"Indeed, that's quite true," Napoleon touched his tiger mask, his heart growing even more alert. "Does Lady Morgana have a way to help?"
"Battle energy manuals... Morgana does have connections to find some for you, young master. But I wonder what you could offer in exchange?"
Morgana spoke with soft, delicate tones.
What arrogant words.
"Find some"? Even the magistrate of the city wouldn't dare speak so boldly.
Napoleon's wariness deepened.
"What would Lady Morgana want in exchange? Silver, gold perhaps?"
"At the same price as today's Shadow Force manual, how does that sound?" Morgana smiled sweetly.
"If Lady Morgana can truly obtain such manuals, agreed."
Napoleon replied seriously, while studying the woman intently.
Morgana paid no heed to his scrutiny and simply smiled.
"Young master, you needn't worry. Morgana simply sees that you're a man of exceptional talent and bearing, and wishes to curry favor with you in advance."
Napoleon would be a fool to believe her.
The carriage moved forward slowly, soon entering the city and quickly stopping at the White Orchard Inn.
Morgana and her bodyguard stepped down from the carriage, welcomed warmly by the inn's servants as they walked inside.
Napoleon sat in his carriage, quietly watching the two figures disappear into the inn, his expression unchanged, his thoughts unreadable.
"Let's go. Time to return home."
He gave the order.
Only then did the driver snap out of his daze, vigorously wiping drool from the corner of his mouth before coming to his senses and starting the journey home.
Even the three guards showed hints of disappointment when Morgana departed.
....
After returning to the manor, early the next morning, Marcus Goldwin came personally to pay his respects.
Clearly he had come to apologize for yesterday's incident.
The two had reserved a private box at the Royal Opera House, where they could speak privately while enjoying wine and the evening's musical performance.
The atmosphere was elegant and discrete, perfect for discussing sensitive family matters.
"I absolutely must raise this toast!"
Marcus lifted his crystal goblet earnestly.
"Yesterday was my failure in arrangements. When I heard the news, my liver nearly jumped from my body with fright! If something had happened to you, even if I gave my life, I, Marcus Goldwin, could never face the Bonaparte family."
Napoleon shook his head.
"It's not your fault—I was the one who insisted you arrange it."
He protested.
Marcus drained his goblet in one gulp, then set it down heavily on the mahogany table.
The crystal struck the table with a light chime.
"Cousin Napoleon, I won't say much else, but I thought it strange before—how you suddenly grew so bold as to risk attending the Underground Market to buy things.
Turns out you've been hiding your true capabilities all along! But this kind of direct combat with others—you should avoid it in the future. Even if they're from House Whitmore, the Bonaparte family holds sway in Oxenfurt. Can the Whitmores really extend their reach here? If something had happened to you..."
Napoleon chuckled softly.
"Actually, I've enjoyed practicing martial arts since childhood, but never achieved much before, so I never mentioned it. Now that I've made some progress, I couldn't resist, and the Underground Market was just practice."
"Practice? You killed a man and call it practice!" Marcus was speechless. "You need to inform Lord Marcus about this. If the Whitmores seek retribution, he should be prepared."
"I understand that," Napoleon nodded. "Speaking of which, do you know more details about that Morgana?"
"Morgana... I'm really not sure about her. Should I investigate for you?"
Marcus hesitated, his expression growing serious. "There are... disturbing rumors about her. Some of our contacts suggest she might be a sorceress—one of those witches from the old bloodlines. Her effect on men isn't natural, Napoleon. I'd advise you to keep your distance."
"That would explain much."
Napoleon poured himself a goblet of wine and took a light sip.
The wine was an excellent vintage, smooth and warming.
"Has Morgana made contact with you?" Marcus asked, leaning forward with obvious concern.
Napoleon was about to answer.
Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed from outside the opera box.
A stern-faced guard in dark leather armor quickly approached their private box.
The guard had alert eyes and carried himself with military precision, clearly one of Marcus's most trusted retainers.
He wore the Goldwin family colors and bore their insignia on his chest.
His expression was grim as he approached their table.
"Master Marcus! Forgive the interruption, but there's an urgent family matter requiring your immediate attention!"
As soon as he spotted Marcus, the guard bowed respectfully but his urgency was unmistakable.
"What is it now?" Marcus asked with obvious concern.
"Master Marcus, you must come at once. There's been... developments concerning your sister's situation. The family elders are meeting now and require your presence."
Marcus's expression darkened. Napoleon could only catch fragments of the guard's urgent whispers, but it seemed to involve some kind of family crisis or scandal involving Marcus's sister.
"Forgive me, cousin Napoleon, but this cannot wait..."
Marcus grimaced and quickly apologized to Napoleon.
"This family crisis cannot wait. I must attend to this matter immediately."
As the second son managing part of the family business, Marcus bore significant responsibility for handling family crises and protecting their reputation.
The guard continued whispering urgent details about the situation, his voice too low for Napoleon to make out clearly.
Napoleon caught only fragments - something about compromising situations, potential scandal, and the need for immediate family intervention.
Marcus nodded grimly as he absorbed the information.
"I understand," Marcus finally said to his guard. "We'll leave immediately."
Marcus turned apologetically to Napoleon. "Forgive me, cousin. This family matter requires my urgent attention."
Soon after, Napoleon watched as Marcus departed with his guard, their faces grave with concern over whatever crisis had befallen his sister.
Napoleon remained alone in the opera box, contemplating what he had overheard while the evening's performance continued below.
After the opera concluded, Napoleon returned to Bonaparte Manor. The evening had left him with much to consider—Marcus's warnings about Morgana, the mysterious family crisis, and his own need to grow stronger.
Back in his private chambers, Napoleon dismissed Petite and secured his door. It was time to focus on his cultivation.
"Shadow Force technique... it can enhance physical attributes, but the manual is incomplete... it's not particularly suitable for my cultivation. Unfortunately... I have no choice right now."
He closed his eyes and began following the circulation routes recorded in the Shadow Force manual, using his mind to imagine a thread of energy rising from his feet, then gathering in his lower abdomen and spreading throughout his body.
This was the first-level entry method of the Shadow Force technique.
It was simple, but also the part that most tested one's aptitude. According to the manual, entry-level practice required anywhere from several days to a month before one might sense energy.
This wasn't a particularly long timeframe.
He first needed to master the basic level of the technique before it would appear in his modification system, allowing him to enhance it.
So this step was unavoidable for Napoleon.
"Young master."
Petite emerged from the house, calling out carefully.
"What is it?"
Petite looked at Napoleon, sensing that her young master seemed somewhat distracted lately, though she couldn't understand why.
"Is there something troubling you, young master?" Petite had always been understanding, asking cautiously.
"Don't guess randomly—it's my own issue."
Napoleon sat on the bench, closing his eyes and gently swaying his body.
The deep blue modification interface floated before his vision.
Looking from top to bottom, the first slot read: Kaer Morhen Blade Techniques—Fourth Level.
The Shadow Force technique was still nowhere to be seen.
Mentally dismissing the interface, Napoleon stood up from the stone bench.
Since he had obtained the Shadow Force manual, he would persist in practicing it. As long as there was even the slightest possibility of mastering the basics, his arduous journey wouldn't be in vain.
Over the following days, Napoleon went nowhere, staying obediently at Bonaparte Manor to train diligently.
His Kaer Morhen blade work had been exposed, so he no longer bothered hiding it—it wasn't such an extraordinary skill anyway.
Napoleon began consulting Captain Garrett about technical details and practical combat experience, deliberately revealing that he had self-taught some of the blade techniques.
Though he had mastered the swordwork, its practical application—when to draw the blade, what techniques to use against different opponents—these were matters of experience requiring detailed guidance.
Using this opportunity, he also spread the story of his secret martial training throughout Bonaparte Manor.
...
Three days later...
Clang, clang clang clang!
Napoleon and Captain Garrett stood in the training yard, each holding a blade, moving swiftly as they sparred with one another.
Two flashing blade-lights rolled and clashed repeatedly, like two spinning silver orbs.
Captain Garrett suddenly flashed aside, stepping out of the blade-work in a sideways dodge.
His expression was solemn, his beard and hair flowing, as his eyes suddenly widened.
"Howling Wind Strike!"
Whoosh!
A sound like howling wind accompanied the attack as Garrett's longsword struck toward Napoleon's wrist like a falling star.
"Howling Wind Strike!"
Almost simultaneously, Napoleon also called out, executing the same technique.
After sparring for some time, Napoleon pretended to just react, 'barely' adjusting his form to perform the Howling Wind Strike.
His timing was more than a beat slower.
Clang!
Both blades crashed together violently.
The two men separated instantly, each breathing heavily as they watched each other.
Napoleon looked down to see the right sleeve of his shirt was missing a section, immediately showing an expression of admiration.
"Captain Garrett truly lives up to his reputation!"
He sheathed his blade and stood straight, laughing.
"Already very impressive... very impressive indeed... To execute the Howling Wind Strike in such a short time. Even though you may have secretly practiced martial arts before, young master, how long have you actually had access to these blade techniques?
...Given time, young master will surely surpass this old man, and even in all of Oxenfurt, you could secure a place among the top five."
Captain Garrett sighed with emotion.
"How foolish of me to think you had given up blade training..."
Napoleon smiled.
"Captain Garrett flatters me. You are one of Oxenfurt's four greatest fighters—hardly someone I could surpass at will."
"Undeserved, undeserved. At my age, I'm long past my prime."
Captain Garrett waved his hands dismissively.
"However, given young master's exceptional talent in mastering the first technique of Kaer Morhen blade work so quickly, you might consider learning several more fighting styles."
"Several more fighting styles? What do you mean, Captain?"
Napoleon raised an eyebrow.
Captain Garrett smiled.
"I, old Garrett, have some small reputation in Oxenfurt, and your Bonaparte family is quite renowned for wealth. Combining these advantages, we should be able to convince several old bastards I know to share their treasured techniques with you.
These old veterans are former mercenaries like myself - rough around the edges but skilled fighters. Their so-called secret techniques are all decent enough, mostly no inferior to our Kaer Morhen methods.
If young master is interested, I could arrange some introductions to these old bastards."
Napoleon's eyes lit up at these words.
He had been unable to find any truly excellent and complete martial arts manuals. Since he couldn't find superior ones, perhaps he could compensate quality with quantity.
After all, with the Gold Finger Enhancement System, his speed of learning martial arts was incredibly terrifying—he could master any technique in just a few attempts, reaching great accomplishment.
By mastering multiple techniques this way, he should be able to achieve his goals.
In this world where demons and supernatural creatures might appear, if he didn't seize every opportunity to rapidly grow stronger, what would he use to defend himself when real crisis struck?
At this thought, Napoleon's eyes brightened further.
He understood Captain Garrett's meaning.
Within Oxenfurt, there were quite a few veteran martial artists, like former Police Chief Magnus Blackwood, whose Heartbreaker Combat Art technique was exceptionally fierce. Now advanced in age, childless and without heir, he had no successor.
His remaining wealth was meager, and he lived in poverty, barely making ends meet, often requiring relief from old friends like Captain Garrett.
If they could use financial resources and connections to build relationships, they could likely obtain the Heartbreaker Combat Art inheritance from him quite easily.
You must know that in his youth, Magnus was renowned as Oxenfurt's greatest fighter.
Only in his old age had others finally caught up to him. He was much older than Captain Garrett—eighty-six this year—and no longer steady on his feet.
By the time Captain Garrett and others had made their reputations, Magnus had already been retired for many years.
Such former masters were not uncommon in Oxenfurt.
Napoleon's mind began working. If he could learn from all these people, then accumulating their knowledge—even if they were third-rate martial arts, practiced to extremely high standards—would surely prove formidable.
"What do you say, young master? If you're interested, I could certainly contact a few suitable old friends for you."
Captain Garrett was likely doing this to help care for his old friends, perhaps unable to bear seeing them spend their final years in such hardship despite their lifelong skills.
Napoleon thought carefully.
"Captain Garrett speaks wisely. I'm just wondering which masters you could contact?"
"Don't worry about which masters. Too much diversity makes things hard to digest. Heartbreaker Combat Art and the Wind-Chasing Blade Manual—these are what I can guarantee for you.
These two old friends of mine had their children killed by enemies years ago. Now they have no one to depend on and live in hardship. They've long wanted to find disciples to pass on their knowledge.
It's just that while literature may be cheap, martial arts are expensive. Without proper nourishment, even dedicated practice can shorten one's life. They don't want to pass on their skills and harm young people."
Captain Garrett sighed.
"It so happens that I've seen your exceptional talent and outstanding aptitude, young master. Although we cannot obtain the superior martial arts of the prestigious military academies, if you master these two techniques well, they would still be remarkable skills.
This would both meet your requirements and help care for some good friends. A perfect solution."
Napoleon saw that he had laid out his plans completely and became serious.
"Since Captain Garrett vouches for them, then these two seniors shall both be my teachers. The estate will send them twenty silver crowns monthly as compensation."
Captain Garrett couldn't help but smile upon hearing this.
"Young master truly has a kind heart..."
Actually, typical martial arts academy masters who taught real skills and techniques required expenses of less than ten silver crowns to be sufficient.
But Napoleon was directly giving twenty crowns per person—this was showing respect for Captain Garrett's reputation.
When word got out, Captain Garrett would have honor among his circle and before his many old friends.
"Young master, then continue practicing. I'll go spread the news to a few friends."
Now that the matter was settled, Captain Garrett was somewhat eager to leave. He needed to hurry and find Magnus with the good news.
Magnus had recently caught a chill again. Though once a man of iron, because he didn't understand self-care in his youth and had accumulated too many hidden injuries, his qi and blood were now depleted, and he had no money for proper nourishment.
The medicine for his recent treatment had been paid for by Captain Garrett himself.
If not for this situation, he wouldn't have thought to recommend teachers to Napoleon.
It was truly... he truly couldn't bear to see his good friend end up in such miserable circumstances.
"Captain Garrett, please proceed as you wish."
Napoleon held his blade and cupped his hands in salute.
After watching Captain Garrett depart, Napoleon stood alone in the training yard.
He raised his long blade and practiced another set of Kaer Morhen Blade Techniques with sharp, swift movements.
Howling Wind Strike, Storm's Fury, and Tiger's Roar—these three techniques broken down became three sets of combination blade work, each containing over ten moves.
Though the three major techniques were separate independent moves, each actually contained numerous individual blade techniques.
For example, the Howling Wind Strike was divided into techniques for frontal attacks, rear attacks, left and right attacks, as well as counters for surprise projectiles, long-handled weapons, heavy weapons...
And many other variations.
It wasn't just a single technique to practice.
As he was practicing his blade work, suddenly a servant ran to the edge of the training yard, standing aside waiting for him to finish, apparently having something to say.
Napoleon frowned.
He quickly sheathed his blade and stood at attention, looking toward the servant.
"What is it?"
"Young master, a carriage has arrived outside. A lady calling herself Miss Morgana says she had an appointment with you and has come to visit."
The servant replied respectfully.
"Morgana... Morgana Duskwood is here..."
Napoleon's heart tightened with alarm.
He had been practicing the Shadow Force technique since obtaining it, but had yet to achieve entry level even now.
This made him somewhat doubt whether the internal cultivation method was genuine. This Morgana had previously claimed she could obtain internal cultivation manuals—he wondered if that was true or false.
"Very well, I should meet with her first."
Although she was a formidable character, he wasn't like those naive young nobles in the city. If she wanted to seduce him and cause trouble, her previous level of tricks, no matter how skilled, wouldn't succeed.
"Please show her to the guest hall. I'll be there shortly."
"Yes, sir."
The servant departed.
Napoleon had a maid bring a basin of water and wiped the sweat from his body, then changed into white robes before heading toward the guest hall.
He passed through the training yard, walked through a small garden, then crossed a corridor to reach the guest hall where visitors were received.
The guest hall door stood open. Inside, seated on the right side, was a woman in purple robes. She had an enchanting face, skin like snow, and wore crescent-shaped earrings carved from pearls. Her bearing was dignified and elegant.
It was indeed Morgana Duskwood, whom he had met before.
Also in the guest hall was Napoleon's third younger brother, Lucien Bonaparte, who was enthusiastically making conversation with Morgana.
Lucien's eyes were completely captivated, staring at Morgana's chest area where her white bodice revealed hints of deep cleavage. His gaze seemed almost ready to sink into her, unable to look away.
Ahem.
Napoleon cleared his throat lightly twice.
Both immediately noticed and turned to look.
"Elder brother..."
Lucien's face reddened, standing up somewhat embarrassedly.
"Since elder brother is here... this Miss Morgana came specifically to find you..."
His words came out somewhat stammering.
"Third brother, why don't you go ask the kitchen to send over some cocoa? I'll handle things here."
Napoleon had considerable authority in the household. Having encountered many situations before and always showing responsibility, he commanded respect among his siblings.
He was unlike those frivolous young nobles of his generation.
He had two younger siblings—second sister Isabelle Bonaparte, who was away studying martial arts and hadn't returned, and third brother Lucien, who remained home studying classical texts in hopes of passing the entrance examinations for the Capital University.
As for Napoleon himself, he had previously managed part of the family business, and his demonstrated abilities had long convinced Lord Marcus that he would be the one to inherit the commercial empire.
Since Napoleon would inevitably control the family's financial power in the future, his two younger siblings and the entire extended household would all depend on him for their livelihood.
Normally, everyone showed him a mixture of respect and flattery.
"Brother Napoleon, I happen to have a pot of hot cocoa here that I was just bringing. Perfectly brewed and delicious."
Outside the guest hall, Stepmother Margaret walked in with a smile, carrying a pot of hot cocoa.
Margaret was Napoleon's beloved stepmother who had raised him from childhood after his birth mother's death.
Margaret and her daughter Elena would depend entirely on Napoleon after Lord Marcus passed away.
Therefore, she and Elena often showed considerable care and respect toward Napoleon.
After all, once Lord Marcus was gone, Napoleon would be the head of the family. Maintaining good relations with him was natural for family harmony.
"Stepmother, you're too kind." Napoleon quickly took the cocoa and set it down. "I can handle things here. Please return to your quarters."
"Yes, yes, Napoleon, you tend to your guest first." Margaret quickly departed with a warm smile.
Before leaving, she cast a curious glance at Morgana. Though she was an attractive woman in her early thirties and well-maintained, compared to Morgana she fell considerably short.
"I'll take my leave as well."
Lucien also quickly took the opportunity to depart.
Soon only Napoleon and Morgana remained in the guest hall.
"Does the young master still desire martial manuals?"
Seeing no one else around, Morgana smiled gracefully and spoke softly.
"Miss Morgana is truly formidable. Even though I concealed my identity and appearance, you still managed to track me down."
Napoleon's expression remained unchanged as he spoke.
"Young master jests. In all of Oxenfurt, among those who have close relations with Master Marcus Goldwin and possess vast family wealth, matching height and build to identify you is not difficult."
Morgana smiled gently.
"That may not be difficult for Miss Morgana. Well, let's skip the pleasantries. I wonder what manuals Miss Morgana has brought for me this time? Let me say in advance—I only want internal cultivation methods."
Napoleon spoke at an unhurried pace, his tone appearing composed and steady. He didn't lose his calm simply because his identity had been exposed.
"Naturally, they are all internal cultivation methods."
Morgana extended her slender hand, withdrawing three small booklets from her sleeve and gently placing them separately on the tea table.
The three light green booklets were all neatly bound with thread, their covers clearly marked with large characters:
'Carmilla's Source Manual', 'Ravencrest Combat Codex', 'Ashworth Balance Teachings'.
Napoleon glanced over them, his expression still unmoved.
"Miss Morgana certainly shows great generosity. But how should the authenticity of these manuals be verified..."
"That's simple."
Morgana laughed lightly.
"These three internal cultivation methods are all extremely easy to begin learning. One day of practice will generate qi sensation. All three are types that are easy to start but difficult to master. Authenticity is very easy to identify."
She changed her tone and continued:
"As for whether there are errors or deliberate alterations, that depends on whether you trust little Morgana or not. Otherwise, even if genuine manuals were placed before you, they would likely be met with suspicion."
"Miss Morgana speaks correctly." Napoleon felt joy in his heart.
If it was truly as she said, and all three manuals were extremely easy to begin, then compared to the Shadow Force technique, these three methods would be far more suitable for him.