s na on it.
This notebook was Cyril’s "Book of Hatred," recording all the "enemies" Cyril had encountered over the years.
Then, Cyril continued to write.
Second na, Waro, he mocked .
Third na, Zar, he mocked with sign language.
Fourth na...
Soon, Cyril wrote down the nas of everyone present today, including the oblivious Rusted Nail Bishop!
"..."
Putting down the pen, Cyril stared at the list for a while, scratching his head.
"Tch!"
Tear——
After clicking his tongue heavily, he suddenly tore off the sheet filled with nas.
Clenched it tightly, then stuffed it into his mouth, chewing vigorously before swallowing.
Gulp.
As the wad of paper moved with his adam’s apple up and down, he swallowed this "hatred" into his belly.
"No! The Chief Judge said, I shouldn’t let anger control ... that’s wrong!"
Slap!
He deeply sighed, slapped himself hard, his gaze becoming more determined.
He had awakened from the state of being consud by anger and wouldn’t do sothing foolish like hating everyone.
"Only one person deserves hate!"
Finally, Cyril picked up the pen again and wrote down one na.
"Only by defeating you can I truly beco stronger!"
Cyril deeply nodded at the na, closed the Book of Hatred, and put it in the pocket sewn into the front of his shirt.
After finishing everything, he turned and began packing what he needed to bring.
Yes, Cyril would also be going with everyone to the dark territory.
Would he give up this rare opportunity for practice because of Herbert’s presence?
Impossible.
As soone who never had chances, who could only watch as his father and brother passed away, he valued each precious opportunity more than others.
Though being commanded by Herbert was unacceptable, even repulsive.
The endeavor to train in the dark territory itself was challenging and could enhance his strength.
"Yes, no matter what happens later, I must endure..."
He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly.
When he opened his eyes again, calm had returned to his gaze.
...
Ten minutes later.
"What did you say!!?"
"I don’t accept it!"
Having ntally prepared himself to endure humiliation, Cyril exploded.
He had managed ten minutes of good progress in the "don’t get angry challenge."
Cyril once more raged, gritting lowly at the smiling white-haired youth before him: "You’re insulting ! I will absolutely not do as you think!"
"You still truly believe yourself a noble inside! Looking down on us commoners!"
"Slave? Ha!"
Upon completing all ntal preparations and standing before Herbert, he was told that for disguise, he would have to play the role of a slave.
At other tis, playing a slave wasn’t sothing unacceptable.
Because often, while Paladins represent justice, they are not always accepted by others.
Though well-intentioned and wanting to save others, they are often viewed as a calamity by so.
So people don’t wish for salvation by others.
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