"Still manageable. Fortunately, I've been focusing on yin nourishment during this time. This second level is the highest realm of the Ravencrest Battle Energy Method. Ordinary people would need five years, but I compressed five years into such a short time, so naturally the burden is much heavier than when I first started."
He carefully sensed his body's condition.
Although weakened, it was much better than before.
It seemed his recuperation during this period had indeed been effective.
Whoosh...
He exhaled a long breath.
Napoleon felt the internal energy circling in his chest and abdomen had changed from a single chopstick-thick flow to a full nine streams.
Nine streams combined together were considerably thicker than before.
With the Ravencrest Battle Energy Method reaching the second level, the sensation was obviously different from before.
With each breath Napoleon took, he felt energetic and his reactions were much faster than usual.
"According to the second level records of the Ravencrest Battle Energy Method, it should provide longevity and rapid blood clotting effects."
"Tomorrow I'll test the internal energy effects. I should contact Morgana to see if I can get new battle energy methods from her."
Since the Ravencrest Battle Energy Method was real, the other methods might also be authentic. He wanted to see what would happen when several methods were cultivated together.
Logically, as long as they weren't conflicting types, internal energy methods could be merged.
Thinking of this, Napoleon lay back down to rest.
But just as he lay down, he heard faint footsteps from outside the courtyard, as if someone was moving away.
The rhythm sounded very much like Isabelle's walking pattern.
Napoleon shook his head and didn't bother with it. During this period, Isabelle went out wandering almost every other night.
He didn't know what clues she had found.
At first he had carefully followed her, but discovered his movement techniques were far inferior to Isabelle's—he lost her after just a few moves and stopped wasting effort.
Early the next morning, Napoleon took prepared bank notes and headed straight for the Golden Fortune Inn where Morgana was staying.
"What? Checked out?"
Napoleon stared at the innkeeper with furrowed brows.
"When did this happen?"
"About half a month ago, Miss Morgana received invitations from several young gentlemen to visit the Monastery of the Sacred Rose outside the city. Afterward, she sent word back saying she was checking out."
The innkeeper also paid close attention to Morgana.
After all, she was naturally beautiful, plus many young gentlemen came courting her, and she herself spent lavishly, naturally leaving a deep impression on him.
"Monastery of the Sacred Rose..."
Napoleon frowned.
His instinct told him Morgana probably wasn't at the Monastery of the Sacred Rose.
The sudden checkout was just an excuse.
"Never mind then."
He walked out of the inn with his folding fan, two guards waiting outside the door.
"Young Master, how did it go? Did you find Miss Morgana?" Guard Xiaosong usually had a close relationship with Napoleon. He was also the one who cleaned up during Napoleon's martial practice and occasionally sparred with him. His martial skills were decent.
"No, she's gone." Napoleon shook his head.
"Where do we go now?"
"Where? Back to the estate."
Napoleon couldn't find the manuals and was somewhat displeased.
The three boarded a carriage and rushed back to the Bonaparte estate. When they arrived at the residence, they saw a yellow carriage already parked at the main gate.
The side of the carriage was prominently carved with a large "W".
"House Whitmore?"
Napoleon's expression shifted. The Whitmore family had been killed for so long, they had finally come knocking.
He wasn't afraid either. He dismissed Xiaosong and the others and walked through the main gate alone.
Looking from the entrance toward the interior, he could just see Lord Marcus in the main hall, accompanied by a martial instructor, entertaining the Whitmore visitor.
Only one person had come from House Whitmore.
Thick eyebrows and narrow eyes—a man around thirty years old.
"...How could my son do such a thing? House Whitmore must be mistaken!" Lord Marcus sat in the main seat with a calm expression.
"Many people witnessed it firsthand! How could this be false?!"
The man was so angry his chest burned.
"I don't care how powerful your House Whitmore is in Beauclair—this is Oxenfurt, not your Beauclair!
Your House Whitmore may be formidable, but the Bonaparte family is no pushover either! If you continue framing my son, don't blame me, Marcus Bonaparte, for being ungracious!"
Lord Marcus coldly shouted.
The man trembled with rage all over.
He pointed at Lord Marcus, unable to speak another word.
"Good, good, good!! Lord Bonaparte, what impressive bearing. I will definitely relay your exact words to Lord Sebastian! Farewell!!"
He turned and strode toward the main gate.
Napoleon encountered him halfway. The man didn't recognize Napoleon and continued storming out angrily.
Napoleon wasn't surprised. In the current state of the realm's weakness and territorial divisions, let alone this being the far north where city lords and local powers were regional tyrants.
Even in the central regions, great families like the Bonapartes mostly paid lip service while acting independently, causing quite a few incidents.
This House Whitmore still thought they were in Beauclair, actually coming to demand accountability.
The man brushed past Napoleon, angrily boarded his carriage and departed.
Napoleon entered the main hall and saw his father Lord Marcus sitting in his chair, looking dazed.
"Father, finished with business?"
He said quietly, signaling the surrounding guards to withdraw so he could speak privately with his father.
Lord Marcus sighed. Seeing it was Napoleon, his face naturally showed more warmth.
"Napoleon, you need to look after your sister more, don't let her keep wandering around the city."
"I can't control her." Napoleon shook his head with a bitter smile. "Father, the things they want us to find—have we found them? Are we looking for objects or people?"
"Could be objects, could be people. It's unclear!"
Lord Marcus shook his head, lowering his voice.
"Now the mayor has a headache over the Thornton family case and the Riverside Village well-jumping case. Especially the well case—so many constables can't find clues, what can your sister accomplish alone? Later, tell her to stay home honestly."
"She went to investigate the Riverside Village case?" Napoleon was startled.
"You didn't know? The constables at Riverside Village have seen that girl Isabelle. She brings wanted criminals or suspects to the constabulary every few days. Everyone there knows her now."
Lord Marcus said helplessly.
"I see..." Napoleon frowned slightly. "I've been busy collecting combat techniques lately and haven't had time to manage her."
"Collecting combat techniques... your expenses have already approached five thousand silver crowns. What are the results?" Lord Marcus asked casually.
"I've already collected several methods. I'll organize all the manuals I've obtained and set up a scripture pavilion at home to make it convenient for the Bonaparte family to train battle masters in the future."
Napoleon said earnestly.
"I can roughly guess your thoughts. In these chaotic times, relying on just the few dozen people in our household isn't enough. We need to train more battle masters and guards belonging to the Bonaparte family. That's why I've spared no effort supporting you after hearing about your combat technique collection."
Lord Marcus said seriously.
"The household has eighty-six guards and servants available for deployment, but since they must guard the residence, only about forty can actually be deployed externally."
Napoleon calculated.
"These forty people must handle security for our thirteen external estates and sixteen shops. It's nowhere near enough."
"I naturally know this, but... reliable personnel are hard to find..." Lord Marcus sighed.
"What about adopting orphans? There must be many street children both inside and outside the city, right?" Napoleon suggested.
"This... we must ultimately consider what the other families think..."
Lord Marcus hesitated.
"We already don't have enough people—why do we still need to worry about the other families? Can't we develop secretly?" Napoleon argued.
"This matter is sensitive—pull one string and move the whole body. If the other families discover it, they'll definitely accuse the Bonaparte family of having ambitions and being too conspicuous."
Lord Marcus shook his head slightly.
Napoleon tried persuading him a couple more times but still failed.
He realized Lord Marcus no longer had the drive of his youth. Back then, having nothing and no concerns, he acted decisively and responsibly, creating the Bonaparte family's vast enterprise.
But now... looking ahead and behind, hesitating and indecisive.
Napoleon could see that Lord Marcus supporting his combat technique collection showed he had expansion desires.
But when actually starting to act, he became hesitant and couldn't make decisions.
After speaking a few sentences, he stopped persuading and only mentioned matters about family members' health and well-being.
Then he took his leave.
Lord Marcus stood alone in the main hall, brows tightly furrowed, still hesitating.
But Napoleon no longer wanted to rely on this father.
In such chaotic times, without sufficient personal strength, they would sooner or later become a piece of fat meat in others' eyes.
He left the main hall and continued to the training ground for martial practice.
After the Ravencrest Battle Energy Method reached the second level peak, he was energetic all day long. Even working from dawn to dusk, he didn't feel too tired.
When slightly drowsy, he would sit and rest briefly, then become lively again, able to be active for several hours.
On the training ground, he practiced blade work continuously until evening.
Only then, covered in sweat, did he bathe and go eat dinner.
At the dinner table, Lord Marcus, Stepmother Margaret, and Napoleon sat at one table, while other family members sat at another large table.
This was the rule.
Lord Marcus was the family head, Napoleon the future family head, and Stepmother Margaret—both Lord Marcus and Napoleon had extremely close relationships with her. She also managed the backyard's women and maids.
These three were the three highest-ranking people in the entire Bonaparte family.
After them came Isabelle, other sisters, Lucien, and other family members.
Though the Bonaparte family belonged to first-generation nouveau riche, they still learned the rules of great households in many ways.
Like "no speaking while eating or sleeping"—this was one such rule.
Two large tables of people eating, only the occasional sound of knives and forks clashing against plates on the long wooden tables, otherwise truly no other noise.
"Napoleon."
Lord Marcus, who rarely spoke at the dinner table, suddenly opened his mouth.
Once he spoke, everyone gradually stopped and listened to him speak. This was also etiquette. After all, unless it was particularly important, he generally wouldn't speak at the dinner table.
"Father, what is it?"
Napoleon put down his knife and fork and looked toward Lord Marcus.
"You said you couldn't collect more martial arts in Oxenfurt—would you like to make a trip to Kaer Trolde?"
Lord Marcus said seriously.
"Kaer Trolde?"
Napoleon was startled. He hadn't expected his father to actually want him to leave Oxenfurt.
"Yes." Lord Marcus nodded. "I have an old friend there. In his recent letter he mentioned that Kaer Trolde has established a prestigious military academy where renowned battle masters from the central regions teach openly.
He also wrote about remarkable developments—the central regions are researching and laying tracks for steam-powered trains and railways. Such innovations could revolutionize commerce and travel. If you're willing, you could make a trip there to attend their academy—you might learn one or two truly formidable combat techniques from the central regions, and witness these technological marvels firsthand."
Napoleon's eyes lit up with interest. Steam-powered transportation was something he understood from his previous life—such technology could indeed transform their world. The combination of advanced combat training and witnessing early industrial development made this opportunity even more appealing.