Chapter 366
It went back to before the chaos—before Uga and Michael clashed.
Back when the match between Prince Rui and Renn was ongoing.
The Lionheart Kingdom had long since been buzzing with rumors about the Duke’s competition.
Word had reached even the most remote regions, and the capital, the stage of the event, was naturally no exception.
But for all the noise, some didn’t truly care.
That is, until Prince Rui arrived.
The moment the Empire’s prince stepped foot in the kingdom, everything changed.
It wasn’t just his status—though that alone was enough to shake the political balance—but what came with him: the reveal of a legendary ruin.
The Prince whom Duke Evermoon had allied with didn’t even bother to attend the finals anymore.
Why should he?
His plans were dust. The very presence of Rui, for multiple reasons, made any schemes meaningless.
Not just because of his bloodline.
But because of his personal power.
But even so, those who initially dismissed the tournament began to pay closer attention.
Grand Knight Verren, however, had not been among them.
Despite being one of the kingdom’s most respected figures, Verren typically didn’t involve himself in noble disputes.
His allegiance was to stability, not politics.
So when whispers of the tournament reached his residence in the capital’s core district, he remained unmoved.
Even when the matches began and faint pulses of mana echoed through the air, brushing against his senses like ripples in a pond, he paid no mind.
Until that moment.
A Grand Tier aura erupted.
Fierce, raw, unfamiliar.
And with it—a sensation he was all too familiar with.
Sword Qi.
Verren shot up from his seat, his eyes narrowing.
Someone in the capital had used Sword Qi.
That alone warranted attention.
He knew how rare people who could use Qi were.
Even he had to use centuries to grasp Sword Qi through relentless effort.
There were humans in the Empire who lived twice as long and still never touched it.
Without hesitation, Grand Knight Verren moved. He didn’t fly—he couldn’t—but with a single leap, he vanished from his home, soaring across rooftops like a shadow.
Moments later, he landed lightly on one of the tallest pillars outside the coliseum.
From there, he peered in.
And what he saw stunned him.
Not just the battlefield—but the figures.
One of them, tall and calm, exuding a chillingly aura. His presence screamed of nobility, but his blood—it was more than that.
Imperial bloodline.
Verren didn’t need an introduction to know.
That youth was from the Empire. A royal.
And the other?
The boy wielding a wooden sword.
Simple stance. But his every move was honed to perfection. There was no flash, no waste. Just pure swordsmanship.
And then—it happened.
Sword Qi again.
Not borrowed. Not faked. Real.
His eyes widened slightly.
A Perfect Realm swordsman?
In the capital?
In a tournament?
And so young?
It was so absurd.
And yet, he could see it clearly.
The pressure that boy released, the intent behind every strike, the absolute control—this wasn’t some fluke.
Whoever this Renn was from the commentator’s mouth, he was the real thing.
The longer Grand Knight Verren watched, the more intrigued he became.
Renn was a genius. Not in the overused sense nobles liked to throw around, but a true one. The kind that appeared once in a generation.
Every movement the boy made flowed naturally from intent to execution. There was no excessive flourish. No wasted steps. His stance, his footwork, his awareness—it was like watching a sword that had been forged through pressure and time, but not yet quenched.
And he was still young.
Verren could see it.
Renn’s sword path hadn’t even bloomed yet.
It was raw—but it was there. A foundational understanding.
Unlike Michael, who was strong and had dangerous summons, Renn walked the single sharp line of the blade.
And while the necromancer was undeniably terrifying, Renn was…
Appealing.
Familiar.
This was the kind of opponents Verren longed for.
He reminded Verren of himself.
And that was when the thought struck him.
For the first time in his life, Grand Knight Verren entertained an idea he had never once considered.
To take a disciple.
The thought was so sudden, so strange, that he nearly dismissed it outright. But it clung to him.
Was this how his master had felt, all those years ago?
He remembered the gruff old man’s scowl. His endless criticisms. The brutal training sessions. And above all, he remembered the quiet pride the man never showed but always carried behind his words.
Verren had hated him.
And loved him more than anyone else in the world.
Back then, he was reckless. Arrogant. Sharp like an untamed blade. It was his master who forged him into something more.
And now, watching this boy from afar, Verren couldn’t help but feel something within hum.
Their swordsmanship was going to be different from the little he had seen—but in his eyes, Renn was familiar to him back then
That quiet defiance. That unwillingness to bend, even when facing someone far stronger.
And just as Grand Knight Verren allowed the thought to settle in his mind, something happened in the arena that snapped his focus back with razor clarity.
Renn moved.
It wasn’t like before.
There was a sudden shift in rhythm, like the snap of a string on a lute.
The boy was crafting a new move.
On the spot.
He was creating.
And then it snapped.
The Sword Qi burst from his strike.
It collided with Rui.
The impact sent the prince stumbling.
Verren who was usually expressionless had a smile on his face.
Verren couldn’t take his eyes off him.
“Renn…” he said again.
He wasn’t just interested anymore.
He was invested.
And for the first time in decades, Grand Knight Verren made a quiet decision.
He would speak with the boy.
No matter what, he would make Renn his disciple.
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