Chapter 99: I Really Can't Wait for That Scene (23)

"Ha..."

Across from the middle-aged old knight, who was debating whether to give up women entirely, Herbert stood holding his sword, breathing with some difficulty.

"Cough, cough."

He had just tried a full-power strike at his current level, and hadn't expected it to unleash such tremendous force.

Nor had he expected it to drain so much of his own strength, nearly emptying him dry.

"So tired..."

Herbert now felt as though his entire body had turned into a salted fish; although his standing posture still looked fairly upright, in truth he didn't want to move a single finger, and only wanted to sprawl lazily on the ground to recover.

Just as the Archbishop had warned before, Herbert's current body still wasn't sturdy enough to bear this overly powerful force.

He was like an exquisite vessel, filled with a great deal of contraband that didn't belong to something at his current stage; every time he used it, it would crack a few pieces off his fragile vessel.

He urgently needed a method to improve his physical constitution — the Lava Hell bathing plan had to be put on the agenda right away!

"But then again, the situation seems a little different now."

Herbert narrowed his eyes and activated the new ability he had acquired not long ago.

Gurgle.

Following a soft sound in his stomach that only Herbert himself could hear, he felt his belly noticeably deflate somewhat, having digested a portion of the stored energy.

The next moment, he felt a surge of vigorous vitality flood into his limbs and bones, repairing the damaged areas.

Herbert moved his hands and feet, feeling everything was normal... no, even better than before!

Those torn muscle fibers rapidly grew and recovered, and became stronger and more resilient than before.

This was actually the same principle as working out — actively destroying muscle fibers, then waiting for them to recover and grow thicker.

And Herbert, relying on the power of his mutated flesh, achieved several times the effect of traditional training while only consuming one-third of his body's energy.

And it was immediate — no need for the kind of agony the next day where even getting out of bed is a struggle.

"With muscle-building effects like this, who would still care about any forbidden Nine Dragon Power!"

Very good.

This way, he could gain even greater power without his head turning pointy.

And Herbert's delighted expression also fell into Gain's eyes; he couldn't help but sigh softly:

"So he only tired out for this short a while? And his recovery is this outstanding — just how much blessing did that deity give him..."

Envy.

Utter, bitter envy!

Although it might sound a bit unkind to say so, why was his own deity so stingy... cough, cough, cough!

He only let himself think about it briefly in his heart, not daring to dwell on it, afraid of angering the deity who had so generously bestowed his blessing upon him.

Of course, although his heart was sour as could be — so much so that he almost wanted to turn himself into Herbert — on the surface, Gain still carried himself with great poise.

Or rather, his wavering had only lasted a moment; at this point he had already regained his composure.

How could a Holy Knight who had taken a vow of poverty go mad over jealousy?

Gain displayed the humble quality expected of a mature Holy Knight; he sheathed his blade and gave Herbert a slight nod, saying:

"You performed very well — far beyond my expectations. As long as you can keep at it and not slack off in your training, I believe you will surely become one of the finest among us in the future."

Perhaps even become a leading figure of the Justice faction!

But that last sentence Gain did not speak aloud, only silently kept it hidden in his heart.

Although he very much looked forward to seeing that scene arrive, he still had some worries.

Although Herbert's talent was astonishingly outstanding, he was still too young — his mind was, after all, not yet fully mature.

Without knowing the young man's character, Gain didn't dare be certain whether such praise might cause an originally outstanding young person to become arrogant and conceited, ultimately ruining him.

"Thank you for your guidance, my lord." Herbert sheathed his sword and bowed respectfully to Gain.

"Mm, let's end today's instruction here. Continuing further won't yield much more benefit — go back and think it over carefully."

In Gain's view, although Herbert had now recovered his most basic motor functions, he had actually already reached the point of utter exhaustion; continuing to train would only produce negative effects.

Rather than exerting half the effort for double the result in vain, it was better to end here and let him rest properly.

"Understood. Thank you again for your guidance."

Herbert understood what the other was thinking, but didn't bother to explain.

He still had to give them some time to accept it — he couldn't appear too exaggerated all at once.

Although this middle-aged Holy Knight looked stern and unsmiling, he had devoted himself wholeheartedly to sparring with Herbert all morning, unstintingly offering a great deal of guidance.

In fact, it wasn't just Gain alone — the other members of the knightly order present had also given Herbert plenty of advice and help.

And, should one say this really is the main camp of the Holy Knights?

Even after displaying talent enough to make others envious or even jealous, he hadn't sensed any ill will whatsoever.

Some felt sour in their hearts, some sucked their teeth in envy, some shook their heads and sighed — but no one felt any negative malice.

Oh... although there was no malice, Herbert did sense one very complex emotion — full of confusion, bewilderment, puzzlement, and even a hint of terror.

Who is this?

Oh, it's you, kid.

Herbert looked at this burly man's dust-covered appearance, couldn't help but laugh, and asked: "Blake? What are you doing here? Is there something you need from me?"

"Uh... Your, Your Highness, cough, cough, cough."

Blake blinked in a daze, finally coming back to his senses and realizing where he was.

"Pah, pah, pah!"

He spat out the sand and grit from his mouth with some effort, then pressed both large hands firmly onto Herbert's shoulders.

"Your, Your Highness! Everything that just happened — was it real!?" Blake's expression was agitated, and his voice trembled as he spoke.

"Hm? Of course it's real — what kind of question is that?"

Herbert raised an eyebrow, pushed his palm away, laughed oddly, and asked back:

"I'm right in front of you — could it possibly be fake? Besides, didn't you see it with your own eyes just now?"

"This…"

"People change, Blake."

Enjoying Blake's dazed look, he chuckled lightly and asked back: "Or did you really think I was just hiding here in the monastery, wasting my time?"

"How much do you think I've been through here?"

"I…"

Blake lowered his head somewhat shamefully and said: "The nobles in the city, including the other young masters in the Duke's residence, are all saying that you've been here…"

He hesitated, unsure whether to say that insulting word out loud.

But Herbert wasn't curious about it at all. He nodded and said flatly:

"Hah, it doesn't matter. Let them say whatever they want."

The white-haired youth turned around and walked toward the training ground's exit without looking back, saying casually:

"I hope they keep talking, keep talking, until the moment I walk right up to them… and they still have the courage to keep going."

"I'm way too looking forward to that scene."

(End of Chapter)