This strike was both fast and vicious, executed as if rehearsed countless times.
Napoleon's body moved instinctively.
He saw the dark shadow behind him—a mass of darkness lunging toward him—sliced cleanly by his blade.
The sword rebounded with the sensation of striking something tough and solid. The impact's tremendous force swept the attacking shadow aside.
*Thud!*
The shadow crashed to the ground and rolled several times with a pained roar. In the torchlight, he saw it was a massive starving tiger! Its flank split open by a deep gash from his strike, orange fur matted with blood.
But the wounded predator was far from finished.
The tiger rose with a thunderous snarl, its amber eyes blazing with fury and hunger. Despite the bleeding wound, the great cat's muscles rippled as it prepared for another assault.
Napoleon's heart pounded as he faced the enraged beast.
After all, until recently he had been a frail rich young master.
The tiger circled him slowly, limping but still deadly, its massive paws making no sound on the rocky ground.
Napoleon gasped for breath, eyes red with adrenaline, raising his sword toward the circling tiger with a Howling Wind Strike!
The blade descended from above at a slight angle, his wrist vibrating violently according to the breathing technique's rhythm—three consecutive tremors.
*Whoosh!*
The wind seemed to carry the roar of a fierce tiger, answering the beast before him.
The great cat hesitated momentarily, perhaps recognizing something primal in the technique's savage essence.
In that instant of hesitation, Napoleon's sword flashed forward, striking the tiger across its powerful shoulder, opening another deep wound.
The tiger roared in pain and fury, lashing out with massive claws that barely missed Napoleon's chest.
Napoleon gathered his strength for another strike—this time the Gale Force Slash.
His forearm vibrated four times, channeling four different types of force that combined with his full body strength, converging on the blade.
The Gale Force Slash emphasized speed, and even a creature as powerful as a starving tiger could not fully evade such swift precision.
The blade struck true, carving a decisive wound across the beast's neck, though not deep enough to sever it entirely.
*Thud.*
The great tiger staggered, its lifeblood streaming from multiple wounds.
Napoleon panted heavily.
This continuous series of intense movements had beaded his face with cold sweat.
*Grrrowwwl...*
The wounded tiger swayed on its feet, amber eyes still blazing with defiance despite its grievous injuries.
It backed slowly against the rocks, breathing heavily, its massive form trembling with both pain and lingering rage.
"Still too weak physically..." Napoleon thought anxiously.
But his expression remained steady. He knew that when facing wild beasts, one must never retreat or show fear.
"Hmm!?"
He glared with wide eyes, staring fiercely at the wounded tiger.
The great beast studied him intently for a long moment, perhaps measuring whether it had enough strength left for one final assault. But its wounds were too severe—with a low, rumbling growl of frustration, it turned and limped away into the darkness.
Only after the tiger had completely disappeared into the night did Napoleon exhale with relief.
His stamina was actually nearly exhausted, his arms aching and weak, his grip on the sword trembling slightly.
If that starving tiger had truly made one final desperate attack, though he was confident he could survive, he would certainly have been badly injured.
After confirming the tiger had completely departed, Napoleon pulled up his torch and hurried back toward Oxenfurt.
This expedition had taught him his own limits.
According to stories Captain Garrett had shared about his glorious exploits from his youth—when his swordsmanship had reached mastery, he once single-handedly slain a massive cave bear at the cost of only minor injuries to his forearms.
That was already an extraordinary feat.
Here in this world, tigers were different from those Napoleon knew.
They were larger in build—each one much bigger and more muscular than Earth's tigers.
Nearly the size of small horses, with power to match.
These tigers also differed from Earth tigers in their savage hunger during lean seasons, making them far more aggressive toward humans.
Napoleon jogged all the way back to the city gate.
When he saw the torchlight on the city walls, his heart eased somewhat.
He wrapped his clothing to hide the bloodstains, concealed his sword, produced his travel papers, and strode confidently toward the gate.
............
"Cousin Napoleon, listen to me! This item is no ordinary thing. I had it specially brought back from Purple Flower City.
They say in the central kingdoms, this was called the premier wonder stone. Countless wealthy merchants and nobles competed to purchase it. After an accident caused it to fall into a river, it was washed by the currents into Purple Flower River, where it was fished up by Purple Flower City fishermen.
The twisting tale behind it is too complex to tell in full. If not for..."
"Do I look like a fool to you?" Napoleon lightly waved his folding fan, smiling faintly at the fat man before him.
This portly fellow was named Marcus Goldwin, and in Oxenfurt he was the second son of Noble Auction House's owner.
He was also Napoleon's maternal cousin.
Napoleon and Marcus had grown up together as family, sharing similar tastes and standing by each other through everything, their family bond unshakeable.
But Marcus had one major flaw.
Greed.
As he put it: "Even family members must keep clear accounts, or relationships will be hurt sooner or later."
The two sat in the Rose Chamber of the Golden Carp Tavern, Marcus with a curvaceous girl in a pink dress at his side.
The fellow was currently staring at Napoleon with a pained expression.
"Cousin Napoleon, you're being unfair. I finally obtained such a rare treasure and offered you an insider's discount for the auction, but you don't treasure the opportunity—you're even mocking me!"
The fat man pointed at Napoleon with a heartbroken expression.
"Enough, enough. Put that act away. Do you have news about the combat manuals I'm looking for?"
Napoleon continued questioning.
He had sought out his cousin specifically to gather more combat manuals.
One Kaer Morhen technique was not enough. Far from enough.
He now understood the survival odds for experts like Captain Garrett in the wilderness.
No wonder he'd never heard of anyone traveling long distances alone. In these wild lands with fierce beasts everywhere, setting out alone was simply suicide.
Captain Garrett the Tiger was famous throughout Oxenfurt, yet even he struggled against a single adult tiger—fighting such a beast would push even Oxenfurt's top warrior to his absolute limits.
"Combat manuals are hard to authenticate, and many contain hidden traps. Even genuine ones—if you make the slightest error in practice—can cause lifelong disabilities.
Cousin Napoleon, what do you want these for? Without a master to guide you, buying manuals is largely useless."
Marcus stroked his white jade thumb ring curiously.
"You understand the situation well," Napoleon laughed. "I naturally have my purposes. Don't worry about the details—just find me a few to examine."
Marcus tilted his head.
"We do have some. Recently, new clients consigned two combat manuals.
We had masters authenticate them—they should be genuine. But without teachers, no one dares practice them."
"What's the asking price?"
Napoleon asked directly.
"Oh my, Cousin Napoleon! We're family—why so formal?"
Marcus simpered.
"Could you stop being disgusting?" Napoleon was speechless. "Name your price. Quickly—I'm pressed for time."
"I can only sell you one. The other has already been reserved by another distinguished client."
Marcus smiled.
"One is fine. Did you bring it?"
Napoleon raised an eyebrow.
"You know me so well, Cousin Napoleon. Knowing you were urgent, I brought it directly."
Marcus produced a thin gray cloth booklet from his clothing.
"This manual has no specific techniques—just a special strength methodology. Fixed price: one hundred silver crowns!"
"Let me see it first."
Napoleon extended his hand.
One hundred silver crowns equaled one hundred thousand in purchasing power—this fat man certainly dared to ask high prices.
The fat man chuckled twice and placed the booklet in his hands.
Taking the manual, Napoleon carefully examined it.
The book appeared torn from a larger volume—containing only guidance on strength techniques.
According to its contents, the cultivated strength was called "Crushing Force."
Supposedly, upon mastery, one could accumulate the body's full strength from the moment of attacking, then explosively release it to dramatically increase striking speed and power.
Napoleon noted that the methodology seemed compatible with Kaer Morhen's breathing techniques—they could likely be used together.
But this wasn't what he wanted.
He sought battle energy techniques—manuals that could enhance his constitution, vital energy, and spirit.
From his condition after using the modifier, he judged that reducing the side effects required improving his physical constitution.
"Do you have any legendary battle energy manuals?"
"Battle energy manuals?"
Marcus stroked his chin.
"Cousin Napoleon, you've stumped me there. If such things truly existed on the market—authenticity aside—they'd be snatched up instantly."
"You mentioned authenticity being questionable. Your family's inventory should have some such archived copies, shouldn't it?"
Napoleon understood the business—auction houses dealing with items like manuals would copy them first as archival records.
The Goldwin family's auction house, operating for many years, had surely accumulated considerable archives.
"Those archives... Cousin Napoleon, even I can't always distinguish if any are authentic.
Maybe one genuine manual among a hundred copies, if we're lucky. So far no one has successfully cultivated internal energy from them. Are you certain you want them?"
Marcus hesitated.
"Cousin, I advise against playing with those archives. If something goes wrong and damages your body, there's no remedy."
"Do you have a way to find them?"
Napoleon's eyebrows rose. He knew the fat man's expressions—whenever he showed this look, he had a solution but hesitated whether to mention it.
"There is a way... Cousin Napoleon, the type of manual you want—there actually is one in this auction..."
Marcus's face showed difficulty.
"Why didn't you say so earlier?" Napoleon's eyebrows lifted.
"It's not that I wouldn't tell you, but this item is being auctioned at the Underground Market..."
Marcus said helplessly.
"The Underground Market?"
Napoleon immediately understood.
The Underground Market was an anonymous auction where all customers concealed their faces and identities. The items sold were mostly unclean, often blood-stained.
Those who frequented the Underground Market were typically desperate outlaws and violent criminals.
"Can you arrange for me to attend?"
Napoleon had made up his mind to participate.
Ordinary criminals wouldn't dare provoke the Bonaparte estate.
The Bonaparte family alone employed thirty to forty strong guards, with several experts like Captain Garrett among their household protection.
Lord Marcus Bonaparte maintained extensive connections with government offices and could call upon military assistance when needed.
Such a prominent household truly had nothing to fear from common thugs.