The next morning, Old Allen, lying on the hay bed, opened his eyes drowsily.
His hazy old eyes scanned the empty room as usual.
But when his gaze passed over the hay bed near the door, empty of occupants, his eyes suddenly cleared.
He bolted upright, ignoring the grumbling complaints of his aged wife beside him, and donned a jacket as he rushed to the wooden door.
"Where's the person? That Demon Hunter, has he run away?!"
Old Allen looked anxious, which was not impossible.
After all, putting himself in their shoes, if someone stuck him with a thankless task for a loss, he would run too if he could.
"No way! He can't leave! I have to..."
The fishery still needed development, and there were more catches relying on this. How could he run at such a time?
Still muttering to himself, Old Allen yanked open the wooden door to his home.
But as he opened the door, the elder of the village, the most experienced old man, stood there aghast, his mouth agape.
The dark clouds still loomed over Velen, fine drizzle still falling.
Lann stood in the rain, holding the Bear School Steel Sword he had obtained from defeating his master.
The gleaming half of the sword pointed forward, held to the side of his face.
The young Demon Hunter's eyes were fully focused at this moment.
Even though Old Allen had only ever seen the tax officers and their soldiers under the Duke's command, never a famed swordsman.
But at this moment, he subconsciously swallowed, a feeling of awe arising—
"...So steady."
The sword was held so steadily.
Even for someone like him who's only held a fishing spear or net, he could easily sense it.
The young man's grip on the sword was unnaturally steady!
People have an innate sense of what their bodies can achieve, subconsciously aware.
So in Lann's hometown world, even amidst a chaotic stream of information, when people saw skills they'd never even heard of.
As long as a master demonstrated their proficiency, viewers of the videos couldn't help but exclaim in admiration.
They might not know how much effort was required to achieve such a level.
But instinctively, they can feel, "I can never do this in my lifetime, the gap is too vast."
Thus, the feelings of awe and admiration arise naturally from the heart.
Old Allen felt this way now.
In Lann's hands, the straight and bright sword blade, like a windless lake surface.
If it weren't raining, it would be okay, but now in the rain, one could feel that unnaturally strong stability more.
Raindrops splattered against the sword's blade, as if falling onto the ground stones.
In the midst of Old Allen's daze, a deep breath sounded from Lann's chest.
Then the sword and body began to move in dance.
It was a peculiar form of swordsmanship, with the center of gravity alternating between the left and right foot, yet often at the same time on only one foot, completing the switch through spinning and lateral jumps.
Even a layperson could tell that it's a sword style emphasizing agility compared to traditional knightly swordsmanship.
Since the monsters a Demon Hunter faced, their strength was not much weaker than a full armor heavy cavalry charge.
No one could withstand such an attack head-on; only agility could be relied upon.
The frequent shifts in center of gravity, causing sluggish force and reduced attack power, were compensated by the spinning moves in swordsmanship.
Centrifugal force is a good friend of the Sword Master.
The "swung" sword blade could perfectly draw a circle, and at such a significant angular speed, if one utilized the tip, with the highest linear speed, they could cut a plated-armored body in half!
And Bear School's swordsmanship further advanced on their superior physique basis.
In attack, Bear School swordsmanship becomes more aggressive, utilizing the center of gravity during spins, sacrificing some maneuvering buffer for multiplied power against the enemy.
In a previous hunt for Qiqi Demon in Bordeaux, those insectoid creatures' exoskeletons seemed more like they were "smashed" by the sword blade, rather than "cut."
This advanced technique of controlling the center of gravity is precisely what Lann seeks to fully analyze and master with Mentos' assistance.
"Sir, your swordsmanship fundamentals project in our training plan are qualified, but my analysis suggests that the Bear School's advanced sword techniques seem to neglect stability."
"Are you saying my overly high completion of basic training hinders the progress of studying Bear School's signature swordsmanship?"
"No, I believe at any time, fundamentals are paramount, perhaps my analysis and training plan are still imperfect."
"Understood." Lann muttered in his heart.
He wasn't swayed by Mentos' information, as the origin of such technique analysis was only from what he'd seen, just the battles in Bordeaux.
But ultimately, for the intelligent brain, encountering "uncertainties" still counted as insufficient computing power.
The focus remained on upgrading permissions.
"Continue to analyze current data and refine the training plan." Lann slowly lowered the sword, returning it to the sheath behind.
"I still lack much knowledge now, and swordsmanship is not urgent for now. Someone is coming."
The dialogue with the intelligent brain paused for the moment.
Only after Lann stopped his spinning sword dance did Old Allen cautiously approach.
He looked as if he were the outsider in this village.
Lann could tell by looking at him what he was thinking just now.
"Don't worry, I won't leave. There's still a victim's family here, and the school's compensation won't cease."
The casual tone was the same as last night.
But Old Allen didn't feel the inexplicable chill he did when discussing this topic yesterday.
In fact, the young man had thought it through last night.
This was a world where people dying at any time wasn't strange.
His own moral values and outlook on life, as Bordeaux said, were at odds with this world.
The man resembling a grizzly bear, said "you're already in hell" to the apprentice who killed him as he was about to step into death.
And just the day before, Lann heard of a human tragedy firsthand and felt a strong sense of powerlessness and the pain that resulted.
This feeling indeed made him... sick to the point of wanting to die!
But in the end, this revealed a truth he already knew—without strength, there is no choice.
He needed "the strength to survive" ... but also "the strength to live and uphold his will."
There were already too many complainants.
The "seed of strength" was held in his bosom, the "guidance of strength" operated in his brain, and Lann was not prepared to stop here.
"Let's go, time to get to work."
The young man stretched his neck and wrist, speaking calmly.
The cotton armor outer cover hastily patched last night had replaced the tattered blue cotton armor.
The robe reaching his calf extended over his shoulders and chest, still stained with blood on large leather pieces.
Clothes make the man, Lann now ready, exuding poise, prepared to face the day's monsters and challenges.
Old Allen, seeing the Demon Hunter who was now in form, scratched his chin, tentatively suggesting.
"How about… we eat first?"