Chapter 300: Pick Up the Sword

After more than a year of roughing it and traveling everywhere, time washed away the last trace of youthful immaturity on Arthur.

His originally fair skin had been tanned by sun and dust to a healthy wheat tone, his facial lines became harder and more defined, and his jawline was sharp and clean.

His pair of green eyes remained clear, yet they had accumulated more—compassion after witnessing hardship, resilience after enduring battles, and a composure beyond his years.

His aura became more inwardly gathered and profound, like a deep pool—calm on the surface, yet holding within it an immeasurable amount of power.

However, his cultivation realm seemed to have hit an invisible barrier, and he had been stalled for some time.

It wasn't due to lack of talent or effort—it was… well, he couldn't put it into words.

Yu Lin's calm face appeared in his mind, and Arthur murmured softly, as if asking his distant teacher, or perhaps himself: "Teacher, Inner Sage… how exactly can one truly achieve it?"

He shook his head, temporarily dispelling the tangled thoughts, and turned his gaze toward the forest ahead, which looked especially secluded in the moonlight.

The reason he was traveling day and night was that Merlin had sent word that he must return to the Royal Capital tomorrow to prepare for his coronation.

Merlin himself had gone ahead first because he had things to do; now only Arthur walked this final leg home alone.

However, just as the horse's hooves were about to step onto the forest path, Arthur suddenly tightened the reins, slowing the mount. His keen perception clearly sensed—dozens of unhidden, icy killing intents lurking in the darkness ahead!

"Enemies?" Arthur frowned slightly, his alertness spiking.

He swiftly dismounted and proceeded on foot.

His right hand naturally rested on the sword hilt at his waist, his left hand held the reins, and each step he took was steady and vigilant, like a leopard entering a hunting ground.

Just as he had gone only a dozen or so paces into the woods—

Swish! Swish! Swish!

The piercing sound of tearing air suddenly shattered the night's tranquility!

Immediately, a dense hail of arrows, like a blood‑thirsty locust swarm, shot out from the thickets on both sides, instantly sealing off every angle of evasion!

Arthur's eyes narrowed, and the right hand resting on his sword hilt moved!

Clang——!

The Stone Sword was drawn, accompanied by a clear, resonant sword chime, and a highly condensed, half‑moon‑shaped surge of Sword Aura swept outward!

Wherever the Sword Aura passed, it not only instantly crushed the dense rain of arrows into powder, but undiminished, it felled a wide swath of trees at their roots, clearing a chaotic open space!

Amid the drifting smoke and wood chips, the figures that had been hiding among the trees had nowhere to hide!

"Not bad, you have Level 6 ability at such a young age." A low voice tinged with approval sounded. Duke Bosite stepped out of the shadows, his gaze falling on Arthur.

"But sadly, it's still not enough."

"You're still too young; today you are destined to die here."

Arthur met his gaze without fear, his long sword pointing diagonally at the ground, and asked coldly:

"Who are you?"

Bosite perhaps thought Arthur was already a trapped turtle, unable to escape death, so he saw no need to hide it and simply uttered three words: "Bosite."

Arthur's pupils constricted slightly.

As the heir apparent about to ascend the throne, he naturally knew the weight of that name—one of the kingdom's most powerful dukes, and one of his strongest opponents on the path to the throne.

At this moment, the opponent's appearance here left no doubt about his intent.

But he said no more, merely raising his long sword steadily, tip pointing at Bosite, his voice calm yet carrying an unquestionable resolve: "Today, I will not die here."

Bosite had no more words, merely waving his hand indifferently: "Kill him."

At the command, his elite retainers behind him, like hounds given a signal, instantly burst forth with fierce killing intent, forming a battle line that surged toward Arthur like an iron torrent!

In an instant, blades and swords swallowed Arthur's figure.

Yet what followed instantly froze the composure on Bosite's face.

Facing the well‑trained, seamlessly coordinated elite assault, Arthur's figure flickered through the blade and sword light like a ghost.

His sword technique had no flashy flourishes—each strike was simple, precise, and efficient! Whether blocking, thrusting, or slashing, his movements flowed like clouds and water, as if he had already seen through everyone's attack lines.

Bang! Clang! Ah——!

Accompanied by a series of dull impacts, metallic clangs, and short cries, the retainers who had rushed forward, like leaves swept by a gale, flew back at greater speed and crashed heavily to the ground!

Their weapons flew from their hands, armor twisted, and they instantly lost combat ability, groaning in pain on the ground—yet none were killed, for Arthur, in the flash of steel, precisely controlled his force, injuring but not slaying!

Or rather, he was declaring to Bosite that his power far surpassed theirs!

The whole affair took only a handful of breaths.

Bosite's face paled dramatically; he realized he had gravely underestimated this young man!

Seeing the tide turn against him, he roared, his inner aura exploding forth, drew his treasure sword, and lunged at Arthur like a cannonball, his great sword descending with the force to split mountains and shatter stone!

This blow contained the sum of his lifelong cultivation!

Yet, facing this frenzied strike that had once defeated a Level 7 mage, Arthur merely shifted slightly sideways, his long sword seemingly lifting and guiding upward at random—

Ding!

A clear yet piercingly shrill ring!

Bosite felt only an indescribable, abyss‑deep force traveling up the sword; his tiger's mouth burst open instantly, his entire arm went numb, and the treasure sword that had accompanied him through many campaigns flew from his grasp, landing several meters away on the ground!

Moreover, he himself was staggered backward by the residual force, his knees buckling as he fell with a thud onto the ground.

He lifted his head, gazing at Arthur, still sword‑in‑hand and steady‑breathing, his eyes filled with utter shock, bewilderment, and incomprehension:

"No… impossible?! How could you possibly… be this strong?!"

Arthur did not answer his question.

He didn't even spare Bosite another glance, simply striding past the kneeling duke to a few meters away, turning his back to him.

Then he turned, and his voice came lightly:

"Pick up your sword."

"I'll give you one more chance to face me in a fair duel."