‘This isn’t really formidable, is it?’ Andric wanted to ask while he practiced the Burning Palm Technique. A full sixteen nights passed since he entered Radegart, but he still hadn’t gotten around to working on his other martial techniques. Of course, he was only practicing the first rank of the Burning Palm Technique, but the power he displayed didn’t match up with what the book described the martial technique to be capable of. At the very least, he should’ve been able to char pieces of dry firewood. At the moment, he could only make the firewood heat up by a few degrees.

When Andric left the cave, he had already learned the Burning Palm Technique, the Silent Gallop Technique, and the Boulder Crushing Sword Technique to a level that allowed him to use them casually, but he was far from bringing out their full power. Even at the present, after weeks of practicing the Burning Palm Technique and almost a week of practicing the Silent Gallop Technique, he hadn’t mastered either one.

In the system used by magicians, there were no techniques that needed to be mastered before they could be used. A magician only needed to learn how to use their arcane core and brain to mix mana and thought energy. Once they did that, they could use any spell they wanted.

At this time, Andric understood how the martial way differed from the path of magic. To magicians, there was only mastery. There was no way for a magician to use a partially complete spell. Martialists, though, could use martial techniques while only barely understanding the underlying principles. The ability to comprehend magic came in less than one percent of the population, but martial techniques could be partially mastered by ninety-nine percent of the population.

The martial way existed for quantity, not quality. Out of the millions of martialists who tread on the path, very few might reach the end.

Andric didn’t let his failure to master the Burning Palm Technique lower his spirits. He paid for twenty more nights at the tavern, at a large meal, and decided to move onto practicing the second rank of the Burning Palm Technique.

Inside the tavern, while Andric was eating, he listened to the conversations going on around him. It had been a long time since he leisurely talked to someone, but he didn’t mind that so much. In actuality, he wanted to hear news. In Einburg, Andric always heard about the state of the kingdom from Gasto and Roza, who heard it from the other townspeople. In towns like Einburg and Radegart, news was slow to arrive, and only the most precious pieces were delivered the thousand-plus miles from the capital.

A few years ago, Hochland had entered a minor war with the kingdom of Baugland, but that war ended before Andric’s day of adulthood. The results of the war were mixed, but most reports stated that Hochland retreated after taking a minor piece of land from Baugland. In the history of Hochland, Baugland was one of the kingdoms they regularly bullied, and small conflicts broke out between them every few decades.

Recently, there were talks of Hochland invading Hilzland. Allegedly, Hochland ships had already bombarded Hilzland ports while the Hilzland ships were frozen in. A ground campaign couldn’t be done in the winter, and Hochland had supposedly reached water superiority before the war was even officially declared. Without their ships, Hilzland would have a harder time importing food, which would make them weaker in the spring, when Hochland would likely send its armies of martialists to attack.

The reception of the war by the townspeople of Radegart was poor. Whenever the kingdom waged war, grain taxes soared for several months afterward. During winter, towns like Radegart survived by eating grains they stored from their fall harvest and slaughtered animals that could be salted and frozen to last for months. If the Hochland army attacked Hilzland, they would need to bring an immense amount of food with them, which they would have to take from towns like Radegart.

“The war won’t be so bad, this time. By eliminating Hilzland’s ability to import food, they’ve crippled them. Once spring rolls around, the Hilzland army will be starving, or their citizens will be revolting. If they want to survive, their only hope would be for an expert to use a storage object to smuggle in food from the south. But, how many storage objects are there in Hilzland? Ten? Twenty? Even if they have fifty, they’re putting all their hopes on fifty people making a journey across thousands of miles, buying an astronomical amount of food, and trekking all the way back,” a townsperson calmly analyzed about the situation.

Indeed, as he said, storage objects were incredibly rare. In Hochland, only the most powerful martialists or the highest members of the government could have one. Andric had no idea how Veremund managed to obtain one, since the previous owner had to be either incredibly powerful or backed by an incredibly powerful organization.

The hard truth of the matter was that Hilzland didn’t have enough food to last through the winter. To import food from a neutral kingdom, they would need to send merchants at least three thousand miles. Such a long journey would take months to complete, which meant only Adept realm martialists - with their ability to fly - could travel it in a timely manner. To support their soldiers, Hilzland could only entrust their Adept realm martialists with an immensely difficult task or ration their remaining food by stealing it from their citizens.

“It sounds like this war is a good chance to make a name for myself. I’ll sign up in spring and obtain a good rank by summer!” a youth optimistically spoke.

Andric looked over the youth, and he vaguely sensed the youth’s martial realm. He wasn’t aware of the ability at first, but it appeared that high-realm martialist could detect low-realm martialists. Every human naturally had a seventh sense that allowed them to sense dangers, and that sense only became more powerful as they progressed along the martial way. While Apprentice realm martialists and higher were impossible for Andric to see through, he could identify Novice realm and below martialists.

In the tavern with Andric, there were many Human realm martialists and only a few Novice realm martialists. There were no Apprentice realm martialists, but that was also true in the significantly larger town of Einburg.

“A boy who hasn’t even been waned off his mother’s teat doesn’t have any place at the battlefield!” a middle-aged man loudly said while leaning back in his chair. “A shitty Human realm brat is only destined to die in a fight between kingdoms!”

“I will survive! I will temper my spirit with the flames of battle!” the youth announced. Around the tavern, several patrons laughed at his enthusiasm.

Andric raised his head and spoke, “If you think you’re tough, you wouldn’t mind sparing with me, right?”

Several heads turned to Andric and watched him, but he didn’t say anything else. Since he arrived in Radegart, he hadn’t spoken to anyone except the employees of the tavern. Although many people had seen him, nobody ever tried talking to him. He usually ate quickly, then went to his room and slept.

“Sure, I’ll fight anybody,” the youth agreed, raising a fist.

A Novice realm martialist grabbed the youth’s arm and said, while looking at Andric, “Hold on, he’s at the Novice realm.”

In the martial world, it wasn’t uncommon for martialists to kill weaker martialists. The martial way was fraught with peril, and death could be had at any moment. The older man worried for the safety of the young man when Andric offered to fight him.

“I only want to practice with a new martial technique of mine. Nobody should get hurt too badly,” Andric said. He really had no intention other than to practice the Burning Palm Technique in combat.

The young man had lived in Radegart for all his life and worked in the fields with his friends and relatives. In addition to practicing his meditation technique, he also practiced martial arts, which were only slightly inferior to martial techniques. Martial arts couldn’t make flames erupt from one’s hand, but they could allow a martialist to fight without using spirit energy on costly martial techniques. They were difficult to train in, and very few people practiced them.

“I’ll fight him! I’ll fight anybody who wants to!” the young man exclaimed and walked closer to Andric. “My name is Farvald, and I challenge you to a martial battle!”

“Sit down!” the older man bellowed, shocking many patrons in the tavern.

Only the old man and a few others were truly knowledgeable about the martial way, and they knew there was something strange about Andric. It had to be said that Andric was a few months away from turning sixteen, and for him to be at the Novice realm at his age was utterly outstanding. Nobody in the tavern could think of a single person who had entered the Novice realm within a year of turning sixteen except for the descendents of sects or powerful clans. Those descendents were rarely humble people, and they never held back. If Andric permanently injured the young man or killed him, there wouldn’t be anything a small town like Radegart could do to retaliate, unless they wanted their town to be obliterated by Andric’s senior.

Andric thought there was nothing wrong with having a friendly spar. He hadn’t lived long enough to see wealthy young masters using the backing of their clan to take whatever they wanted from villages. Allowing Farvald to spar with Andric might incur personal injuries, and having someone else spar with Andric might incur wrath from a powerful entity.

“War is no place for a man without the courage to fight a stronger opponent. Here, if you want to flee, you know the terrain well enough to find a place to hide, and you’re surrounded by friends. If you’re on a battlefield and meet a Novice realm soldier, do you think he’s going to allow you to leave just because you’re weaker than him? We should spar, so you can learn the difference between a Human realm martialist and a Novice realm martialist,” Andric calmly explained to Farvald. His words also reached the older man, making him less resolute on not allowing Farvald to fight.

“Uncle, let me fight him. I’ll show you that not even a Novice realm martialist can take me down,” the young man said to the older man, but he was less enthusiastic than he was at the start of the conversation.

The older man looked at his nephew, then at Andric. He finally sighed and said, “Alright, but don’t let yourself get too hurt.”

“Haha, you’ll surely be impressed,” Farvald said, then walked toward the exit of the tavern. Andric drank a gulp from his glass of wine and then followed him.

The two of them went into the street in front of the tavern and faced off against each other. They stood about thirty feet apart, which was the standard distance for martial duels. Farvald was energetic, ready to have his first duel to prove himself, and he didn’t even try to go over the rules of the duel with Andric. He hurriedly asked, “When do we start?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Andric replied, and the spirit energy inside his body began to circulate.