Business at the inn had rapidly picked up during Aldean’s absence. The entire staff had their hands full with providing services to a house full of guests.

A few people deliberated carefully on whether they should escape or not, convinced that it would be a matter of time until investigators showed up to investigate the death of Volan. This group was overall just a limited group that was bound to be replaced by a fresh influx of guests.

While rooms opened up and new guests poured in, so did the demands, taxing the humble establishment to the fullest.

As the daughter of the owner, Salara could ill-afford to slack off during such a time and busied herself on seemingly every single second.

Despite her workload, however, she still found time to check on Riaz every now and then; she had promised Aldean after all.

Such moments were welcome as, unbeknownst to her, she had changed ever since the incident and occasionally she’d feel anxious dealing with the inn’s guests.

Not long after his return, Aldean relieved her of her caretaker duties and used the precious medicine, that he was gifted by the Viscount, to mix up a rudimentary paste of bitter fragrance.

He carefully fed the medicine to his disciple, observing the contractions on his pallid face.

It without a doubt tasted considerably more bitter than it smelled, but, against Aldean’s expectations, his disciple ended up opening his eyes all of a sudden.

“You were awake?” asked Aldean with furrowed brows, suspecting that his disciple had been pretending to be asleep.

Riaz retched in confusion; it was a genuine reaction that invoked the impression of the boy having swallowed poison or the like.

“Pah, what is this?” he yapped and nearly spat the medicine out, but his teacher placed the palm of his hand over his mouth.

“Don’t you dare spit it out, you brat!” chided Aldean and quickly urged him, “Hurry and start absorbing the medicinal properties of the paste before it goes to waste!”

Drowsy as Riaz was, he had trouble comprehending the situation but followed his teacher’s instructions on how to absorb the medicine without second guessing it.

He had awoken earlier but ended up dozing off after a while. He was so tired that he had not even picked up on his teacher’s presence; not until he was fed the most disgusting thing that he had ever tasted.

His mind had yet to settle down.

While he was unconscious, he had a dream of being chased by people while a man and woman protected him from harm. The dream felt so real; the sensation of pain most of it all.

If things were the same as before, he’d be flustered by the glimpses of his past; however, the current him had accepted that the past was a part of him and, as such, something he ought to listen to and learn from.

As a matter of fact, he had a lot to process, but his injured body demanded his foremost attention.

It was unclear how much time had passed since he had begun absorbing the medicine, but, once he had fully absorbed it, he looked down at himself and discovered that he was bandaged up once more.

‘It happened again.’ Riaz thought.

While he did try to lift up his body once, the piercing pain discouraged him from trying again. Ultimately, he settled back into a comfortable lying position and turned his head to one side, looking at Aldean.

“Teacher, how long has it been since I was out?” asked Riaz with a weak voice.

Aldean replied, “Not long. You’ve slept through the night, that’s all.”

Riaz thought back to last night’s events.

A lot had happened and some of it still felt surreal, but one fact, that he was certain of, was that he had consciously killed a young man. He had cut a life short and what concerned him now was that he really didn’t know how to feel about it.

A part of him felt his actions were quite justified, while another questioned if there really was no other way.

Aldean noticed his disciple turning his head to the other side with a downcast expression.

He tapped Riaz’s foot and asked, “Are you upset that you had to deal with your own mess without my help?”

Riaz threw his teacher a mean look, but the latter shrugged it off with a snort. “Brat, you’ve had multiple opportunities to end your opponent’s life during that exchange, yet always opted to hold back. Are you really going to blame me for your own shortcomings? Who taught you to be so soft?”

Riaz shook his head, complaining in a hoarse voice, “I didn’t hold back. The outcome of the duel could have favored either side at any moment.”

Aldean nearly snapped. Did this brat think him blind? Did he truly underestimate his trained eyes? To him, it was clear as day that Riaz had hesitated and even relinquished the initiative at times, not accounting for the times when he could have aimed for Volan’s vital points, saving himself the hassle of a prolonged battle.

“Do you want a beating, you brat? Now you even dare to lie to your teacher?” He raised a fist to threaten Riaz.

Riaz panicked, cawing loudly, “Don’t! I am a patient, help! Help! Somebody!”

“Alright then, my idiotic disciple, then how will you weasel your way around the fact that you turned your back towards your opponent?” asked Aldean, hitting a nerve with Riaz.

The youth stammered, “I-I know it was bad, but it happened only cause I really overestimated my opponent’s moral character.”

Aldean repeatedly blinked, “What? Did I hear wrongly or something? Just what kind of moral character did you expect a frivolous trash like him to have?”

He pinched Riaz’s leg, coercing a yelp from his disciple, “Did you forget why you fought him in the first place, o hero?”

The words didn’t stop coming out of Aldean’s mouth. He was normally so quiet, but now there seemed to be no end to the beratement.

Riaz didn’t know what to say. He could only turn his head away and thicken his skin, pretending not to hear.

He rolled his eyes and thought to himself, ‘Why can’t I catch a break? Isn’t a patient supposed to rest? It’s like he only ever talks a lot when he has something to complain about.’

Although he hated getting an earful, he knew deep down that his teacher didn’t miss out on anything during the battle and was right about him in many regards.

It was true that he could have killed Volan not long after the start of the duel, but he subconsciously pulled his punches, as one might say. It became clear in retrospect.

He truly reflected on his shortcomings and, playing back the duel in his mind, thought back to the times he could have gained the upper-hand.

There clearly was a lot of room for improvement, but there was one thing that his teacher was wrong about. He didn’t consciously choose to pull his punches.

Riaz had given it his all in the fight, though his subconscious mind held him back at the critical moments. He wasn’t born a killer and he didn’t want to become one, if given the choice.

As the room continued to fill up with Aldean’s bitter reproach, Riaz delved deeper into his memories.

There was a lot that he had to figure out for himself, but, nonetheless, he remembered to mention some things that were important for Aldean to hear.

He forced himself to sit, despite the pain, and interrupted Aldean, “That’s right, teacher! I have remembered something. Please, listen!”

Riaz then told Aldean about the time in his memories when he was afflicted with chest pains. He mentioned being escorted by two people, one of which gave him the ring, while the other gave him the pendant.

It had all taken place in Mirad Forest.

Aldean listened attentively to everything, the muscles around his eyes contracting from time to time. There was a lot he wanted to ask, but he had the feeling that his disciple didn’t hold anything back and asking would be useless.

“… so that’s when that person Luvia used some weird magic and I don’t remember anything after that.” Riaz finished his narration.

Aldean sat on a chair with his arms folded, tapping the fingers of one hand against his upper arm.

“Brat, that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me.” Aldean rubbed his chin and joked, “Who would have it out for a wimp like you? You don’t seem all that important.”

Riaz spat, “Are you important then? It’s hard to keep in mind, since teacher was so quick to blend in with the background when his disciple was in trouble.”

Aldean cupped his ear with one hand, “Can you speak up? I could hardly hear you over that pathetic stammering of a weakling. Do I need to leave the room so you can cry?”

The master and disciple pair bickered for a while, until Aldean finally turned serious.

“Still…” he said, after which he stood up and moved to fetch a tiny pouch.

After crossing the room, his butt plopped back onto his chair and he took out the crystal pendant from within the pouch.

Riaz looked at the translucent object in his teacher’s hands and felt a longing for it.

He was hopeful that his teacher would choose to return it, but the latter quietly inspected the pendant before his eyes, showing no indication of handing it over.

After a while, Aldean lowered the pendant with disappointment and Riaz stared at him expectantly.

“No chance,” breathed Aldean. “I can’t discover anything. In the end, only a highly knowledgeable mage should be able to make something of it, if anyone at all.”

Riaz didn’t feel too disappointed. He was in no hurry to uncover the nature of the pendant. All that mattered to him now was that people important to him had entrusted him with it.

Riaz switched the subject, “Then, about that mark…”

“The mark? Leave it. Its secrets are not something either of us can pry into,” said Aldean decisively.

Riaz pondered over the mark, but had to concur with his teacher’s opinion. Since he couldn’t get any answers now, even if he wanted to, he was better off not thinking about it too deeply.

There was so much for him to worry about already and he really didn’t have the capacity to get hung up on every single thing.

Maybe other people would ridicule him for being so decisively ignorant in face of potential trouble in the making, but what else could he do in the present situation?

He’d rather focus on getting stronger and worrying about the rest later.

“So, what now?” he asked, speaking with greater ease compared to before.

“We’ll stay here for now. Keep circulating your qi and recover as much as you can. We’ll set out once you’re somewhat fit to travel and maybe, if lady luck is on our side, we will reach our destination in time.” Aldean leaned back against the chair and kicked up his feet, resting them against one side of the bed.

Riaz relaxed as well and laid back down. He chose to do as his teacher said and wholeheartedly focused on recovering his strength.

As his senses spread out to cover every inch of his body, he could feel that the pathways in his body had expanded, allowing for greater amounts of qi to pass through.

He began circulating his internal energy and the vitality of his qi washed through the farthest parts of his body, nourishing it.

When he inspected the extent of his injuries, he was surprised to discover that a majority of the damage had healed already. He sensed the traces of a foreign energy inside his body: it was an energy that differed from the healing essence he had absorbed earlier.

Since it seemed to benefit rather than harm him, he chose to ignore the residual energy and instead focused on his recovery.

Over the next two days, Riaz proceeded to make great progress.

He cultivated most of the time and as for the times when he didn’t, he usually chatted with Salara about various things of little import.

As they talked, he learned more about her and her life growing up in Gridan. She considered herself fortunate to grow up in a household with a business, but those without a talent or profession had it hard to live well under the policies of the Viscount.

Their conversation prompted Riaz to imagine his own potential upbringing. He held onto some clues but dared not speculate too deeply.

‘It would be great if I had family.’ Riaz thought and caught himself thinking back to Obrid and the girls. A bunch of mixed feelings welled up in him.

His strength gradually recovering, he now had enough strength to sit on the bedside and eat the meals that Salara brought to him during her breaks.

Those meals were cooked by her and she would always stay to watch him eat while they exchanged some words.

Riaz was relieved to hear that no one had come looking to cause trouble for the innkeeper and his daughter but felt bad for his teacher, who had to deal with no shortage of people paying him a visit during the past two days.

Mostly, Riaz was to blame for it, since he refused to keep his head down and brought all of this attention to his teacher. While he was a nobody, he understood that his teacher was a great personage that attracted many people who’d send their representatives or came in person.

At first, Aldean would just tell them off, but soon enough it became a pretty common occurrence for people be thrown out of the second floor window.

The message couldn’t have been clearer; stay away or take flying lessons.

Those of status who wished to reach out to Aldean could only begrudgingly give up before risking to lose face like some of the others had done.

Personally, Riaz had not seen much of his teacher in the past two days, so the news of those incidents was just something he had heard from Salara.

In fact, he had only ever seen Salara for the past two days and no one else but her. He had fully expected that the city militia or the Viscount would come to drag him away, but neither came to pass for some reason.

He wondered if his teacher had done something but didn’t have the chance to ask. From Salara he could glean that Aldean paid a visit to some high rank noble which helped take his mind of some worries.

‘Salara, have you seen my swords anywhere?” Riaz looked towards Salara, who sat at on the chair next to the bed, as he lowered the bowl of soup in his hands.

Salara jumped in her seat, “What? Oh… I’m not sure. Are you talking about that leather bag? I’d have to ask my dad.”

Riaz raised the bowl to his lips and gulped down the remainder of the soup. He smacked his lips and declared, “I should take a few steps. Might as well look for your dad and ask him about the swords myself while I’m at it.”

“You can’t!” Salara reached out with her small hands and pushed against his chest. She didn’t have much strength compared to Riaz, but his upper body gave in under her pressure and leaned back regardless.

Salara hadn’t expected for his body to give so easily, leading to her losing balance and falling forward. Their chests collided and Riaz reflexively grabbed her by the shoulders to prevent her from hurting herself.

Both fell silent when their eyes met. The distance between their faces had shrunk immensely and Salara’s eyes fluttered nervously as their quickened heartbeats transmitted to each other through their touch.

Strength drained from his hands with a twitch of his nose.

‘Why does she always smell so nice?’ thought Riaz to himself. His hands, that held onto her fragile shoulders, didn’t listen to him and, although slightly, trembled without pause.

“I…” Riaz released her from his hold and stammered, “Sorry, that… I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Salara remained oblivious to the withdrawal of his hands and quickly fired back, “It’s my fault… You are injured and I…”

Her words were spoken quietly, trailing off towards the end.

She pulled herself away and Riaz felt slightly disappointed. The warmth from her touch quickly dissipated until there was none left to feel.

This tiny incident had rattled his mind and left him unable to fully cope with the flurry of emotions that bombarded him for a short period.

Salara hurried onto her feet and straightened her dress out with fidgeting hands. She brushed down strands of her pecan-brown hair, hoping to hide her beet-red face while sneaking a furtive glance at Riaz.

Looking at the bare upper half of his body, which was only covered partially by bandages and nowhere near enough to veil his toned muscles, she felt weak in her knees. His ashen hair was a mess, but added to the dangerous air his entire appearance gave off at that time.

She had to remind herself that this youth was a righteous young man, otherwise she’d get the fooled into thinking that she was in the presence of a handsome, rogue vagabond.

“P-please, stay in bed and get more rest.” Salara bowed slightly and rushed out of the room.

“Then, I will take it easy for a bit longer.” Riaz caved and watched her leave until the door fell shut.

He placed his hand over his chest and took note of the intensity with which his heart hammered against it.

Suddenly, he was startled by the re-opening of the door. It was his teacher who stepped through the threshold and took immediate notice of his disciple’s flushed expression.

A knowing expression formed on Aldean’s face and he smirked with a tinge of smugness showing.

“Brat, you’re quick when comprehending the sword, but your teacher can’t help but worry that you’ve developed too much of an interest in swords.”

He swaggered over, resting a sheathed sword against his shoulder, practically flaunting the sheen of its brand-new scabbard.

Aldean clicked his tongue. “It’s natural that you lack experience. As your teacher, I have no problem sharing with you the secret art of womanizing, all you have to do is ask.”

A mixture of embarrassment and wounded pride churned inside of Riaz and he angrily threw his bowl at Aldean.

“Haap!” shouted Aldean, drawing the sword in his hands in one fluid motion and cutting through the bowl with a swift stroke.

The two halves of the bowl smashed to the floored in quick succession. A clean, smooth blade was held outstretched; Riaz could look upon it from the side and couldn’t help but marvel.

It was a sleek, long blade with a curved guard. Both sides of the blade were sharp and he could practically see himself reflected on its shiny steel.

“Teacher… this sword?” he asked in confusion.

Aldean sheathed the blade and extended the whole sword. “It’s yours.”

Riaz accepted it with both hands, pulling the sword closer toward his face. With one brief pull, he drew out the shoulder of the blade and stared at it.

Aldean spoke, “For all the troublesome mistakes you’ve made, you have still proven yourself to be a warrior. It is only fitting that you have a sword to call your own.”

The way in which Riaz looked at his teacher changed, as his gaze had visibly softened in that moment.

He had never expected to receive a present like this, especially after blatantly disobeying his teacher a couple of days ago. He wasn’t sure if he deserved it, but he would be lying if he denied feeling good about the gift.

His eyes returned to the sword and he pulled out the rest of the sword in one pull.

The balance of the sword felt just right. There was little difference to what he was most used to which was essentially the long sword from his dreams; it was also the type of sword he had chosen to practice.

“Thank you.” Riaz smiled from ear to ear.

Aldean pulled over the chair and sat backwards on it, his arms draped over the backrest. He struck a stern tone and lectured Riaz seriously.

“It is a nice clean sword, but stands in contrast to the walkers, those that walk the path of cultivation. A warrior cannot avoid staining their blade. Your mercy is misplaced, even more so on the path of the sword.”

Riaz’s mouth opened and closed. In the end he was unsure what to say.

Aldean sighed, “I know, brat, believe me that I do. Your heart is in the right spot, but compassion is a fool’s gamble; you’d do well to remember that.”

Riaz could read traces of melancholy in his teacher’s eyes. He could tell that those words were laced with a heavy history.

He pondered, ‘But, can I really live by such a cold-blooded rule? Don’t the strong have the right to decide whether to kill or let live?’

Riaz thought about it deeply, noting the palpable unease in his chest when he imagine himself as an indiscriminate butcher.

He ended up asking, “Teacher, do warriors always have to kill? What if there exists some misunderstanding? What if there are hidden circumstances that force your opponent’s hand? Do you have to cut them all down regardless?”

At the very least, Riaz thought there ought to be some examination. If one put his head to it, he should eventually arrive at a solution: that’s what he liked to think.

Aldean frowned, “Then that blue blood you’ve fought, was he someone you could talk down? Did someone force his hand to aim at your neck? Did a misunderstanding lead to him laying hands on that girl?”

Riaz replied, “No, but even he is someone’s child. He was raised in a particular way, thinking himself above the common people. Can you fault him for his lot? He has probably never encountered opposition before; someone who’d point out his behavior and told him it was wrong.”

Aldean shook his head, “You’re thinking too deeply about this. He was a grown up, capable of his own choices. Sympathize all you like, but, in the end, all that matters is who survives and who doesn’t.”

He stood up and walked over to Riaz while he spoke, “I know you want to become strong. That’s fair, however…”

“At some point you will have to ask yourself: what am I swinging this sword for?” he explained, bumping his fist against Riaz’s chest. “Until you know the answer, you have to do everything in your power to survive.”

Riaz asked, “Isn’t it enough to swing my sword in order to become stronger?”

“It’s not the same,” replied Aldean and lifted one finger. “What is strength to you? Is strength the reason that you killed someone that night? I am sure it’s not. You had to kill him, because he was the enemy. You had to kill him to survive.”

Riaz listened closely, letting the words resonate with his own perspectives.

Aldean continued, “The sword is a weapon; it exists to kill. Desire strength all you like, but swing your sword with conviction. Those that wish to become strong can’t escape danger. There will be many hurdles in your path, but, when it’s time to draw the sword, what will be the conviction behind your every swing?”

Once his teacher ended the lecture, Riaz decided to voice a question that’s been hovering in his mind.

“Teacher, why do you swing your sword?”

Aldean gave a rare smile, “I swing my sword to remain free. I shall live and die by the sword, knowing I was free.”

Riaz’s eyes widened. He repeated Aldean’s words inside his head.

He couldn’t help but feel his heart pounding at those words.

‘That’s so manly. I’d expect no less from teacher.’ Riaz admired his teacher silently.

He had the feeling that he could sort of understand what his teacher was trying to say.

Everyone on the path of cultivation wants to become stronger, but that alone can’t serve to guide them. The reason he couldn’t bring himself to kill Volan so easily, it must be because he hadn’t found the proper conviction yet.

He ended up killing him regardless. He did it to survive, but in that moment, was that all there was to it?

Aldean, seeing his disciple in deep thought, was fully satisfied.

He knew that his disciple had yet to grasp the deeper meaning behind his words, but he wasn’t worried. His disciple was bound to arrive at the answer one day, provided he lived until then.

That line of thought reminded Aldean of the ordeal awaiting Riaz at their destination.

He cleared his throat and announced, “Disciple. You have truly embarked on the path of the warrior. You have killed, but more importantly, you have put your life on the line against the impossible. It’s only right that I tell you the real purpose behind our journey south.”

Riaz’s eyes lit up.

He understood that they were traveling south to meet a deadline, but his teacher always avoided his questions. He knew it was something that would put him in great danger, but surely his teacher had his own considerations and it was bound to be equally fruitful.

Riaz spoke with determination, “Please tell me!”