I need to end this soon before I run out of stamina.
Anthony was starting to accumulate fatigue after the repeated clashes with Jiang. The latter was fast and crafty. He had to stay alert at all times to block Jiang's attacks. One mistake and the fight would be over.
Without the help of mana, I can't hold on to this weapon for very long.
The sniper rifle in his hands weighed close to twenty kilograms. Normally, mana would flow through the metal, lightening its burden, reinforcing the frame, cushioning the recoil. Now there was nothing, just flesh, bone, and willpower bearing the full cost of every swing and every shot.
Anthony tightened his grip as sweat slid down his temple and dripped from his jaw. His arms burned.
Damn it…
Across from him, Jiang Ning moved again.
Too smoothly.
The young lord slid past a sweeping strike, boots scraping stone, coat fluttering, and brought his gunblade up in a short, efficient arc. Anthony twisted his rifle sideways to block, steel ringing loud as a bell. The impact rattled his bones.
Jiang fired, but not at Anthony.
The shot cracked against the side of the rifle, sparks skittering off the metal. Anthony grunted and shoved forward, forcing space, then fired back to amplify the recoil of his next swing.
Boom!
The rifle came down like a falling beam. Jiang crossed his gunblade and took it head-on, skidding back a step, then another, but his stance held.
He's still adapting… Anthony realized, breathing hard. Even now.
Every exchange sharpened Jiang's movements. His footwork tightened. His timing shortened. His eyes, those damned golden eyes, were calm, observant, almost curious.
How is he not tired after moving around like that?
Anthony pressed his lips into a thin line and attacked again.
He shortened his pauses, chaining movements together.
Swing, fire, pivot, strike.
The rifle became an extension of his body, its recoil whipping it through arcs of brutal force. Each shot thundered through the courtyard, each clash sending tremors through his arms.
Jiang weaved through it all.
He didn't retreat blindly. He gave ground only when necessary, redirecting force, slipping inside angles, answering power with precision. His gunblade flashed, sometimes blocking, sometimes striking, sometimes firing.
And that was when Anthony noticed it.
The shots.
They weren't random.
Again and again, Jiang's bullets struck the same area of the rifle. Near the midsection. Just behind the reinforced joint where barrel met frame.
Anthony frowned, deflecting another round with the flat of the weapon.
Is he trying to throw off my balance?
No. The angles were wrong for that. Too deliberate. Too consistent.
Another clash. Another shot. Another sharp vibration ran through the rifle, faint but unmistakable.
Anthony's heart skipped.
He fired again, swung again, and felt it.
A subtle change.
The recoil didn't flow as cleanly. The vibration lingered a fraction longer than it should have.
His eyes flicked down mid-motion.
There it was.
A hairline fracture.
Thin as a thread. Almost invisible beneath soot and scratches. But it was there, running along a stress point that should never fail.
Impossible… his mind screamed. This weapon's reinforced.
Then the truth crashed down on him.
No mana.
Repeated recoil.
Accumulated strain.
Structural fatigue.
A flicker of panic rose in his chest.
Anthony snarled and crushed it.
So be it.
If the weapon wouldn't last, then neither would the fight.
He drew in a deep breath, planting his foot hard against the stone.
Several veterans in the crowd stiffened.
"…He's not serious," someone muttered.
"No way… he wouldn't use that here—"
Anthony moved.
He launched himself upward, legs coiling and releasing in a powerful leap. As he rose, he fired.
Bang!
The recoil twisted his body, accelerating the spin. He fired again.
Bang!
And again.
Each shot stacked momentum, each burst of force adding weight to his ascention. The rifle screamed under the strain as he poured everything into the motion .
One strike, Anthony thought grimly. End it.
Below him, Jiang Ning didn't move.
No panic.
No retreat.
His eyes narrowed, sharp and focused.
So that's the technique, Jiang thought calmly.
In his past life, he'd faced the man who inherited this style. He remembered it vividly, the overwhelming descent, the crushing force, the way mana turned weapon and body into an unbreakable whole.
But now…
You don't have mana protecting it.
Jiang raised his gunblade.
He didn't dodge.
He didn't brace.
He fired.
The shot screamed through the air and struck the fracture dead-on.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
The rifle split further, the weakened section failing catastrophically under the compounded stress. Anthony's eyes widened as the weapon betrayed him mid-descent.
The momentum shattered.
His balance broke.
Jiang surged forward in the same instant, closing the gap with terrifying speed. The butt of the gunblade slammed into Anthony's torso with a solid, breath-stealing impact.
Anthony was thrown from the ring, skidding hard across the stone.
Silence fell over the courtyard.
Then—
The crowd exploded.
Cheers, shouts, disbelief crashing together in a deafening wave.
Anthony lay still for a heartbeat… then laughed.
A deep, genuine laugh that echoed as he pushed himself up, wincing slightly.
"Well," he said, breathless and grinning, "that was beautifully done."
He glanced at the ruined rifle and shook his head. "Don't worry. That wasn't my real weapon. Just a replica I use for competitions like this."
He looked back at Jiang, eyes bright with admiration. "Still… damaging it like that without mana? Impressive doesn't begin to cover it."
Jiang inclined his head. "I still must apologize for the damage."
Anthony waved it off. "Nonsense. Weapons exist to be tested."
He studied Jiang for a moment, then chuckled. "I thought you'd follow your father's sword path. Didn't expect this level of devotion to gun arts."
"I want to walk my own road," Jiang replied evenly. "But I must admit I am yet to find a gun that truly fits me."
Anthony's smile widened. "Then come visit my estate tomorrow. I've collected quite a few over the years. It would be my honor to let you try them. If none suit you… we'll have one made."
Around them, Ren Ning watched quietly. Nobles whispered. And somewhere in the stands, Qin Ning's expression darkened.
A cyan screen shimmered into existence before Jiang's eyes.
Mission Complete!
You received 150 Battle Points, 30 EXP, and an F-Rank Talent Card ×1!
[Do you want to use the F-Rank Talent Card?]
[Yes] [No]
Jiang selected [Yes] out of habit.
[You awakened the F-Rank Sixth Sense Talent.]
Jiang Ning [Knight]
EXP: 61 / 500
Potential: B
Talents:
Horseback Riding (C)
Marksmanship (SSS)
Close Combat (D)
Archery (F)
Hunting (E)
Tracking (F)
Sixth Sense (F)
Strength: 38
Stamina: 28
Agility: 35
Vitality: 27
Endurance: 42
Mana: 13
Battle Points: 610
Stat Points: 0
He dismissed the screen as the cheers washed over him.
I'll deal with this later.
For now, a quiet satisfaction settled in his chest.
The quiet satisfaction didn't last long.
Jiang had barely taken a few steps away from the ring before the tide came for him.
At first it was polite, bows, congratulations, raised cups, but within moments the space around him thickened with silk sleeves, jeweled fingers, and carefully measured smiles. Noble lords and ladies closed in from all sides, voices overlapping, laughter too quick, interest too sharp.
"Lord Jiang, that was a magnificent display."
"At such a young age, to defeat Sir Anthony no less—House Ning's future is truly secure."
"My daughter has always admired talented young men. Perhaps you would honor her with a conversation?"
"That reminds me, Lord Jiang, our families share old trade routes. Strengthening those ties-"
He answered smoothly, courteously, never curt, never rude. He bowed when required, smiled when appropriate, and deflected without offense. Years of navigating command tents and war councils had taught him how to listen without committing, how to speak without yielding ground.
Still, the pressure mounted.
One proposal blended into the next.
Finally, a matronly noblewoman laughed and said, half-teasing, half-serious, "At this rate, Lord Jiang, we'll need to start lining up names. Surely you've given thought to taking a wife?"
The chatter stilled, just a little.
Jiang smiled, warm, composed, and inclined his head. "I appreciate everyone's kindness."
He paused just long enough for the silence to lean in.
"But I already have someone in mind."
The effect was immediate.
A ripple of reactions spread through the circle, surprised laughter, raised brows, quick recalculations. A few ladies smiled knowingly. Others exchanged glances that said we were too late rather than we were mistaken.
"Oh?"
"How romantic."
"Well… that explains a great deal."
Jiang neither confirmed nor denied anything further. He merely excused himself with practiced grace, leaving behind curiosity instead of offense. That was safer. Curiosity could be managed.
As he moved toward the quieter edge of the pavilion, the noise softened, replaced by low conversations and the clink of cups.
That was when he heard it.
"I haven't given up on searching for Dragon Tail Ferns, sir," a firm, younger voice said nearby. "Just wait a bit more. I only need a few more stalks to have enough for your advancement."
There was frustration there, but also resolve.
Jiang slowed.
The man sighed. "Easy to say. Harder to find. The entire region's been stripped clean. Even the apothecaries have nothing left to sell."
Dragon Tail Ferns…
The timing was almost too perfect.
Jiang cleared his throat lightly. "Ahem."
Both men turned at once.
"Lord Jiang."
"My lord!"
The young man straightened, surprise flashing across his face, while the older noble beside him hastily bowed.
Talk about timing.
"I'm sorry," Jiang said politely, "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation."
His gaze shifted briefly to the older man, then back to the older man. "Regarding the matter you were discussing…"
He let the pause stretch just enough to draw them in.
"I might be able to help you with it."