27: Chapter 27 Viscount Gladstone and Bloodthorn Knight Ulysses!

In the drill ground of White Cliff Castle, the morning chill had not yet dissipated, and the breath of the crowd condensed into a thin mist in the low air.

Fifty previously selected subjects were lined up in five rows, maintaining a neat military posture.

They wore uniformly distributed thick cotton clothes and leather vests, and held newly sharpened spears in their hands, their faces a mix of nervousness and excitement.

Rowan stood before them.

On a wooden rack beside him were ten narrow-necked crystal bottles filled with a clear, translucent dark amber liquid.

"basic rock potion." Rowan's voice was not loud, but it reached everyone's ears clearly.

"It can stimulate your physical potential, strengthen your foundation, nurture your essence, and significantly shorten the time needed to temper your physique and condense Combat Qi seeds."

"But the process is by no means easy. The pain of the medicinal power washing through your bones and muscles can even make those with weak wills faint."

His gaze slowly swept across these faces, some young and some not so young, seeing both desire and fear.

"White Cliff Territory needs protectors. Your families, your farmlands—you must take up arms to defend them yourselves."

He paused for a moment and pointed to the ten potions.

"These ten are the first batch. They are for the ones who train the hardest, progress the fastest, and have the most determined will."

"There will be a second batch and a third batch later."

"I don't just want obedient soldiers; I want rocks that can stand firm and hold their ground."

"Now, those whose names are called, step forward."

Rowan took down a potion and began calling names.

"Nolan, you're first. Go to that stone house over there, drink it, and circulate your qi and blood according to the Wild Bull Breathing Method I taught you."

Nolan took it with both hands, took a deep breath, and strode toward the independent stone house at the edge of the drill ground.

Next, several others who had performed well in their daily training were called by Rowan, and the potions were distributed one by one.

He personally supervised the first batch of users as they entered the stone house to prevent any accidents.

Cultivating a knight is not the work of a single day, but the basic rock potion can lay a solid foundation.

This requires continuous investment, and for the security of the territory, this investment must be made.

Once the breathing of the militiamen who had taken the potion had stabilized, Rowan left the drill ground and went to the animal pens behind the castle.

It was far more spacious and sturdy than an ordinary stable, with the ground covered in dry moss and hay.

Three fluffy white figures were chasing and playing with each other, letting out little roars.

The three Frost Sea Giant Bear cubs were a full size larger than when they first arrived, looking like three rolling snowballs as they ran.

Rowan's three children—Mia, Aidan, and Finn—were pouring a mushy food mixed with honey, minced meat, and bone meal into specially made stone troughs.

The three little ones were extremely serious with the bear cubs, muttering things like, "Dabai, don't steal from Erbai!" and "Xiaobai, eat slowly!"

Seeing Rowan, the children cheered and ran over.

Rowan patted each of their heads and then checked the condition of the giant bear cubs.

They were very healthy, even a bit too active, and they appeared affectionate toward their three little masters.

Frost Sea Giant Bears grow slowly, but once they reach adulthood, they possess the strength of a Senior Knight level.

However, the resources required are enormous.

But now, Rowan could afford to raise them.

Meanwhile.

To the west of White Cliff Territory, deep within the Black Pine Forest, in a secluded, sheltered valley.

A campfire flickered, illuminating dozens of faces that were either numb or fierce.

The air was thick with the smell of alcohol and blood.

This was a temporary camp.

Inside the largest tent in the center.

Blood Thorn Knight Ulysses was leisurely wiping his signature dark red longsword with a blood-stained velvet cloth.

He was about forty years old, with gaunt cheeks and a scar running diagonally from his brow bone to the corner of his mouth, making his smile look particularly sinister.

His gaze was as sharp as a vulture's, yet it carried an undisguised cruelty.

The tent flap was lifted, and a middle-aged man in a dark butler's uniform walked in, bowing slightly.

"Lord Quinn, the Viscount sends his regards once more and asks... when can that matter be dealt with?"

The butler's voice was very low.

Ulysses didn't even look up. "Viscount Gladstone is that impatient for that pretty boy Baron's life? Is the output from the Mist Forest still not enough to satisfy his greed?"

The butler's expression remained unchanged. "The Viscount simply believes that hidden dangers should be rooted out early."

"The White Cliff family did, after all, once own that land. That Baron Rowan is also said to have promoted to an Official Knight; given time, he may cause trouble."

"Furthermore..." He looked up at Ulysses, "The Viscount is willing to provide three times more pure materials for the altar of Scarlet Radiance than last time."

Ulysses's movement of wiping the blade paused slightly.

'Pure materials' referred to the fresh hearts of strong humans, which were necessary consumables for them to perform certain rituals to increase their power.

"Heh, the Viscount is indeed generous." Ulysses finally looked up, his blood-red pupils staring at the butler.

"Tell the Viscount I accept the gift. Rowan Flynn's head will be delivered to his table soon."

"The Viscount awaits the good news." The butler bowed again and retreated from the tent.

Silence returned to the tent, save for the crackling of the campfire.

Ulysses thrust the longsword into the ground, his eyes dark and cold.

He was naturally aware of the grudge between Viscount Gladstone and the White Cliff Territory.

The Viscount had seized the Mist Forest that Rowan should have inherited, forming a single prosperous territory.

Over the past few years, funded by the Viscount, he had occasionally scouted near the White Cliff Territory, but he had never dared to go too deep before.

The reason was none other than that mysterious female mage.

That woman gave him an unfathomable feeling; he had once felt a mana fluctuation from a distance, and she was by no means an ordinary mage.

With her there, the risk of raiding White Cliff Castle was too great.

He later heard that the female mage had left, and just as he was preparing to act, news came that the Rowan boy had actually promoted to an Official Knight and had killed an Official Knight from a wandering knight order.

Coincidentally, at that time, more important tasks came from the higher-ups, so he didn't cause unnecessary complications and temporarily set it aside.

Now that the task was successfully completed, Gladstone was impatiently pressing him again.

Ulysses felt a bit irritable; these noble lords were always so impatient.

But for the sake of the sacrifices, a trip would be worth it.

"Rowan Flynn... a pretty boy noble, a waste who relies on women for protection."

A cruel curve formed at the corner of Ulysses's mouth. "Killing him is fine; it'll put that old fox Gladstone's mind at ease. Besides... White Cliff Territory might also have some decent materials."

He didn't take Rowan seriously at all.

How much combat experience could a young noble have, one who relied on his family's legacy and a woman's protection and only promoted by luck?

The number of victims who had died at the hands of [Blood Thorn] Ulysses—all Official Knights—is more than I can count on one hand, and many of them were quite famous.

"Someone, come!" Ulysses barked toward the outside of the tent.

A knight with a scarlet tattoo on his face entered in response.

"Gather the men, thirty riders, elites. Get your gear ready. Tonight, we go to White Cliff Castle... for a feast."