Chapter 13 Knight

Scorched Flame July, during the sweltering hours of a summer night, a crescent moon hung high, yet the firmament above boasted few stars.

The once resplendent Milky Way was now missing much of its luster, as if the vast Star Sea was shrouded by a layer of pitch-black mist.

But the searing wind, arriving swiftly from the desolation of Fiery Flame Land's desert, set ablaze the star-scarce, gloomy night.

Lacking the sparkle of stars, the moon's radiance shone brighter than ever, almost as if it were another sun.

Beneath the moonlight, encircled by a golden mist, stood a tall man with long, ash-white hair, appearing to be in his forties or fifties—perhaps even older.

His cheeks were gaunt, his eye sockets deep, and his aged face wore signs of weariness, appearing as though weather-beaten to the bone from roaming too long.

Yet even so, when he stood, he was as unyielding as an iron tower.

Ian saw that the man simply reached out a hand and placed it on the still flailing Native Hunter's head. A twist, and the hunter, who was still screeching in agony, immediately fell silent.

The man who had easily snuffed out a life turned his head to survey Ossenna's corpse, then turned again to look at the white-haired boy.

He was observing.

At the same time, Ian was observing the man's attire.

Hanging from the man's waist was a sword half a meter long, unsharpened, with a blade longer than a meter. Rather than calling it a sword, it looked more like a ruler; the hilt showed signs of deliberately rubbed-off markings, likely inscriptions of a noble family.

He was draped in a dark blue cloak, tightly wrapped from head to toe, obviously specialized for night travel—not that of any wandering knight or forest hunter.

The two observers looked at each other.

"Cough cough..."

—Is this the true nature of the golden mist?

With a gentle cough, Ian concealed the joy at having witnessed the golden mist and sensing 'this is my adventure?' His heart was astonished, "I didn't expect it to be an actual person..."

"But perhaps this is better."

He steadied his nerves and gripped the fork in his hands tightly, movements the knight interpreted as surprise at suddenly encountering him.

"Ease your mind, child."

So the man stepped back with his hands behind, indicating he meant no harm.

For the first time, he was not following behind the other but stood face to face with Ian, seriously scrutinizing the boy who had brought him so much surprise.

Surprisingly incredible.

And not in any other aspect; this time the surprise was straightforward—the boy before him was exceedingly handsome.

"...Could there actually be such a beautiful child? He's almost like the legendary Fae from the lake tales."

With a slight gasp of amazement, the old knight thought Ian's features were delicate; though yet a child, one could already foresee a future of refined looks, different from those chubby-faced noble children of the Imperial Capital. However, children in the Southern Immigrant District tend to be thinner, given the scarcity of resources.

Of course, whether by skin color, demeanor, or actions, Ian did not resemble a common fisherman's or farmer's child.

Thinking carefully, Harrison felt he indeed had some recollection of the White Folks of Harrison Port—perhaps they were that group exiled decades ago...

Gathering his thoughts, the man withdrew his gaze. The simply dressed child looked at him. Apart from the initial surprise and tension, for most of the time, his eyes were calm, his reactions very methodical, and he never lowered his weapon or let down his guard.

But that wasn't all.

The old Knight could also notice that this unusual boy from the White Folks had not even his breathing disturbed.

While he scrutinized the other, the boy also stared back at him, scanning up and down, no matter the tears and old, unwashable bloodstains on his clothes or the scars on his face and hands, he observed and analyzed them carefully.

If one had to describe it, it was like those Grand Scholars who had studied Alchemy, evaluating the price of their experimental materials, with a merchant's eyes yet detached from worldly concerns.

——Very good.

The old Knight couldn't help but laugh.

——Quick and clear thinking, full of logic and planning, and moreover, based on the decisiveness and calmness in perceiving the Native Hunter's stealth and counterattacking, all qualities are top-notch.

Therefore, the man nodded and said, "You did very well, whether it was fighting back against your abuser at the start or your choice of how to deal with the bodies, your response to the attacks from the Forest Leopard and the Natives was flawless."

He praised, "You really did very well."

"He knew from the very beginning?"

Startled, Ian remembered the fleeting glimpse of golden light he had seen when he looked out the window earlier.

He couldn't help but realize, "So that's it... He started observing since then?"

But if that was the case, why hadn't he seen that golden light when he had chosen the riverbank and the official road before?

"There must be some 'danger' in those two directions that I am unaware of, enough to preoccupy this kind-hearted old man, preventing him from taking care of me — or rather, the danger wasn't fatal enough because he had already intervened to block some of the disaster for me."

Ian didn't dwell on this further. These were just trivial details. Most importantly, it was the flickering color of the old Knight.

Gold, such a level of opportunity must be seized, and the other party had shown goodwill and offered assistance to him.

Just for that, he should be thankful.

So, in the midst of this subtle silence as they locked eyes, Ian took the initiative to speak, "Thank you for your praise."

"Sir, you may call me Ian."

The boy, no older than eight or nine, nodded slightly, his young and clear voice sounding earnest, "Thank you for your help earlier. May I know your name?"

"Name?"

The old Knight raised an eyebrow, not immediately grasping that the other was actually inquiring about his name.

Is this the time to be asking for names? He shook his head slightly, amused, "This isn't the time to ask for names, don't you know?"

"Of course I know." Ian smiled similarly, "But without your help, sir, I fear I would have been hurt."

"If the Native Hunter's blade had cut my right arm, how would I explain it to the doctor? With the heat of Scorched Flame July, my wound could easily become infected and fester. Whether I could survive in such weather and with available medical care is uncertain."

"I want to thank you, therefore I need your name."

"You're not an ordinary child."

Narrowing his eyes, the old Knight stated with conviction, "Your Spirit Energy must be mind-reading, or sensing emotions, foreseeing dangers — you knew from the start that I meant no harm, which is why you dared so much. No wonder you could detect that Native Hunter with decent stealth skills."

"But, don't trust your Spirit Energy too much."

At this moment, the man showed a smile, but soon his expression turned indifferent and cold. The elderly Knight stepped forward, looking as if he was about to reach out and grab Ian's neck: "Just because I had no ill intent before, doesn't mean I don't have any now."