Riddle was scheming sothing, but Ian didn’t care about that. There was no way the Paradox Servant could escape his control; what the little wizard was most concerned about was what to have for breakfast now that his stomach was rumbling.
He hadn’t seen the master of this castle; the legendary Duke seed to be away from ho. Luckily, Morgan, who got up earlier, had already instructed the servants to prepare breakfast for him in advance.
Under Morgan’s arrangent, Ian was led to an elegantly decorated dining room. On the table were various exquisite tableware, and the steaming food emitted an enticing aroma.
There were traditional offerings like bread, lamb, and cheese, as well as carefully prepared eggs and fresh fruits, with each dish exuding a classical flavor.
Perhaps this spread couldn’t compare with Hogwarts’, yet being able to enjoy such food in ancient tis where food was scarce was certainly sothing quite delightful.
"At least the bread is soft." Ian’s expression and deanor were entirely caught by Morgan’s eyes, making little Morgan realize that perhaps his teacher’s past life was more extravagant than he had imagined.
Being a powerful wizard.
It wasn’t surprising.
Little Morgan mused to himself.
After finishing breakfast, Ian walked out of the dining room and saw Riddle still engrossed in brewing a magic potion, with a focused expression as if everything around him was irrelevant. Ian didn’t disturb him and headed straight outside the castle. He wanted to see the morning of this era, and Morgan, dressed in appropriate attire, promptly followed.
However.
The castle’s butler wanted to stop them.
"Oh, Your Highness, you’re actually wearing clothes from last week, if people outside see this, they’ll think your father is treating you harshly."
The butler wasn’t targeting Ian; he wasn’t surprised by Ian’s appearance, perhaps because Morgan often brought "wizards" back. Stopping Morgan was rely because of Morgan’s attire.
"I like this black dress, besides, we’re only strolling around the nearby area." Morgan glanced at the clothes she was wearing and gave the butler an unsatisfactory answer.
Yet the butler reluctantly nodded.
He left.
Leaving behind a sowhat pouting Morgan and a secretly flabbergasted Ian. What did wearing clothes last week and the best not to wear them this week an? Wasn’t this the legendary extravagance of the aristocrats!
The little wizard now sowhat understood why luxury clothes of later generations could be of such poor quality that they’d be ruined by a washing machine, seemingly paying homage to the dressing style of ancient nobles in terms of wearing ti.
"Learned sothing new."
Under Morgan’s guidance, Ian ca to the grass outside the castle. Today the weather was nice, the morning sunlight stread through the thin mist onto the ancient castle, with the soft light casting a golden glow upon the magnificent building. In the woods outside the castle, the birds’ songs interweaved into a lodious lody.
After passing through a ticulously manicured garden, Ian saw a training field. On the training field, knights under the Duke were engaged in their daily training.
Their movents were uniform, each sword swing, each step filled with power and rhythm. Ian noticed that these knights’ physiques were far beyond ordinary; their muscle lines were distinct, moves swift and precise, as if each inch of their bodies contained incredibly strong power.
Ian even saw the giant stones these knights trained with, each no less than a ton heavy, yet they could lift them like barbell sets, performing strength exercises in groups of dozens.
It could only be said these people were nothing short of human-shaped beasts.
Such a miraculous scene made him once again marvel.
"Have these knights’ bodies been magically modified?" Ian couldn’t help but speculate, and due to the absence of shirtless individuals, he couldn’t verify whether there was any magical transformation handiwork on the knights.
"Hm?"
Little Morgan was a bit dazed hearing her new teacher inquire, and she was quite surprised, glancing at Ian, "These are knights who cultivate the knight’s breathing technique. Through this breathing technique, knights can continuously refine their bodies, unlocking their potential; almost all big nobles cultivate their knights."
This was common knowledge in the world. Little Morgan hadn’t expected Ian to be amazed by it, but on second thought, she roughly understood why.
Judging by the era the Dark Bible was written, her teacher must be very, very old, and perhaps long periods of isolation left him with little knowledge of the changes happening in the outside world.
The knight’s breathing technique was sothing that recently gained popularity, stemming from the recent decades’ renowned legendary wizard, seemingly her teacher had ntioned that legendary wizard’s na last night.
Thinking this.
Little Morgan then comnced a detailed explanation to Ian, "Only the most talented knights can learn the knight’s breathing technique, as it requires many precious body refining materials during cultivation; even our family can only cultivate a few hundred knights, and the King has only slightly over a thousand true knights."
Her tone carried a bit of sentint.
Upon hearing this, Ian again looked at those knights in training, watching one after another of these human-shaped beasts; he was again struck by the wonder of this sword and magic era.
Being in the late twentieth century.
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