Chapter 4: Don

This is the story of a man too foolishly upright.

“Don’t make a sound. No matter what happens, don’t make a sound.”

Sul Dawng could never forget that scene.

As she shoved herself into the hidden wine cellar beneath the bed, her mother clamped a hand over her own mouth, tears streaming as she spoke.

“Good child, good child, don’t cry. Mama loves you, Mama loves you, Mama loves you.”

After one final hug and a kiss, her mother drew a deep breath, clutched the valuables between her teeth, and left with gritted resolve.

Less than ten minutes later, she was murdered in the living room by the robbers.

The woman’s screams, sobs, cries for mercy—six-year-old Sul Dawng woke every night to them, unable to sleep again.

In countless nights after, whenever he closed his eyes, he felt as if he were back beneath the bed.

He dared not open them, fearing that if he did, he would see his mother, her face twisted in pain and despair.

She, mouth wide open, eyes filled with tears, stared at him, silently forbidding him to crawl out.

He knew it was a delusion—he had covered his ears and head then, heard nothing, seen nothing.

The only thing he saw later was the half of her face, uncovered beneath the white cloth, eyes still wide open in death.

“I am a coward.”

Without reason, without excuse, in the long, agonizing years that followed, Sul Dawng regretted his cowardice and timidity countless times.

“I will never let evil go unpunished!”

Why was I so cowardly back then? Why couldn’t I muster the courage to rush out and protect the one I loved most?

Why couldn’t I even find the courage to die beside her?

“I will never abandon my protection of the innocent and weak!”

Mother, I miss you so much.

My sword will forever swing for the weak, for those like you.

“Justice never compromises.”

I would rather die on the path of charge than remain alive in this hell of regret and suffering.

“Judgment!” The silver light flashed, heads flew, yet satisfaction never came.

This was a cry across time, a resonance between hero-soul and mortal, a dream shattering.

“My head hurts… it’s unbearable… tears?”

When Li En awoke from sleep, he was dazed—the deep, heartfelt regret and despair left him utterly despondent.

“I am Li Ensu, not Li En. No, not Sul Dawng—the most upright, yet most foolish of Oath Knights.” He understood now where the warning on the Hero-Soul Card about self-perception danger had come from.

The origin of a hero is often a tragedy, and Sul Dawng’s was excessive.

He sat on the jail cell bed for a long time before catching his breath.

Fortunately, there seemed to be a decent target for venting.

“Crack!”

The final punch slammed into the wall; ignoring the collapsed robber, Li En shook his numb wrist.

Six burly men, all bruised and swollen, lay sprawled across the cell, now huddled trembling in the corner.

【Synchronization Rate: 14.2%, Satisfaction: 9.7%.】

The numbers on the ancient book flickered; Li En licked his cracked lips.

His guess was correct—“Punish Evil” did raise the numbers, but only by this little. It seemed such petty “evils” could not satisfy Mr. Sul.

Li En had begun to understand how the Hero-Soul Card worked: it was a form of “soul superposition.”

The initial fusion phase, perhaps also called the synchronization surge, was when the Hero-Soul’s presence was strongest, then it settled into a stable phase with relatively steady synchronization.

When the two-week stability phase ended and the Hero-Soul Card’s effects faded, how much remained depended entirely on the Hero-Soul’s satisfaction with you.

“Transcendent.”

Li En hadn’t expected to encounter the true nature of this supernatural world so quickly.

During the stable phase, several fragments of Sul’s memories had been “decompressed” by Li En.

Even fragmented memories of the former Grand Knight were far more valuable than any book Li En had collected.

"Soul, body, and martial skills—heart, body, technique?"

This was not abstract description—it was concrete reality.

In this world, the body was the foundation of all—hardware running software, a cup holding water.

“The beastfolk of this world can evolve endlessly—no wonder I, a degenerate, am seen as useless.”

Even Li En’s disguised lizardfolk could, through magic potions and transcendent rituals, evolve into shadow lizards with camouflage abilities or stone lizards with skin as hard as iron.

Such advancement was a species-level leap—extremely difficult, yet the strong could endure multiple such transformations in a lifetime.

From coarse stone to brilliant diamond, even to immortal myth.

According to Li En’s knowledge, above “Coarse Stone” were “Raw Stone,” then “Color Gold”—the evolutionary ceiling was very high.

The leopard-woman officer he’d met earlier had likely advanced at least twice; Sul had advanced four or five times, earning the title “Quasi-Mythic.”

The body was the root of life; the soul, carrying technique (memory), was the source of life.

Technique—or combat rank—was the water in the cup, the software running on the hardware.

As a “degenerate” (Coarse Stone rank), Li En now held the “heart” of a hero, indirectly possessing his technique (Sixth-Rank Oath Knight).

He currently held only Second-Rank Oath Knight, plus temporary First-Rank Holy Knight and Warrior ranks.

But over time, the cup would leak, and all would inevitably drain away.

Whether he could gain the Hero-Soul’s approval and preserve more through soul resonance was Li En’s greatest need now.

He clenched his fist—it felt deeply unnatural.

“It’s like putting Black Myth: Wukong on max settings on a GTX 1050.”

Sul’s complete form as a Quasi-Mythic was surely more than Sixth-Rank Grand Knight—this was merely the limit of Li En’s 30% synchronization yesterday; now, at 10%, Li En could manifest even less.

“If you’re weak, train more.”

So Li En, fists raised, prepared to spar with his cellmate.

Even if he couldn’t raise synchronization or satisfaction, punishing evil pleased the “Soul-Machine” and brought him deep satisfaction too.

But this time, he was stopped.

“Oath-Bound, spare those unfortunate ones.”

The jingle of keys echoed beyond the bars; the leopard-eared officer stood in the morning light, arms crossed, her honey-colored tail flicking irritably through the air.

“Someone bailed you out.”

This completely exceeded Li En’s expectations—he’d committed serious crimes, had no relatives or connections here—who would bail him?

Down the long corridor, apart from the prisoners’ pleas, only footsteps echoed—one ahead, one behind.

The honey-colored tail swayed, making Li En’s fingers itch.

“Your aura is much weaker than yesterday.”

The sudden words startled Li En—had he been seen through?

Yesterday’s 30% synchronization with “Sul” was vastly stronger than Li En’s current 10%—a Sixth-Rank Grand Knight and a Second-Rank Knight weren’t even the same species.

Even at the same rank, a veteran and a novice wielded power on entirely different levels.

If it had been him yesterday, even the nobleman who’d undergone species leap would’ve been hard to kill, let alone the thieves in that black shop.

Li En didn’t know how to respond; Talia’s gaze now held pity—and respect.

“You became a degenerate; your power has been draining steadily. Your chances to act are precious. This time, you cleared a major threat for the bureau—we owe you. Say what you need.”

What the hell? Li En was utterly baffled.

But in Talia’s mind, a complete logic chain had formed.

This revered Oath Knight must have damaged his foundation defending justice, lost power through degeneration, been forced into retirement, and, with too many enemies, came to this foreign land to survive.

The power he clung to was his last lifeline, his only means of survival—but how could a battle-hardened man of justice ignore evil and brutality?

His oath and his righteous heart compelled him to draw his blade without hesitation.

That day’s “crazy enforcement” was likely his final desperate act, sensing his power slipping beyond saving, trying to resolve everything at once.

His current aura was less than a tenth of yesterday’s—he must have damaged his core, possibly shortening his lifespan. Degenerates rarely live long.

“Even like this, he still risks everything to uphold justice and fulfill his oath—doesn’t he care about his own future?”

Talia, having pieced it all together in her office, had wept.

“Our bureau needs clerks. If you’re willing, you can join us—we need your experience, and you won’t have to fight.”

At this sight, the prisoners in nearby cells were stunned.

Who didn’t know “Claw-Breaker,” the brutal, merciless boss of the docks’ Third Precinct? Who was this cat-woman blushing and clutching her tail?

Then the prisoners fell silent under a glare from “Claw-Breaker”—they shrank back into their cells, not daring to make a sound.

Li En was confused—he didn’t know how to respond. What had happened? Was this plot development… off?

The long corridor neared its end; Talia, receiving no expected reply, fell silent.

She didn’t know how to say what came next.

This honorable, righteous classical knight had suffered enough—now he would endure the greatest humiliation a man could face.

“The one who bailed you out… is your fiancée.”

“What?”

At the corridor’s end, a woman waited.

A desert rose tattoo curled along her graceful waist, vanishing beneath a pearl-embellished bustier.

She was none other than Sallyman S. Dar, the dazzling desert pearl and his unseen fiancée, the woman from the portrait Li En carried.

But now, her eyes were cold.

“Her family has some objections to that engagement.”

These whispered words were Talia’s final sympathy.

For the noble and tragic Sacred Oath-Bearer, about to suffer humiliation.

Li En opened his mouth wide, his face filled with shock.

“A classic rejection scenario? Could it be… I’m the protagonist of a rejection storyline?”

(End of Chapter)