“Read. Why?”
Masiweiluo’s voice rose slightly.
She sat on the edge of the bed, with Olivia on her lap, her back against Masiweiluo’s chest.
Her right arm circled Olivia’s waist, while her left hand continued combing through Olivia’s hair, fingers slowly smoothing from root to tip, giving a gentle tug at the ends.
It wasn’t because Olivia wanted to sit like this—it was because there was nowhere else to sit.
Enrique’s house had only two chairs.
One was occupied by Enrique himself;
The other was in the kitchen downstairs, missing a leg.
The bed could be sat on, but the blanket hadn’t been folded yet, and sitting on it would sink into a lump of fabric, a fuzzy feeling like sitting in a pile of cats.
So when Masiweiluo pulled her onto her lap, she didn’t resist.
After all, she had been sitting in the booth earlier anyway.
Enrique sat on the wooden chair, a newspaper spread open in his hands, but he wasn’t reading.
The words on the paper glinted from the sunlight streaming in through the window.
“You really want to learn that move.”
“I…”
Masiweiluo’s fingers paused in Olivia’s hair.
She did want to learn that move.
The so-called “Unilluminated Radiance”—it was their family’s ultimate technique.
That wisp of light, brilliant as daylight, slicing through all darkness like hope in the midst of despair.
She wanted to learn that move, or rather, she wanted to learn how to use light magic to that extent.
But she was a true veteran who had been on the battlefield.
Although the Silver Lance Knights had broken free from the Merchant Guild’s control, the Decayed Knights were just the first hurdle.
In the finals, their opponent was Chijiao—from the Eternal Night Plains, someone who had even defeated Kathy Bates before.
Only after winning the Grand Tournament would the Silver Lance Knights have the confidence to face the Merchant Guild and the Night Guard again.
And the Winter Night Church.
Winning the championship was the first step, but with their current strength, they could only take that first step.
Enrique didn’t wait for her to finish.
He lifted the newspaper from his knees, sighed, as if completely helpless against Masiweiluo’s stubborn nature.
“I tell you, you don’t listen; you listen, you don’t understand; you understand, you don’t act; you act, you do it wrong; you do it wrong, you don’t correct it; you correct it, you’re not convinced.”
His speech wasn’t fast, but the intervals between each word were perfectly even, like reciting an old document he had memorized hundreds of times.
Masiweiluo’s voice pitched up a little.
“What do you want me to do?”
Olivia, in her arms, looked left and right, her silver-white high pigtails brushing across Masiweiluo’s wrist.
Enrique set the newspaper aside.
He stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to the two on the bed.
A thin gauze curtain hung over the window, and the sunlight outlined his figure in a golden edge.
“You won’t learn that move well.”
“Why?”
“You have to endure massive mana depletion. But can you handle that feeling of powerlessness?”
Masiweiluo said nothing, just stared at Enrique’s back.
She had seen the slash that parted the gray mist.
After that slash, his sword had no light, no runes on the blade, not even a name.
But after swinging that slash, he could still steadily lift her off the ground, still carry the lantern and walk that far in the rain.
How many times had this man endured mana depletion?
Why was he so familiar with that sense of powerlessness?
Masiweiluo’s fingers tightened slightly around Olivia’s waist.
Olivia felt the arm around her waist grow tighter, but she didn’t resist.
“I’m not sure.”
Masiweiluo’s voice dropped.
Enrique didn’t turn around.
“There is no ‘not sure.'”
“But my comrades…”
“You…”
Enrique turned around.
His dark brown eyes fixed on Masiweiluo.
The hand hanging at his side, with large knuckles and a white old scar on his ring finger, slowly clenched and then relaxed.
“Do you still remember the original reason you became a knight?”
The room fell silent.
Olivia heard Masiweiluo’s breathing, very soft, coming down from above her head, causing her hair strands to sway slightly.
The herbal tea in the coarse clay cup had completely cooled, no more steam rising from the rim.
Olivia tilted her head to look at Enrique.
Enrique stood by the window with the light behind him, his expression unreadable.
The photos and newspapers on the wall glowed with a warm yellow luster in the sunlight.
In the oldest photo, Masiweiluo was still a rookie, her knight helmet tucked under her arm, half her face blurred by her brown hair blowing in the wind.
Silver Lance Knights Vice Captain Succession.
Six consecutive championships.
Seventy-two undefeated matches.
These newspapers, from the day she debuted to now, had all been plastered on the wall without exception.
This was a man who had watched Masiweiluo grow up.
Of course he understood what she was thinking, what she had been through, and how hard she had worked on the path of a knight.
“But what I do know…”
Enrique’s voice was softer than before, as if pinching something invisible and then letting it go.
“A knight should stand beside those in distress, those with empty hands. That’s the only thing I’m certain of.”
Enrique didn’t answer immediately.
He raised his hand from his side and placed it on the windowsill.
Sunlight fell on the back of his hand, clearly illuminating the old scar on his ring finger.
“So…”
Masiweiluo’s voice was very soft.
“You don’t need that move. Just leverage your strengths.”
“That’s true. And if you always choose the weaker side, then failure is the norm. Rather than enjoying victory, I’d rather believe that the chivalric spirit should include the tolerance of defeat.”
Enrique picked up the newspaper from the windowsill and sat back down in the chair.
He shook it open and flipped to the page he hadn’t finished reading.
But Olivia saw that his gaze wasn’t on the newspaper.
The words on the paper were reversed;
Sunlight shone through from the back, turning the ink into blurry gray shadows.
He probably wasn’t reading a single word.
Olivia, sitting on Masiweiluo’s lap, lowered her silver-white eyelashes.
A knight should stand beside those in distress, those with empty hands.
Enrique’s words completely overturned Olivia’s stereotypical impression of knights.
In a place like Wofugang, where the status of knights was completely reversed, having someone so pure was truly rare.
“In short, you give it your all and defeat your opponent—that’s the best proof.”
Indeed.
Compared to fighting with all your might against a powerful enemy and ending tragically, it was far more satisfying to perfect the most basic, fundamental skills and then crush your opponent in one go.
“Um, Sis, can you put me down?”
“Oh, sure.”
Having sat on Masiweiluo for so long, Olivia’s back still felt warm.
Olivia paced nine steps across the floor.
“Sorry, little girl, for making you listen to so much family business today.”
“But it’s fine if you heard it. These words… might be useful to you too.”