’A... transformation of so sort from mastering the Breathing Technique?’
Seeing Roland’s brow furrow slightly, Graham reached out and gently ruffled his short, black hair.
"Kid, you’ve got talent, but this... isn’t sothing you should be worrying about right now."
His voice carried the weariness of soone who had seen it all.
"Mastering the Knight’s Breathing Technique is already fraught with difficulty. Those who succeed are as rare as a phoenix’s feather..."
Graham sighed softly, as if so unpleasant mories had been stirred.
"And among these already few Knights, those who can hone their Breathing Technique to the absolute limit are one in a hundred—practically nonexistent. So don’t put too much pressure on yourself, even if..."
At this, the Dean of the Knight Academy took a deep breath, forcing a smile onto his solemn face.
"Even if it shortens your lifespan a little, so what? Life is fleeting. To shine with a light beyond the ordinary in your limited ti is already a great fortune."
A flicker of surprise passed through Roland’s eyes upon hearing these words.
He hadn’t expected the rough-looking Graham to say sothing so philosophical.
However, the other man’s comforting words did nothing to sway his resolve.
’Mastering the Breathing Technique...’
’It might be as difficult as ascending to the heavens for an ordinary person, but...’
Thinking of his unique advantage, the corners of Roland’s mouth curled up in a faint, almost imperceptible arc.
’For , with my Professional Panel, pushing the Knight’s Breathing Technique to its peak is only a matter of ti.’
Noticing that his words didn’t seem to deter Roland in the slightest, Graham frowned.
"Kid, even though you’ve successfully cultivated the Breathing Technique and even crudely channeled your Fighting Spirit, it doesn’t an your path forward will be smooth sailing."
He paused, his tone growing earnest.
"Cultivating the Breathing Technique is a long and arduous journey. Rushing for results might, on the contrary..."
Graham waved his hand and sighed.
"Forget it. Seeing as I’m in a good mood today..."
The burly man casually snatched a practice Longsword from the weapon rack and beckoned to Roland with his finger.
"Co on, kid. I’ll give you a few pointers."
At these words, Roland’s eyes instantly lit up.
He imdiately cast aside all distracting thoughts, stepped forward, and bowed respectfully.
"Thank you, Dean Graham."
"Ha!"
Roland’s humble attitude earned a satisfied nod from Graham.
The burly man weighed the practice Longsword in his hand and chuckled.
"Don’t thank just yet. You know about the annual study tour tradition established after the River Domain ford diplomatic ties with its neighbors, right? This year, it’s our turn to go to the Golden Valley Kingdom’s Knight Academy for an exchange."
"You’d better train hard, kid. You can co ask anyti you have a question about cultivating the Breathing Technique. But when the ti cos..."
Graham flicked his wrist, holding the Longsword upright and assuming the opening stance of his usual Swordsmanship style.
"You’re going to be the one leading the team. Don’t you dare embarrass , understand?"
"Yes, sir!"
Roland nodded and accepted without a mont’s hesitation.
Although he had only heard bits and pieces about the study tour, the opportunity to ask a powerful Knight like Graham about the mysteries of the Breathing Technique at any ti was worth facing any challenge.
Besides, given the stable diplomatic relations between the River Domain and its neighboring countries, he didn’t think the trip would involve any real danger.
"Excellent!"
Seeing Roland’s decisive attitude, a glint of appreciation flashed in Graham’s eyes. He then said in a deep voice,
"Now... try to circulate your Breathing Technique and attack !"
For the next while, the once-quiet training ground was suddenly filled with the crisp clang of tal on tal, interspersed with Graham’s occasional rough shouts.
"Too slow, kid! The Breathing Technique isn’t a shackle, it’s your second skin! Let it co alive!"
"Where are you looking? The tip of the sword? Idiot! Watch my shoulder! Watch my waist! Anticipate! The Breathing Technique doesn’t just give you brute force, it gives you Perception!"
"Ha! Now that’s more like it! Fighting Spirit isn’t stagnant water you pour into your sword; it’s a raging current that surges forth with your movents!"
As the sun sank below the horizon, twilight deepened.
Roland struggled to plant his practice Longsword into the ground, his chest heaving violently like a worn-out bellows.
"HUFF... HUFF... HUFF..."
He gasped for air, only gradually calming down after a long mont.
Although his exchange with Graham was brief, the difficulty of maintaining the Breathing Technique during such an intense confrontation far exceeded Roland’s imagination.
’But...’
A satisfied smile crept onto his lips as his eyes scanned over the suddenly increased Experience Points for his Knight’s Breathing Technique on the Professional Panel.
As the Dean of the Knight Academy, Graham’s teaching ability was so high that it was in no way inferior to that of Reggie, who specialized in imparting skills.
In fact, compared to Reggie’s ticulous but sowhat cumberso thods, the burly man’s instruction was more concise and efficient.
From just this brief clash, Roland felt his use of Fighting Spirit had already improved significantly.
’This is so much better than studying on my own!’
"Alright, kid, that’s enough for today!"
Watching the sweat drip continuously from Roland’s forehead, Graham casually tossed the practice Longsword, and it flew precisely back into the weapon rack.
"Use your body to rember that sharp, cold feeling when the Fighting Spirit circulates. The rest... is just day after day of tempering!"
He tipped the last of the wine from his flask down his throat and walked straight out of the training ground.
"If there’s anything you don’t understand, co ask anyti."
Before his voice had even faded, the burly figure had vanished from Roland’s sight.
’A sharp, cold... feeling?’
Roland frowned slightly, mulling over Graham’s words.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t perceive the flow of his Fighting Spirit during battle, it was just...
the feeling was anything but cold. It was an indescribable, searing heat.
When he pushed his Breathing Technique to its limit in the heat of battle, what surged through his body wasn’t a current of air at all, but what felt like clusters of Burning flas.
’Could it be... that different Constitutions perceive the Breathing Technique differently? Or maybe...’
As his thoughts raced, Roland called up his Professional Panel, his gaze locking onto the Race column.
Looking at the entry marked "Dragon?", his brow furrowed even deeper.
’Is this phenonon... related to the golden droplet bestowed by that Giant Dragon?’
Since the Wuxi Town incident, Roland had consulted nurous ancient texts but found no records of a mortal ever being granted Dragon Blood.
And aside from a slight enhancent to his Constitution, he himself had shown no other abnormalities in his daily life.
Therefore, he had temporarily set the matter aside, along with [Shire’s Favor].
’But now, it seems...’
’Perhaps... that drop of Dragon Blood is subtly changing my body?’
This thought drove him to look down and examine himself.
His skin was fair with a healthy glow, no different in appearance from an ordinary human.
’This matter... I should probably ask Galvis about it.’
Roland wiped the sweat from his forehead, returned the Longsword to the weapon rack, and turned to walk ho.
’As a Half-Elf, he’s long-lived and his travels have taken him across nearly half the continent. Maybe... he can provide so useful information.’
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