Every inhale felt like the sea rushing into his chest, every exhale like a fierce retreating tide, taking with it the waste gases and fatigue within his body.
Fighting Energy circulated through his ridians, blood flow accelerated, his bones mildly heated, and his channels expanded like being forged.
This Breathing Technique wasn’t fancy, but it allowed him to steadily improve every day.
The glow of the Fighting Energy within him brightened slightly. He opened his eyes, feeling relieved yet helplessly smiling.
"After several enhancents, my bloodline is no longer a useless waste, but... it can’t be called top-notch."
He knew that to beco a truly extraordinary knight, this pace was far from sufficient.
"Hopefully, soday the intelligence system will reveal so rare cultivation resources."
He gently exhaled, then closed his eyes and resud ditation.
This ti, it was Magic.
"Primordial ditation Technique."
His consciousness sank into a sea of spirituality, and all the noise from the outside world instantly vanished.
He saw the talisman quietly suspended deep within his spirit, like so primitive rune heart, slowly pulsing.
Magic Power began to flow.
It wasn’t forcibly absorbing, not devouring or infusing, but a resonance, an interaction of the sa frequency.
The ambient Magic Power was gently attracted, surging into his spirit like a tide naturally.
The entire process was smooth and tranquil, yet several tis faster than traditional ditation techniques.
"Although there’s still a gap to the official grand mages of the Mage Forest... I could catch up in two more years."
He could feel that his Magic Power had quietly crossed a threshold.
When Louis opened his eyes, the sky outside was already bright.
He did not feel the usual morning tranquility, but rather sensed the familiar presences beside him that had been there long before.
One to the left and one to the right, silver-white and ocean blue.
Sif sat with her knees hugged, leaning against the wall by the door, her gaze faintly fixed on him.
Morning dew still clung to the tips of her hair, evidently choosing not to disturb him upon waking, instead sitting there silently keeping watch.
Emily had already arisen and changed into a dress, an elegant light blue gown, her smooth hair adorned with a silver feather accessory.
She was quietly holding her coat, gently watching in his direction.
"Finished cultivating?" Emily asked softly, her tone carrying a long-lost ease.
"Yes." Louis exhaled a remaining breath, slowly stood up, stretched his muscles, and still had traces of cultivation concentration lingering in his eyes.
Sif smirked: "Finally willing to wake up, huh? It’s been two hours."
Her tone was sharp, her words unforgiving, yet as he stood up, she walked over and casually straightened his slightly wrinkled collar, her movents gentle.
The three of them shared a mont of closeness, then left the bedroom and went to the dining room.
On the table was steaming fish soup, rye bread, and preserved two-headed bear at, a specialty of the Red Tide Territory.
The food was not lavish, but in the current Northern Territory, it was a feast.
"While you were away," Emily said as she poured him tea, "Sif and I handled the affairs of the Red Tide Territory, with Bradley assisting. Nothing major went wrong.
We distributed the refugees among the various territories according to the plan you left. During your absence, Sif, Bradley, and I basically rotated shifts managing resources day and night."
Sif took a bite of at and snorted: "If I hadn’t hung those few minor nobles from the south who dared to hoard supplies on the lookout tower, I bet soone would still be saying ’we might not survive this winter’ even now."
Louis bit into the bear at, suddenly turning serious: "Can the territory’s grain still hold up?"
Emily heard this and slightly shook her head with a frown.
"Without external aid... within a month, we’ll have to start rationing." Sif sighed, "It was fortunate you arranged for us to harvest the early-maturing batch first; otherwise, we might already be starving now."
"What did the family say?" Louis looked at Emily.
Emily nodded: "The letter I sent in your na finally received a reply. The Calvin Clan promised to dispatch a grain convoy, reaching the Red Tide Territory’s border within a week, enough to maintain minimum standards for the entire winter."
Sif shrugged and added, "In short, we won’t starve to death. But don’t expect to be full either."
Louis bit the spoon handle, nodded slightly, as if in thought: "I’ll think of a way..."
After the al, Louis didn’t linger, he stood up, put on his cloak, and headed silently toward the office.
"I’m going to the office." He said softly as he looked back, and Emily nodded.
He pushed open the heavy oak door, familiar scents of book pages and slight dust mingled and rushed in.
Under the dim yellow lamp, the long table strewn with maps and statistical docunts seed to have been waiting for him for a long ti.
Old steward Bradley was already standing to one side, looking serious, hands folded behind his back.
"Welco back, sir."
Louis nodded, didn’t say much, just gently sat down, rolled up his robe sleeves, contemplating the crisis before him.
He took a deep breath and wrote the first heavy word on the paper: food crisis.
Originally, the Red Tide Territory’s grain reserves could comfortably last through a winter.
But now, the influx of refugees from all sides has disrupted this balance.
"Originally could support ten thousand through the winter, now it’s fifty thousand." He said in a low voice.
He had thought about refusing. But in the ruins of Frost Halberd City, before all those faces yearning to survive, he ultimately couldn’t say "we can’t afford this."
"Save one if I can." That was his decision then.
The cost has followed too.
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