Chapter Thirty-Seven: Drawing the Sword

Arthur, who had been jovially chatting moments before, now stared at Lin Qi with a face ashen and grim, his solitary eye glinting with venomous cold light. He remained silent, clenching his fists tightly as he gazed at Lin Qi; beneath his feet, a thick stone slab suddenly cracked with several fine fissures.

From among the men surrounding Arthur, one middle-aged man with filthy, tangled hair—clearly unwashed for months—strode forward and barked harshly, “Where did this scoundrel come from, daring to speak to Young Master Arthur in such a manner? Kneel and apologize, or else—!”

Not only was this man’s hair disgustingly dirty, but his clothing was equally tattered, draped with cobwebs and moss. His appearance was worse than corpses found in garbage heaps; even from several meters away, a nauseating stench wafted from him. One could barely imagine how he had reached such a state.

Lin Qi paid him no mind, instead striding purposefully toward Arthur. The last remnants of the Tiger Potion were surging through Lin Qi’s marrow and muscles, releasing their final bursts of energy. He silently recited his family’s breathing techniques, his aura rolling like flowing water, mingling with the potion’s searing heat to invigorate his whole body.

As he walked, Lin Qi’s body emitted a deep, resonant crackling from his bones, clearly audible. He breathed deeply, and the snow within three feet of him danced with each breath, his exhalation billowing out like a dragon’s breath, streaming several meters ahead.

Arthur groaned softly, “Lin Qi, you’ve returned?”

He unconsciously touched his left eye, covered by a patch, his body trembling violently. His face was ashen, and beneath his composure lurked an unmistakable murderous intent. Yet, this killing intent flickered and faded, replaced by a dazzling smile blooming like a flower. With red hair, violet eyes, and strikingly handsome features, Arthur’s smile was like the legendary Sun God descending to earth.

Seeing Arthur’s smile, the other fierce-looking men at his side simultaneously released their grip on their sword hilts, glancing at Lin Qi in surprise. They wondered where Lin Qi found the audacity to speak so boldly to the eldest son of the Black Tiger family.

Only the filthy, ragged middle-aged man continued his advance, oblivious to Arthur’s strange expression. He shrieked, “Young Master Arthur, today is my first day in your service—let me use this boy’s blood to prove my loyalty to you!”

Lin Qi did not even glance at him, striding onward toward Arthur, sneering as he went. “Ah, not bad, Arthur. You’ve started collecting lackeys? Is this your new hire? Are you so short on copper coins that you can’t afford to clean him up before bringing him here? Remember, this is the ancestral home—such creatures appearing here bring shame to the family!”

He cast a sidelong glance at the aggressive middle-aged man, mocking, “Even a stray dog is cleaner than him!”

The middle-aged man’s fury had reached its peak. With a furious shout, he suddenly drew his sword and slashed at Lin Qi’s neck. Unlike Enzo’s usual rapier, he wielded a standard medium cavalry sword with a blade two fingers wide and about three feet long, sharpened only for the last foot or so. A faint blood-red gleam glimmered on its edge—clearly, this blade had tasted the blood of many.

As the blade rose, a subtle red glow enveloped it; the middle-aged man was, unmistakably, a rank knight.

But Enzo, following closely behind Lin Qi, also drew his sword—a four-foot, multi-edged rapier, its tip razor-sharp and glowing deep red with combat aura. Stepping nimbly with the army academy’s fencing footwork, Enzo swept to Lin Qi’s side like a gust of wind and, in the blink of an eye, thrust seven times at the middle-aged man.

Seven streaks of bloody sword-light tore through the air and the biting wind, shattering several snowflakes the size of a child’s palm before the blade.

The middle-aged man never expected Lin Qi to have such a formidable swordsman by his side. Enzo’s combat aura was stronger, his youth and muscle granting him greater strength, and his reaction speed was far superior. As the seven sword-lights rushed toward him, the man desperately withdrew his blade, slashing diagonally downward in a frantic attempt to defend.

The two swords collided—six sword-lights vanished, but one deftly slipped past the cavalry sword’s edge and pierced the man’s left shoulder. The rapier, capable of easily penetrating standard armor, drove through the shoulder and left a hole as wide as a thumb. Enzo swiftly withdrew his blade and, following through, kicked at the man’s abdomen.

Noble fencing typically forbade any action with the feet, but Enzo was no noble; he was a student of the military academy, and the army’s fencing doctrine differed radically. Its sole purpose was to kill the enemy as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Blood spattered everywhere. The man felt a sharp pain in his shoulder and howled, but before he could finish, Enzo’s iron-plated boot crashed into his abdomen. The dull impact resounded, and the man’s body was launched over a meter high, sent flying two meters away, vomiting blood.

His cavalry sword was flung far from him as he curled on the ground, clutching his stomach and convulsing in agony, blood pouring from his mouth.

Arthur’s smile froze momentarily, but he quickly forced an even brighter, warmer grin. “Lin Qi, when did you return? Why didn’t you notify the family so we could send someone to meet you at the dock?”

He regarded the middle-aged man’s injury with utter indifference, as if the swordsman he’d just recruited were nothing more than trash.

Lin Qi stepped in front of Arthur, his face dark, and threw a punch at Arthur’s face. This was a blow with all his might—his lifelong cultivation of combat aura, the brute strength honed from childhood, and the power bestowed by the Tiger Potion. Every muscle in his body was taut, leaving not a shred of energy unused.

The wind howled with his punch, and a faint orange glow shimmered around his fist.

Arthur’s expression changed; instinctively, he retreated several paces, shouting, “Lin Qi, what are you doing?”

Lin Qi said nothing, advancing rapidly, his fist whistling toward Arthur’s handsome face.

The remaining men at Arthur’s side turned grim, simultaneously drawing their swords. Five blades sliced through the air, each tracing a different arc to strike Lin Qi’s vital points. Regardless of Arthur’s reasons for smiling at Lin Qi, Lin Qi now threatened Arthur’s safety—and Arthur was their leader.

As the five men attacked Lin Qi, Enzo’s expression changed, and he hurriedly raised his sword to defend.