Chapter Seventeen: Let Me Show You a Martial Art

Having failed to uphold his manly dignity, Linley was deeply dejected.

That afternoon, the leopard accompanied him for a stroll. Outwardly docile, it was inwardly gripped by an urge to pounce and tear him apart at any moment. Yet it suppressed this impulse with all its might—for though Linley was completely unwary, his reflexes were astonishingly quick. The leopard knew it would have only one chance; should it fail, it might not end up as a choir member, but as the mother of the entire chorus.

There would be but a single opportunity, one it must seize only when safety was certain—and the leopard knew precisely when that would be: when the boy was asleep. In slumber, he was utterly defenseless, and with no guards nearby, it would be the perfect moment.

Alas, Linley had no habit of napping at midday. The leopard endured a whole day of patience, planning to make its move at night. Yet when evening came, and it found itself locked in the garden’s cage, it brooded for a long while before realizing something crucial: the boy had never once considered bringing his pet into the house!

“Damn brat, after all my fawning, you still leave me here to freeze in the garden.”

Gnashing its teeth, the leopard was loath to spend the night outdoors—too cold, the wind howling, and in the nearby cages, four male leopards snored thunderously.

Could these brutes never sleep in peace?

After a sleepless night, the leopard’s eyes were bloodshot. Heaven help her—if those four uncouth males ever came close, she’d sooner end her own life.

The more furious she became, the calmer her mind grew.

“No, I must first escape this garden!”

No matter how detestable that little brat was, she had to win his favor; only then might she enter his chamber, sleep in comfort... and then seek her revenge.

In the morning, Linley arrived at the garden punctually. In the span of a single day, he had recovered from the shadow cast by the earrings and, cheerful once more, ordered a sumptuous vegetarian feast prepared for the leopard.

As the leopard ate, Linley’s eyes remained fixed on its back.

A sense of foreboding surged within the leopard.

“Little White, may I ride you?”

As expected, Linley uttered the words the leopard least wished to hear.

He wants to ride me! He wants me as his mount! How could a dignified druid like myself stoop to being your steed? After all the indignities I’ve suffered, now you want to ride me? This is intolerable!

Breakfast became tasteless as ashes in the leopard’s mouth.

“...Very well...climb on...”

Yet after breakfast, catching sight of a few prowling male leopards nearby, the leopard swallowed its tears, crouched down, and presented its back to Linley.

Linley nimbly mounted, gripping the leopard’s fur. “Little White, let’s run!”

The leopard began to run, longing to make a sharp turn and send him flying—but with that fellow’s physical strength, it was impossible to injure him. Resigned, it could only stifle its impulses and obediently carry Linley as he rode.

“Heavens, that druid...”

“No shame at all, absolutely disgraceful!”

“She’s being ridden—she’s actually being ridden!”

A number of royal magicians, on their way to work, stopped in their tracks, eyes wide in disbelief at the sight. The leopard, hearing their jeers from afar, felt a deep sense of humiliation.

These damned forest elves—once I become an archdruid, I will see to their end!

Doing its utmost to cooperate, the leopard ran for half an hour before Linley, satisfied, dismounted.

“Little White, I’ll make you a feast for lunch.”

He reached out to stroke its head.

This time, his touch was perfectly gentle—the leopard had not expected such a side of him. Its head tingled pleasantly, a strange sensation welling up, and it no longer felt quite so miserable.

“You didn’t train yesterday. Are you planning to skip today as well?”

At that moment, Linley’s earring spoke.

“Not today, teacher,” Linley replied to the distant orb of light. “I want to play with Little White.”

“No, you’re getting far too lax.”

“But my body’s already very strong!” Linley protested, pleased enough that the magicians dared not come near him.

“Physical strength is not the same as true power, Linley. How many people in this world will engage you in a fistfight?” The earring laughed. “You might not even beat a mage apprentice. He has the Blink spell—you could never catch him. What good is brute strength?”

Linley was stunned. Was he really so weak?

The earring pressed on, merciless. “And even if someone did fight you hand-to-hand, apprentice warriors and rogues all use weapons. Are you planning to pit your fists against their blades?”

“I...” Linley was briefly speechless. So he was this feeble after all!

That would never do—how could he stand to be so weak?

“I’d better go train!” he declared at once, which the earring approved of, pleased with his willingness to amend his ways.

In truth, Linley was already extraordinary among his peers—his only flaw was having mastered too few abilities. Give him a weapon or teach him the Blink spell, and with his physical gifts, even elves ten years his senior would find him formidable.

“What is he going to train?” The leopard followed Linley back to the garden, overhearing his conversation with the earring. Could it be that this little fellow wasn’t a natural-born monster, but had acquired his strength through training?

Impossible! He was still so young—how could he possibly have trained his body to such monstrous levels?

In the garden, Linley took out a cultivation rune.

“No good. I can’t manage these runes,” Linley said. “Teacher, please teach me a warrior’s sword technique instead!”

“No!” came the reply.

“Why not?”

“You’re a cultivator—how could you stoop to pedestrian swordplay?” The earring’s voice was thick with disdain. Only after reading cultivation novels had it realized just how mighty swordplay could be.

A warrior’s sword technique was not even fit to trim a cultivator’s toenails—it was nothing but wild hacking. As the future master of the cultivation arts, Linley could not sully himself with such swordsmanship; it would be a disgrace to all cultivators!

“Wait a few years. When I’ve mastered the Myriad Swords Return to One, I’ll teach you that!”

“I don’t mind learning a warrior’s sword technique.”

“But I do!”

The earring was adamant.

“Yes, yes, so do we!”

“Your Highness, you mustn’t become a mere warrior!”

From one side of the garden came the voices of the royal magicians. Having heard Linley was about to train, their curiosity drew them all over.

The leopard glanced back. One after another, the lights of teleportation arrays flashed as, before long, thirty royal magicians had gathered.

“Last time His Highness performed the Frost River Mirror Fist, I missed it. I can’t let that happen again!”

“How could a cultivator of such magnificence stoop to warrior’s swordplay!”

“Warrior sword techniques are but the toys of brutes!”

“Your Highness, you are the vanguard of knowledge from the multiverse—remember your status! Why practice warrior swordplay?”

The magicians clamored, even more concerned about the cultivator’s image than Linley himself—for the mere thought of him charging into battle with a sword like a common warrior made their skin crawl. That was no cultivator; a true cultivator wielded the sword with elegance and grace.

“Something’s not right—this isn’t right at all!” The leopard pricked up its ears. What was going on? The power that little fellow possessed was called cultivation? Knowledge of the multiverse? What did it all mean?

It was confused, but it sensed one thing clearly—the magicians held this cultivation in the highest esteem. If they were so eager to witness the boy train, this must be a rare power indeed.

The boy’s strength came from cultivation. If only the leopard could unravel this secret, it might discover his weakness and finally have its revenge!

“Get a little closer for a better look.”

The leopard drew nearer to Linley with mounting excitement, just as the air around Linley began to chill.

“Teacher, I really can’t manage these runes. Let me show you a fist technique instead—”

“Frost River Mirror Fist!”

Suddenly, the leopard’s vision turned to blinding white. Whirling frost swept past, swallowing its consciousness whole.