Chapter 148: My Whole Life, I Regret Most That I Never Took It

Northern Border, Snow Sheep Village.

The girl awoke from a sweet dream, her first instinct being to touch her right earlobe.

“How wonderful.”

Gazing at the beautiful emerald ear clip in her palm, Dolove’s lips curled slightly, her delicate face blooming into a painting-like, breathtaking smile.

If the village’s knights had seen their young lord in such a tender moment, they would have been stunned speechless.

After all, their young lord had beaten a transcendent knight at twelve, hunted alone against bears and tigers at fifteen, and slain a named beast single-handedly at twenty!

How could she possibly wear such a heart-stopping smile like an ordinary lovestruck girl?

“It’s time to go.”

Dolove packed her belongings simply, picked up the Lionheart Sword resting by her bedside, and prepared to depart.

Since she had sworn an oath in Mason’s name, even if not for the grain stockpiled in Lucas Castle, she must sever the cold-blooded lord’s head within three days to honor the villagers of the Ice Plain who had starved to death.

Dolove clenched her fist, gripped the sword tightly, and opened the door.

This journey is not for training swordplay—it is for killing.

Outside the door, a warm snow fell.

At the village entrance, Lansen and a group of former Eastern Border knights who had fought in the Dragon Lion War waited there already.

Watching the blue-haired girl approach like a valiant knight, his expression was complex—displeased, yet proud.

He was displeased because she failed to consider the bigger picture as he had; proud because she had truly become a true knight.

For only a true knight would never ignore the cries along the road, but instead rush to help without hesitation, even if the cost might be her life.

“Young Lord, should I send a few knights to accompany you to Ice Plain Castle?”

After much hesitation, Lansen spoke slowly.

“No need. Lucas is merely at Dawn Star peak—even if he and his Ice Plain knights surround me, he won’t last a single blow against me.”

Dolove shook her head, her expression calm.

This was not arrogance, nor mere confidence—it was an undeniable fact.

For one who wields the Lionheart Sword and has cultivated the Mason family’s Lion’s Breath to half the level of the former Duke, even an ordinary New Moon would not survive long before her.

“True enough. He’s but a greedy hyena on the ground—how could he compare to a lion atop the mountain?” Lansen sighed.

“After killing Lucas, return soon. Even if the Frost Fang Knights come to capture you, as long as the Lord of the Northern Border doesn’t come himself, we’ll crush every enemy for you.”

“Yes, Young Lord! We’ll fight to the death to protect you!”

Young Lord, you’re incredible! I’ve hated that beast Lucas for ages—make sure you stab him many times before you cut off his head!

“We failed to protect our Lord in the past—that was dereliction. Now, if we have the chance, I’ll spill the last drop of blood in this broken body for you, Young Lord.”

The remaining Eastern Border knights spoke up one after another.

Their expressions varied—some fiery, some joyful, some solemn.

But without exception, every knight’s gaze toward the girl before them was filled with reverence.

This was not out of respect for bloodline, but because over the past dozen years, the girl’s daily diligence in training her sword against biting winds, and her compassion and aid for the weak, had been etched deep into these knights’ hearts.

She was not merely the Duke’s orphan—she was Dolove, a true knight.

They firmly believed she would one day become a great knight equal to, or even surpassing, the former Duke Mason.

Whoosh. whoosh. whoosh.

A torrent of magical energy erupted from each knight, their varied hues painting the snow-laden sky like the aurora at the world’s end.

These dozens of men—all of them above Dawn Star rank!

Some had even reached New Moon rank.

They were the core elite of the Eastern Border army that once rebelled against the Glutton King, many of whom had once ruled their own domains.

In the final battle of the Dragon Lion War, knowing death was inevitable, the Duke Mason ordered all loyal knights to flee with his only surviving daughter, preserving strength for future rebellion.

He himself stayed behind as Duke to cover their retreat—and died beneath the blade of Crimson Fire.

Having survived countless life-or-death battles in the bloodiest war in recent continental history, they trained relentlessly for ten years, burdened by guilt over their Lord’s sacrifice for them.

Today, these surviving knights’ strength far surpasses those of the other three borders of Sosia—hence their unprecedented feat: all Dawn Star, with standouts at New Moon.

Thud.

Someone knelt on one knee first—then all the knights, including Lansen, knelt before Dolove.

“Young Lord, we await your return.” They spoke in unison.

Watching this, the girl remained silent for a long while, then placed her right hand on her left shoulder and bowed deeply to them.

Then, under their gaze, she set off toward the direction of Ice Plain Castle—her slender, not particularly tall figure slowly vanishing into the snowstorm.

“I think one day, Young Lord will lead us to overthrow the Glutton King.”

After Dolove’s figure vanished completely, one knight murmured.

Hearing this, Lansen slowly turned, fixing his gaze on the man—his calm, still eyes made the knight shrink back nervously.

“W-what’s wrong, Commander?”

“From now on, we shall call Dolove Mason ‘Lord.’” Lansen said calmly.

His voice was soft, yet carried unshakable resolve.

“Y-yes, Commander!” After a long silence, the knights answered in unison.

Meanwhile.

Southern Border, William Domain.

In a secluded forest, a great battle raged.

Boom! boom! boom!

Amid a series of explosions, two emerald and one white streaks of light clashed at a terrifying speed beyond human reaction.

At the center of their entwined light, a vortex of annihilation formed—everything in the forest: shrubs, grass, towering ancient trees—turned to shards the moment they touched the light.

Nearby, beside the corpse of a massive beast, Roy and Roland leaned on each other, panting, watching the duel with worried eyes.

Their bodies were covered in horrific lacerations—the work of the giant beast lying dead beside them.

Boom!

After what seemed like an eternity, the white streak finally succumbed to the twin emerald ones. In a perfectly timed combined strike, it collapsed, spent.

As the magical energy dissipated, their true forms were revealed.

Of the two emerald streaks, one was a tall, muscular man wielding a black longsword; the other, a black wolf standing over three meters at the shoulder, majestic and fearsome.

It was Kallen and his mount, Blacktail.

The white streak was a masked figure, chest pierced by a grotesque claw wound, lying motionless, alive or dead, no one could tell.

Seeing the battle decided, Roy and Roland limped over, supporting each other.

“Kallen, thanks. Next time you fight with Danielle, I’ll stay neutral.” Roland said, full of gratitude.

“You bastard, cowardly sheep-fearing assassin with no honor—have the guts to attack us after we’re healed!” Roy kicked the fallen figure furiously.

They had followed their mother’s orders to come to William Domain to help Lord Beren deal with a named beast that had gone mad and slaughtered villagers.

After much effort, they lured it into an empty forest, fought through grievous wounds, and barely killed it.

Just as they were about to return for a healer, the masked assassin suddenly emerged from the bushes and ambushed them.

Caught off guard and facing an opponent of formidable strength, the brothers were driven back, barely holding on.

Just as they were about to be killed, Kallen arrived on Black Abyss Wolf and intervened, ultimately killing the assassin.

“Roy, wait—what if he’s dead? We won’t find the mastermind behind this.” Kallen warned.

“Relax, I’ve got control. Just a few kicks—he won’t die.”

Hearing this, Roy stopped, still furious.

Click.

Suddenly, the dying assassin stiffened, then collapsed, utterly still.

“He’s dead.” Kallen knelt, probed the assassin’s nostrils, then sighed helplessly.

Roy: “...”

“Cough, cough. Fine—next time you fight with Danielle, if it’s her fault, I’m on your side.” Roy cleared his throat awkwardly.

“My quarrel is small, but now that the assassin is dead, we may never find the mastermind behind this chain of events.” Kallen smiled bitterly.

Hearing this, Roy and Roland both frowned deeply.

A named beast that went mad and slaughtered villagers, an assassin who ambushed them at their weakest—no doubt, this was a coordinated conspiracy.

“It wasn’t Roy’s kicks that killed him—he must have swallowed poison. When a mission fails, he’d kill himself. I once read about it in a book—only professionally trained assassins can do that.”

Roland suddenly spoke, stroking his chin in thought.

He bent down and carefully removed the assassin’s mask. When the face was revealed, all three gasped in shock.

What a face it was—like a human visage wiped clean with a cloth.

No hair, no texture, no skin—more like swollen parchment stretched clumsily over the skull.

Only the eyes, slightly protruding nose, and lips hinted at any human form.

Roland forced down his nausea and gently lifted the assassin’s eyelid, revealing a pair of gray-white, bestial pupils.

“He’s a Monster Hunter.” At the sight of those eyes, Roland immediately concluded.

“No wonder he was so strong—he’s one of those madmen.” Roy realized.

Monster Hunter is the fourth-tier New Moon class of Hunter.

Those who ascend to Monster Hunter often transplant some monster organs onto themselves.

These organs grant them unmatched individual combat power among New Moon, but also impose a heavy toll on their sanity.

Even among the Exalted, there’s a joke—“Nine out of ten Demon Hunters are mad, and the tenth doesn’t even know he’s insane.”

“Could the mastermind be the Storm Church?” Luo Yi speculated.

“Unlikely. The Storm Church has widespread followers in the Southern Region—perhaps the most devout across all four regions. It has no interest in disrupting the current stability.”

Karun shook his head and rejected the idea.

Lu En is still preaching in Dusk City. If he provokes the enmity of the Marsha family, it would be disastrous.

As his closest friend, Karun had the duty to clear his name.

“During the old Dragon-Lion War, I recall the royal army sent to the capital included many Hunters actively involved. That Gluttonous King must have long ago obtained the full set of magical potion formulas for the Hunting Path from the Pope of Windwhisper City.”

Roland spoke with implication.

“So it really is because of that tyrant? It seems the peaceful Southern Region still annoys him,” Luo Yi gritted his teeth.

“Let’s go. Lord Beren fought a Named Beast to protect his people and was gravely wounded—he won’t live much longer. We must be witnesses to his succession.”

William Bao .

In the lord’s bedroom.

“Cough. Cough.”

The old man who, during the Infant Honor Ceremony, had once presented young Haydon with a bouquet of forget-me-nots and blessed him to cherish his youth and those who loved him, now lay on his deathbed, barely breathing.

To protect his people, he had forced his Morning Star body to battle a Named Beast. That he had held on this long was already a miracle.

His only son, Beia William, knelt beside the bed, face filled with grief.

Karun, Luo Yi, and Roland, who had arrived here, stood silently as witnesses.

“Beia, my only son, you will inherit my lands and the name William. But before that, I need you to swear an oath before the gods.”

“Father, say it. No matter how absurd or difficult the oath, I will keep it,” Beia cried out.

“I need you to swear by your honor to serve forever the Sage Xia Mingyu, obeying all his commands—even if the cost is death.”

As if granted a final surge of strength, the old man spoke with a firm, resonant voice.

At these words, the three watching silently all showed expressions of “I knew it.”

Lord Beren hadn’t lived these years in vain—his vision was sharp. He knew nothing was more valuable than leaving his son under the guidance of a noble, brilliant, and boundlessly promising sovereign.

“By the Seven Gods, I, Beia William, swear by my honor to serve forever the Sage Xia Mingyu, obeying all his commands—whether just or unjust, reasonable or unreasonable—”

Though his heart was filled with confusion, Beia made the oath without hesitation, facing his dying father.

“Good. Very good.”

Seeing his son finally complete the oath, the old man closed his eyes, satisfied.

“The one regret of my life… is that I never took that bouquet of forget-me-nots.”

After murmuring these words, his breath gradually faded.

“Father!”

With a piercing cry, the eldest viscount of the Southern Region, former runner-up of the Dusk City Tournament, a worthy lord—Beren William—departed for the Netherworld.

(End of Chapter)