Shield of the Rose

Heavy snow fluttered down like feathers, accumulating along the main avenue, leaving a deep black groove crushed by carriage wheels in the center of the road.

The carriage driver was busy wrapping caltrop chains around the wheels to prevent slipping. The horses pulling the carriage were draped in thick wool felt blankets, with only their heads exposed. As the air was bitterly cold, white mist condensed from their nostrils with every breath.

Richie and his father worked together to haul the luggage onto the roof of the carriage.

There wasn’t much luggage—just three trunks packed with the clothes and jewelry his mother and Aunt Ling loved most.

Once the luggage was secured, Richie’s father climbed down from the roof, opened the carriage door, and sat inside.

The husband and wife embraced tightly.

“Once you’re abroad, you’ll have to take care of yourself. Be careful with everything.”

“I will. Someone is meeting us on the other side, so nothing will go wrong. You be careful as well. Don’t drink too much, wear plenty of clothes—the northern weather is cold, don’t freeze yourself.”

The couple chatted endlessly, looking out for one another.

On the other side, Aunt Ling and her daughter were equally reluctant to part. This was the first time Aunt Ling was leaving her daughter, feeling an unbearable attachment. She had been talking nonstop until now. Unlike Richie’s parents, this mother and daughter would argue as they talked; though their voices were kept very low, Richie could still hear them. Every argument always involved a man named Pinder—who was presumably the man who had head-over-heels mesmerized his cousin.

Originally, Aunt Ling intended to take her daughter along, but his cousin adamantly refused to leave, claiming the factories and shops here needed supervision—though everyone knew that was merely an excuse.

While the two were expressing their parting sentiments, a command vehicle drove up from afar. This vehicle was vastly more powerful than the horse carriages by the roadside. A snowplow was mounted on the front, pushing massive heaps of snow to the roadside as it traveled.

The door slowly slid open. Highgate didn’t even wait for it to open fully before squeezing out!

All of Richie’s family businesses had investments from the Youth Army, including the two branch factories abroad. Even without that reason, he would have come to see them off.

Seeing Highgate arrive, Richie immediately stepped forward to greet him.

“Why bother riding in this kind of horse carriage? If you had mentioned it earlier, I could have arranged a convoy for you to follow the Eastern Detachment. That would be far faster, more comfortable, and much safer.”

Highgate gestured toward the carriage with his chin.

Taking a horse carriage to Rosotto in this season would take at least a month, and that was assuming excellent road conditions. If heavy snow fell for several consecutive days and blocked the roads, who knew how long it would take.

“Women care about romantic mood,” Richie said half-truthfully. “They wanted to take their time ambling along the road themselves, as it feels more like a real journey. Besides, they won’t suffer any hardship. All the food and drink for the journey have been prepared. Our family deals in fur garments, so the coats they’re wearing are the warmest furs, and a stove is burning under their seats.”

“Wealthy people,” Highgate teased, as he usually made casual jokes with Richie. Suddenly, his eyes caught the booklet tucked under Richie’s armpit. “What? Researching something new again?”

This booklet had originally been prepared for Highgate anyway. Richie gave a gentle smile and flipped it open.

“Just some ideas. Don’t you think the current magitech armors are a bit too overpowered in sheer firepower?” Richie explained from the side.

Highgate had always attached great importance to Richie’s whimsical ideas. However, this time he only looked at it for a moment before handing the booklet back to Richie.

“Don’t waste time on this. It’s pointless—someone already tried it before you.” Highgate advised. The booklet depicted a armor even thinner and lighter than a light-class armor, clinging completely to the skin. “That’s not meant for knights, but rather a weapon specifically designed for assassination. I believe the Ministry of Internal Affairs should be equipped with such armors.”

When Highgate spoke of this, there was a clear tone of disdain: “An excellent magitech armor must never have overly extreme performance. Completely abandoning defense like this is purely suicide on the battlefield—it wouldn’t even withstand the first wave of attacks.”

“I never said this armor was meant for ordinary knights to wear, nor did I say it was for battlefield use,” Richie sighed. He was somewhat disappointed; he had originally intended to use this item to pique Highgate’s interest, but hadn’t expected him to dismiss it out of hand.

Before he escaped from Glaslovar, he had asked Emily to manufacture a piece of tight-fitting inner armor for him. This armor design had been developed based on that very inner armor.

Another reason for designing this armor was that he intended to abandon standard combat suits. Combat suits had their uses, but their utility was limited; it was far better to wear a special inner armor directly against the skin. This armor was completely tight-fitting, and could directly integrate the auditory, sensory, and communication systems inside. Because it was light and thin enough, it would not hinder movement in the slightest.

Highgate saw all of Richie’s disappointment. Thinking Richie had been demoralized, he couldn’t help but advise: “It’s natural for anyone to make mistakes; you’re already quite extraordinary. If you churn out another world-shaking design, where would top Craftsmen like Espol hide their faces?”

Highgate suddenly glanced left and right, then pulled Richie to one side: “I have something I need your help with. I plan to assemble a unit specifically for long-range raids, and you’re an expert in this area.”

Richie stared blankly at Highgate, his mind in a jumble. He had thrown out that new design specifically to draw Highgate’s attention, never expecting it to fail—and even less expecting that things would take such a dramatic turn. Highgate had a favor to ask him all along, which fell right into his plans.

“Isn’t your corps stationed in the south…?” Richie was somewhat confused by Highgate’s intentions. His reason for returning to Peines was medical recovery, so during this period, although he was effectively on leave, it differed significantly from a real vacation. First and foremost, he could not leave Peines; even traveling to nearby cities would violate military discipline.

“I don’t mean my corps. Did you forget that the Youth Army itself is a military organization? My official position is Commander of the 11th Legion under the 5th Corps of the Second War Zone, but I hold another post in the Youth Army—I am the Commander of the 3rd Legion of the Youth Army.”

Highgate explained: “I plan to gather a squad for you. Though it’s just a squad, quite a few of them hold official ranks as squad captains.”

Highgate was actually testing him as well. If Richie accepted his proposal, it would be equivalent to joining the Youth Army in disguise, with even his post already assigned.

“Will they listen to me?” Richie wasn’t entirely sure.

Highgate thought for a moment; that was indeed a problem. Although the captain of a knight squad was not necessarily the strongest individual, Richie was simply too young—not to mention this kid was still only a Novice Knight.

As he thought, a spark of inspiration flashed through Highgate’s mind. He recalled the scene when he went to the hospital to visit Richie; there were at least four people in that ward who were also members of the Youth Army. The awe and confusion on their faces when they overheard his conversation with Richie still lingered before his eyes.

If those people were grouped together, they would definitely obey.

“I will transfer a batch of people who are willing to follow orders!” Highgate had made up his mind. “Be frank with me: are you willing to help me?”

“No problem, I’ll take this job.” Richie shrugged. This was precisely what he needed.

Star Square was one of several squares in the downtown circle, far smaller than Victory Square. On the west side of the square stood a five-story building—an officer club. However, in the Republic, anyone with slightly informed sources knew that this building was the headquarters of the Youth Army.

Narrow windows, greyish-brown exterior walls, and a retro style devoid of excessive decoration indeed suited the image of military men very well.

Highgate led Richie directly to the room on the east side of the second floor. It was a medium-sized conference room where a dozen people were already seated.

In a corner of the conference room stood a magitech armor. The armor plates of this suit had been deliberately opened, and a portion of the magic-driven tendons had been removed, exposing part of the skeleton and control mechanisms.

As soon as Highgate entered the room, those dozen or so people immediately stood up.

“No need for such formality,” Highgate greeted them, raising his hand and waving twice to signal everyone to sit down.

He leaned slightly to the side, revealing Richie behind him: “Let me introduce you. This is your instructor.”

Most people only noticed Richie at this moment, their expressions either filled with doubt or utter disbelief.

However, a few people had noticed Richie long ago—these individuals were all wearing plasters or bandages.

They were the ones Highgate had just dragged out of the hospital.

“We meet again.” Richie recognized those few as well. After all, they had shared a hospital ward, and not much time had passed since then. “Let me introduce myself formally: I am Richie, belonging to Independent Unit 105.”

“Harney, Vice-Captain of Squad 47, Garrison Corps, Second War Zone.” The first person to stand up and greet Richie was the wounded soldier who had laid in the adjacent hospital bed. Out of everyone present, he was most familiar with Richie. “Has your pair of Silver Badges not been confirmed yet?”

This guy searched around Richie’s chest and shoulders with his eyes.

Harney’s words not only drew him closer to Richie, but also served as a subtle reveal of Richie’s background to the others.

Sure enough, hearing this, those who had harbored doubts instantly showed astonished expressions.

“It should be very soon,” answered Highgate, whose words carried far more weight than Richie’s own explanation.

“Andrei Puf, Captain of Squad 22, 3rd Legion, 4th Corps, Second War Zone.” Another wounded soldier stood up.

The others also stood up one after another to introduce themselves.

The last person to stand up was clearly not a knight. This man had a frail physique, messy hair, and oil stains on his white lab coat.

“Fleming Green. I am the designer of that magitech armor.”

The man pointed to the armor standing in the corner of the wall. Richie instantly felt intrigued; recently, most of his mind had been consumed by armor design, to the point where even his normal training had slacked off somewhat.

Walking over to that suit of armor, Richie inspected it thoroughly from inside out.

“It uses Valkyrie’s architecture. Why didn’t you retain the original exterior form? Valkyrie’s shell has very distinct features, mostly slanted flat planes that are very suitable for forging and processing.” Richie sighed.

“Valkyrie is a very fine design, but as a standardized armor, it is simply too complex. I simplified the design.”

That young armor designer was no nobody either; among the younger generation of armor designers in the Republic, he counted as one of the top leading figures.

Such a person naturally carried a bit of pride. Seeing Richie pointing fingers at his design, he had already become quite dissatisfied.

Young people liked to compete, and Richie was no exception. He detected the impatience in the young designer’s tone and naturally had no intention of backing down. All the armor designers he had interacted with so far were top-tier figures like Espol and Lady Shar; even those two Great Craftsmen wouldn’t put on such airs before him.

Richie indeed had confidence. First, he had actually used the Valkyrie model—the version improved by Master Jebson, no less. When he designed his new armor earlier, he had also borrowed heavily from Valkyrie’s design, so he knew its performance metrics inside out. Second was that booklet in his hands, which contained extreme detail analyzing armors, including a description of the Valkyrie.

“Simplifying a design? Simplifying a mature armor design is no easy feat—it’s far harder than designing a new armor from scratch. As far as I know, Espol also attempted to simplify Valkyrie’s design, but unfortunately failed.”

Richie gave a subtle smile, casually pointing out every single modification made to this armor, while simultaneously stating the performance losses and likely flaws brought about by these alterations.

His vision was exceedingly sharp, selecting only those areas where performance had dropped after modification, while completely ignoring the correct improvements.

“Actually, there is a better improvement scheme, though it won’t simplify the original design, but rather make it slightly more complex.” Richie casually mentioned Master Jebson’s improvement scheme, which had already proven its worth in previous actions.

“This is just paper-talk; anyone can do that! I don’t deny that as a knight, you know a thing or two about armors, but that knowledge is at best half-baked.”

The young armor designer naturally refused to yield, though he was also somewhat nervous, because the flaws Richie pointed out did indeed exist.

Highgate had been listening on the side with a mischievous smile on his lips, intending to curb the young designer’s arrogance, so he didn’t stop their debate initially.

However, at this point, he couldn’t listen any longer. Losing an argument and resorting to using professional identity to suppress others made him feel deeply disappointed. He whispered a few words to someone beside him.

The Youth Army had its own armor designers, and quite a few of them! Soon, two elderly men entered the conference room.

Both old men recognized Richie and hurriedly came up to greet him with smiles. As Youth Army armor designers, although they held Special-Grade titles, they had been relegated to auxiliary units. Their superiors were very wary of them, never granting them opportunities for academic exchanges. If Richie hadn’t acted as a bridge earlier, they would never have had the chance to meet Espol.

Seeing the two old men treat Richie with such courtesy, the young designer was instantly struck dumb with shock. One of the old men happened to be his mentor. He knew his mentor’s personality best—a man whose eyes were usually on top of his head. Having followed the old man for so many years, he had never seen his mentor treat anyone so respectfully.

His mind in total turmoil, Green heard his mentor turn to him and say: “You’re really lucky to have the chance to join this squad. You must cherish this opportunity! Listen more, learn more, and ask for guidance humbly.”

As his mentor spoke each line, Green nodded along, though he didn’t absorb a single word of what was actually said.

Let alone the young designer being dumbfounded, the others in the conference room were equally amazed, except for those who had shared the hospital ward with Richie, who understood somewhat in their hearts.

“Were you discussing this armor just now?” The other old man noticed the object in the corner. “This should be Green’s work, right?”

The old man walked over, took a look, and shook his head: “The original Valkyrie was already very mature. There was no need to make such drastic modifications. It would be fine if it were improved, but modifying it like this makes its performance far inferior to the original!”

“This is a common failing of youth. Who hasn’t been young?” His mentor defended his student instead: “Let him practice. After all, once designed, this thing will only serve as a slightly advanced training armor.”

Both old men naturally knew what stage the development of the new armor had reached. The new armor was a light armor designed for long-range blitzes, its function overlapping with the armor before them. When the time came, this suit would certainly yield to the new armor.

“Even if used as a training armor, some additions ought to be made,” Richie said from experience. “I’ve seen Master Jebson’s improvement scheme; the Master specifically designed a set of climbing and jumping gear for this armor, which is extremely useful. Later, I added a gliding system, which also proved very effective. Besides that, adding a pair of hang-glider wings is quite necessary.”

Since it was merely to be used as a training armor, Richie showed much more tolerance.

“I heard the participant list for the exchange conference has been drawn up…” The mentor looked at Richie, hesitating to speak.

“So early? Didn’t they say people wouldn’t arrive until next month?” Richie turned to look at Highgate.

“The schedule was moved forward. I only found out just now.” Highgate shrugged. “This list is quite embarrassing. The conference is held right here, yet only three people from the Republic are qualified to participate: Ralph, Salvador, and you.”

As his voice fell, only Highgate and the two old men remained calm, while everyone else stared with wide eyes.

“Is Emily not on the list?” Richie found it somewhat strange.

“Espol will definitely bring her along; you don’t need to worry.” Highgate said offhandedly. “Each participant can bring one person. Can you convince Yilo and Lady Shar to let those two help out as well?”

“Yilo won’t be a problem, but Lady Shar is uncertain.” Richie felt somewhat put in a tight spot.

“If worst comes to worst, two is better than none,” the mentor remarked beside them. He resolved to draw closer to Richie during this period.

In the Republic, there were twelve Special-Grade armor designers, four of whom served the Youth Army. Thus, the four of them would compete for those two spots, and the old man had some confidence regarding this.

“I’ll try to find a way! Masters Manuem and Falak don’t have apprentices either, and I have good relations with them. I’ll ask if they’re willing to help.” Since Richie had decided to join the Youth Army, he naturally needed to demonstrate his value.

Having received this promise, the two old men left with smiles.

The young armor designer had long lost his earlier confidence, though he still didn’t know who on earth Richie was. However, that conversation had completely awed him. Every single name spoken from Richie’s mouth was a paramount figure revered by armor designers—let alone those two Great Craftsmen, even Masters like Jebson, Manuem, and Falak were enough for them to prostrate in admiration. Though the Republic had a dozen Special-Grade armor designers, it lacked a single Master-grade figure.

“Now that we’ve gotten to know each other, to be honest, as a raid squad, the structure of this team isn’t very suitable.”

Richie intended to give everyone a wake-up call. If spoken at the beginning, these words might not have been taken to heart by those knights, but now, no one raised any objections.

“Can you guess what is most important for long-range raids?” Richie pointed to Harney, the wounded soldier from the adjacent hospital bed, who had the closest relationship with him among these knights.

Harney thought for a moment and said: “Speed.”

“Stealth,” someone below chimed in.

With a first person speaking, a second naturally followed: “Conserving energy.”

“Everyone answered well. Speed, stealth, and energy conservation are all very important in long-range raids.” Richie affirmed first, then shifted his tone: “However, none of them is the most important.”

He glanced at the door and window, confirming no one could eavesdrop, before continuing: “The most important thing is avoiding battle. The key to avoiding battle is scouting. In a raid squad, there must be at least two Recon Knights, or perhaps even more.”

Richie glanced at the sole Recon Knight present; this person’s strength was far inferior to Nora, and quite likely even inferior to himself.

“I will arrange it,” Highgate immediately took over the task. Adding another Recon Knight was an absolute breeze.

Seeing Highgate agree so readily, Richie pondered silently in his heart; it was necessary to raise the difficulty further. With a turn of his mind, he had an idea.

“Although the most important thing is avoiding battle, some battles remain unavoidable. In the absence of resupply and with insufficient defensive power, the best way to win a battle is night combat. Raids combined with night combat are the ultimate method for the weak to defeat the strong. As you heard just now, I possess two Silver Badges, both earned through night battles.”

Richie glanced at the knights present. Perhaps due to speed considerations, most of these knights picked by Highgate cultivated Wind-attribute techniques.

“I have a technique cultivated by Recon Knights. Once practiced, it will be of immense help in night combat. However, as you all know, double-cultivating a Recon Knight technique acts as a drag on the growth of your main strength.” Richie spoke no further.

“You can make your own choice regarding this matter,” Highgate said from the side. He didn’t intend to exert pressure on such matters.

Formal training had not officially begun today; it was merely a preliminary meeting with squad members. Nevertheless, Richie still transcribed the cultivation method for “Heavenly Hearing”!

By the time he finished copying the technique, it was nearly lunchtime.

Highgate led Richie to the cafeteria. This cafeteria was very large and appeared quite plain on the outside.

“The head chef here is quite extraordinary; he used to work at a grand hotel,” Highgate knew Richie’s preferences, taking the opportunity to instill the benefits of joining the Youth Army.

Richie, however, looked to the side. Sitting at a table two rows away was a fat man.

“Isn’t that the staff officer I captured back then?” Richie asked in a low voice. “I recall his name was Paro.”

“He’s very capable and has extensive connections. He helped us pull a lot of staff personnel over. He also has several classmates teaching in the staff department of the Military Academy. Taking advantage of this, we set up a special class to send some knights for advanced studies.”

Highgate explained beside him: “He himself isn’t simple either. The plans he makes are watertight, and his vision is very sharp. We established a Political and Military Situation Analysis Office, and he serves as the director of that office.”

“You guys are really expanding bigger and bigger! Your hands have even reached into the Military Academy,” Richie marvelled. “I remember the folks at the Military Academy never had any goodwill toward you.”

The Republic utilized civilian control over the military, placing the Staff Department above the High Command. The Staff Department had always been the domain of ordinary humans, never accepting knights as students. The High Command was further divided into Command and Operations departments, with the Command department held above Operations, both controlled by non-knight officers.

All along, this was considered a dual safeguard to ensure knights wouldn’t gain absolute military power. But now, the staff department of the Military Academy had been breached, which effectively undermined this dual safeguard from its root.

More importantly, the Youth Army possessed a complete military system of its own. Whenever they wished, they could replace current military management units at all levels—meaning they could bypass the High Command’s command department entirely and directly control its operations.

This was precisely why the upper echelons of the Republic harbored such deep wariness toward the Youth Army.

“Those who can become staff officers are all smart people, and staff officers least lack intelligence from all sides. They understand far better than you or me which direction the situation will develop.” Highgate gave a slight smile. He never put on airs before Richie.

This matter was actually crystal clear: after the failure of the first phase of the war, the unluckiest ones were those staff officers. Not only did their superiors throw them out as scapegoats, but during retreat, they were also the last members considered, leaving many stranded in enemy-occupied territory. Their fate could easily be imagined.

Having witnessed all of this, those staff officers naturally sought to reserve a way out for themselves.

While Richie and Highgate were talking, two elderly officers walked over! Both looked to be in their fifties or sixties. One had silver-white hair and beard with deeply creased wrinkles, bearing full marks of weather-beaten hardship. The other was skinny and emaciated, with a goat beard and a half-bald head.

Seeing these two walk over, Highgate actually stood up and offered a salute.

Richie hurriedly stood up as well. He had seen portraits of these two; in those portraits, both wore white Grand Marshal uniforms and held Marshal swords.

“Highgate, is everything going smoothly?” the silver-haired elder asked. He was naturally asking about the assembly of the raid squad.

“Everything is going smoothly,” Highgate answered without hesitation.

“Is this the instructor you recommended?” The other old man showed interest in Richie, turning to look at him: “I’ve read your resume. You are quite remarkable.”

Aside from greeting them, the two old men didn’t say much, nor did they ask if Richie was willing to join the Youth Army—they trusted Highgate’s capability.

“Highgate, why not take our young friend around for a look?” the silver-haired elder smiled and said.

Highgate naturally understood his old superior’s intent. He had originally planned to take Richie around to introduce some people. Those he intended to introduce were naturally the true core leadership of the Youth Army; the two before him had been slated for the final visit in his original plan!

“Any plans for the afternoon?” The silver-haired elder looked at Richie.

“Now we just lack a suitable training ground. If we could find a place like Polmo, that would be absolute perfection,” Richie said offhandedly. He was quite willing to know more top figures of the Youth Army, especially these two founders. Dealing with such people certainly brought no harm, but he didn’t want to get involved too deeply either; he shared no common language with them, and interacting with them was by no means as comfortable as being around Espol or Lady Shar.

“Polmo,” both old men gave bitter smiles simultaneously. Places like that were rare.

“The area around Peines consists mostly of hills; this matter might be a bit difficult,” Highgate scratched his head. No matter how great his ability, he couldn’t conjure up complex terrain out of thin air. “We can only look around everywhere.”

After lunch, Richie took a ride in Highgate’s car, touring around the suburbs of Peines. They couldn’t travel farther, as Youth Army officers all held official duties and had to stay with their units most of the time. Thus, the training location could only be in the near suburbs of Peines.

At every location, the two would climb onto the roof of the vehicle to survey the surroundings. Highgate’s vehicle possessed a hydraulic lift system that could raise a person up to over ten meters high, providing a broader view than standing on the ground.

The area where Peines sat was originally a plain; though surrounded by several rivers, there were very few mountains, at most a few soil mounds.

After touring more than half a circuit, not a single satisfying location was found.

Just as both began to feel disappointed, several black shadows suddenly swept overhead.

“Stop the car,” Richie called out, leaning toward the window to look upward.

Those black shadows appeared like giant birds, circling in the sky over a thousand meters high.

Richie had excellent eyesight and quickly discerned the situation of those black shadows.

They were several triangular hang gliders, each with a person suspended underneath.

“Interested in those things?” Highgate stuck his head out from another window to look up. “Those should be students from some college.”

“How do you know?” Richie asked.

“Aside from those college students, the only ones playing with these gadgets are wealthy inventors and adventurers. There’s a difference between them: inventors are interested in flying higher and farther! If it were them, there would only be one or two hang gliders in the sky, but with far more complex designs. College students treat hang-gliding as a sport and always gather in groups.” Highgate indeed had quite some knowledge on this subject.

“How do you know so clearly?” Richie found it odd. In his impression, Highgate wasn’t someone interested in trendy sports.

“Someone once thought of applying this technology to reconnaissance. Unfortunately, it was later discovered that this type of flight faces many limitations. Remaining airborne for long periods requires rising thermal currents, and controlling flight direction is extremely difficult. So the project was ultimately abandoned.” Highgate pulled his head back into the vehicle.

Richie gently pressed the door button; the door slowly raised up. Stepping out of the vehicle, he turned and said: “I’ll go check over there; maybe there’s suitable terrain for training.”

“Have fun, I won’t wait for you.” Highgate still needed to inspect other areas. “Need me to come back and pick you up?”

“No need.” Richie patted his waistline, where a small pouch hung behind his belt containing a pair of roller pulleys.

Parting ways with Highgate, Richie walked toward the center where the hang gliders were circling.

All around was a blanket of snow-white, without a single tree in sight. When it wasn’t snowing, this area should be wild grassland.

The suburbs of Peines were covered in such grasslands everywhere. This grass grew densely, about a foot high; when growing in vast expanses, it felt soft like a thick carpet laid across the earth. Because of the snowfall, with the snow piled up so thick, the accumulation of snow plus the grass underneath formed the best possible cushioning mat.

Richie stomped twice, feeling plenty of elasticity underfoot.

This was perhaps the reason why people in Peines dared to play with hang gliders: falling from the sky, with this thick layer of cushioning mat blocking the fall, one might not easily die.

In the distance lay a low, gentle range of hills. Richie guessed the hang gliders must have taken off from there.

Richie ran toward that direction.

The snow mat was simply too thick, making walking extremely arduous. Richie channeled his battle aura to his soles. Back then, he could walk on mud as if on flat ground, so he should be able to handle this snow as well. Upon testing, his assumption proved correct. The most interesting part was that aside from leaving a shallow footprint where he stepped, there were also rings of ripples expanding outward; the ripples between his two footprints intersected each other like ripples on water.

Bounding forward for about two kilometers, Richie finally spotted human figures. Standing on a windward slope were seven or eight people, with two hang gliders placed beside them.

Approaching closer, Richie could already see the appearance of that group clearly.

It was a group of youths—five males and three females—all around twenty years old, looking indeed like college students.

Richie walked straight over.

The slope also had snow, but the area where those people stood had been cleared, and even a ten-meter-wide, thirty-meter-long runway had been cleared along the slope.

As Richie walked up along the slope, two hang gliders happened to land just as he reached the hill crest. The person controlling one of the hang gliders, whether intentionally or accidentally, actually charged right toward him! Richie naturally wouldn’t be hit; before the glider even reached him, it stirred up a gust of strong wind. Where there was wind, there were turbulent currents and gaps in the air; Richie drifted away while clinging closely to that gust of wind.

“Sandy, you almost hit someone!” The person controlling the other hang glider shouted angrily—it was actually a woman.

“It doesn’t matter, that’s a respected knight. Didn’t you see how beautifully he dodged?” the guy who almost hit Richie said offhandedly.

Richie picked up a trace of resentment in this person’s tone.

As the two hang gliders came to a halt, the group on the slope rushed forward to help unbuckle the gliders from the two flyers.

Richie observed this interesting mechanism up close for the first time.

The hang gliders on the Valkyrie and new armors also had glider wings, but those were completely modeled after bat wings, made of steel skeletons and specialized membranes. The hang glider before him looked nothing like the wings of any flying creature, appearing much more like a kite.

“I thought knights were all stiff and rigid, with no hobbies other than fighting.” A male college student wearing a flat cap and a plaid shirt walked over. Richie didn’t intend to defend himself; he too had once believed knights were rigid fellows, until joining Unit 105 when he realized that wasn’t the case at all. Because the cultivated techniques stimulated the brain, there were many problem figures among knights like Lina, Rosa, and Robin; someone like Gali or Margaret could already count as normal.

“Two years ago, I was a normal person just like you. My original goal was to get accepted into the Grafonier Shipping Academy. After graduating, earning money would be easy, and I could travel everywhere to broaden my horizons.” Richie sighed.

Hearing him speak like this, the college students became slightly friendlier.

“How did you become a knight?” a female student asked.

“I was injected with a potion. For ordinary people, the consequence of injecting this potion is gaining great strength and endurance, but at the cost of vastly reduced lifespan. Because I possessed latent knight bloodlines, I awakened after receiving the injection.” This was something Richie learned after the fact. This news had always been suppressed by upper authorities; his knowing this proved he possessed well-informed sources.

The group of college students was instantly stunned. Several female students desperately covered their mouths, as if unable to stop themselves from screaming out loud. “How many people were injected with this potion? Didn’t you know beforehand?” another student shouted, looking filled with righteous indignation.

“Many people were injected. We weren’t stupid—though lifespan would be reduced after taking that drug, at that time, if you didn’t want to become a prisoner, that was the only choice. Do you know how the Varedins treat prisoners?” Richie knew that sometimes people might not listen to the truth, while lies were easily accepted.

Sure enough, those college students all sighed incessantly.

“Where are you from?” asked the short-haired female student who had just unbuckled her hang glider. This woman had short hair and dressed just like a boy, carrying a bit of Robin’s flavor.

Given the fair words she had spoken earlier, Richie felt quite favorable toward her: “Glaslovar. Have you heard of that place? It used to be a primary battlefield.”

To Richie, Glaslovar was his hometown, the most important place in his life, but he didn’t expect these people before him to have heard the name.

Glaslovar only ranked third or fourth even within Lavol Province, and its location was somewhat remote; Lavol Province itself ranked among the peripheral provinces of the Republic.

To Richie’s surprise, all those college students actually nodded, and someone remarked offhandedly: “It’s quite far from Glaslovar to here.”

“Is my hometown that famous?” Richie asked in surprise.

“Not particularly famous, but we’ve all heard of it. Forgot to introduce ourselves—we’re all from the Geology Department,” the short-haired female student said.

“No wonder.” Richie smiled, finally understanding why these people knew his hometown. People studying geology naturally had an understanding of various cities—it was their profession.

“I’ve been there. That time, our department organized an inspection trip down south to survey vegetation and soil conditions in the southwestern provinces. We stayed in Glaslovar for half a month. I still remember we stayed at a place called the Germano Hotel,” another student mentioned.

“You guys must be quite wealthy! The Germano Hotel is the highest-grade and most expensive hotel in our town. That hotel is most famous for its wild game barbecue—did you try it?” Richie clicked his tongue repeatedly.

“Not at all. Hotel expenses could be reimbursed by the school, but game barbecue had to be paid out of our own pockets. I’m just a poor student.” That student seemed much more relaxed, having become convinced that Richie’s earlier words were all true.

“Are there many people playing hang gliders like you?” Richie steered the conversation toward the topic he was interested in.

“Are you interested in this too?” the short-haired student asked.

Richie pulled out the pair of roller pulleys from behind his back: “Perhaps because I have latent knight blood, even before awakening, I was extremely interested in all sports related to speed. Back in my hometown, I was the Roller King.”

Hearing this, another student dismissively waved his hand: “What’s that count for? Compared to hang gliders, roller skating is just child’s play—fitting for little kids.”

The others burst out laughing as well, and the short-haired female student smiled: “Indeed, it can’t compare. You simply can’t imagine soaring in the sky, looking down at the earth from above… that feeling is absolute beyond description.”

“Can I give it a try?” Richie walked toward one of the hang gliders.

“This isn’t a toy,” the student wearing a flat cap hurriedly stopped him. “If you want to take to the sky, you first need ground training! Then short-distance gliding, and finally taking flight.”

He pointed to the short-haired female student: “If you want to play, go ask her—she’s the head of this club.”

“We don’t accept outsiders,” the short-haired female student shook her head. But seeing Richie’s disappointed gaze, her heart softened: “However, I can take you up into the sky to let you feel the sensation of gliding.”

Taking another person into the sky required more than an ordinary hang glider. The short-haired female student retrieved one of the two gliders placed aside. This glider was larger than the others, and the harness underneath had an extra set of straps.

“You’d better hold onto me tightly, but don’t touch the control bar in front,” the short-haired female student warned.

Richie naturally wouldn’t promise that; he made a vague sound of agreement, treating it as a response.

Carrying the hang glider to the top of the slope, to be honest, such a massive hang glider actually weighed very little, which interested Richie greatly. The glider wings mounted on magitech armors were all made of steel frames and were vastly heavier.

With a shout from the short-haired female student, Richie carried the glider and dashed forward at full speed. Before running twenty steps, his body was already off the ground.

Richie raised his legs, and his body instantly leveled out. Though he wasn’t wearing an auditory receiver, he could still feel the air current changes around his body. A gust of wind blew face-front—that was caused by the hang glider cutting through the air—but there was another gust blowing upward along the slope, an ascending thermal current on the windward side… The hang glider first slid down along the slope, leveled out halfway down the slope, glided two or three hundred meters, and then began to ascend. Richie simply closed his eyes; without an auditory receiver, he could only hear wind within ten meters, but that was already enough.

Every time he executed “Heavenly Hearing”, he felt himself turn into wind, merging completely with the wind around him; this time, the feeling was even clearer.

This was perhaps because he was wrapped in wind at this very moment, as strong winds supported him toward the sky, every circular turn causing the hang glider to fly higher.

The higher into the sky they went, the stronger the wind grew. Suddenly, Richie felt a strange commotion inside his body; the battle aura running along the path of “Heavenly Hearing” suddenly slipped into a side branch.

This would normally be extremely dangerous—if it were another knight, they would immediately stop the operation of battle aura. However, Richie did not. For some unknown reason, the moment his battle aura veered off course, the scene in the woods back then flashed before his eyes, when he and Sophie faced the Varedin knights together.

It was during that time, under the threat of death and the pressure of external force, that he, who originally couldn’t project battle aura externally, suddenly comprehended that killer move—“Mirror Reflection”!

That time lasted only an instant, but the sensation was extremely similar to now.

The battle aura moved very slowly, indeed taking a brand new path.

This was not the result of his deliberate guidance; Richie felt everything was as natural as breathing and heartbeats, as if battle aura was originally supposed to run this way.

As the battle aura circulation gradually became clear, the wind around his body was also affected, actually forming an air vortex. This air vortex closely hugged his body, only a thin layer deep.

Initially, this air vortex layer only enveloped his head and shoulders. Gradually, as the battle aura circulation grew more complex, the coverage area grew larger and larger.

When the battle aura circulation completed, Richie was startled at first.

This circulation path was entirely new, yet extremely similar to the technique he had initially practiced for heavy-armored defenders. The battle aura ran through the shallow layers of the skin, densely covering the entire body, except now the path taken was far more complex.

Thinking carefully, he understood somewhat. That heavy-armored defender technique was inherently unique; it didn’t focus on hard blocking, but on shedding impact force. The air vortex before him was similarly not created by forcibly altering the wind’s direction, but by changing the direction of the incoming wind, allowing the wind itself to form vortices.

Though the circulation path was roughly similar, the attributes were entirely different.

Battle aura cultivated according to the heavy-armored defender technique was thick and heavy like the earth, but the battle aura now was as light and agile as the wind.

Richie didn’t know what on earth was going on; none of the books he had read ever mentioned a similar situation.

He also didn’t know whether this battle aura circulation would be effective for others.

Back then, “Mirror Reflection” was completed in an instant under external pressure, and he had no idea what changes his battle aura had undergone, so “Mirror Reflection” became his exclusive killer move that no one else could learn.

Such situations were not uncommon; who knew how many powerful techniques had written records but no living inheritance. Precisely because of this, difficult-to-learn divine skills and ultimate techniques were not hard to come by—anyone with a bit of connections could obtain the cultivation method and even find insights left by predecessors.

However, obtaining a top-tier technique that anyone could cultivate was difficult. Top-tier techniques were either controlled by the state, reserved only for knights serving in special departments, or held by knight families, reserved strictly for direct descendants.

At this moment, what he wanted to know most was whether the air vortex wrapped around his body would help with gliding.

Taking advantage of the short-haired female student not paying attention, Richie’s hands quietly rested on the control bar.

Initially, he didn’t apply force, because he didn’t know how to control a hang glider.

He watched the female student push the control bar forward and pull it backward, making the hang glider fly high one moment and level out the next.

Without knowing how much time had passed, the female student gently pushed the control bar, raising the hang glider once more. Right at this moment, Richie’s heart suddenly stirred—he had a feeling that he could do better.

He yanked the control bar sharply—his strength was naturally not something that female student could withstand—and the hang glider violently tilted to the side.

The hang glider had been circling smoothly in the sky, but with this violent tilt, it suddenly cut into the gaps between wind currents, plummeting down from high altitude as if falling off a cliff, its speed becoming blindingly fast in an instant.

Dropping two hundred meters in altitude, Richie pulled the bar back, leveling the hang glider once again.

The hang glider’s speed was so fast that the incoming wind violently pulled the glider back upward.

Richie felt the harness tethering him jerk violently upward; his chest felt somewhat constricted from the pressure, and the wind in his ears changed from a howling roar to a sharp, piercing whistle.

“Ahhh…”

The female student screamed out loud. She wanted to curse, but at this moment she could barely breathe; being able to scream was already a miracle.

Before she could adjust, the hang glider plunged downward again. That sudden weightlessness made her scream once more, her screams becoming even more terrified and desolate this time.

After a dozen seconds, the screaming stopped abruptly—not because she was no longer afraid, but because the hang glider pulled upward again, the rapid G-force making breathing difficult for her.

“Do you want to get down first?” Richie looked at the woman beside him somewhat apologetically.

“Put me down…” The female student trembled all over, her eyes tightly shut, her lips quivering, and clattering teeth sounds could faintly be heard.

Richie smiled gently and pushed the control bar downward. He had no intention of slowly lowering altitude like others; instead, like a hawk spotting prey, he dived down at an angle.

This time, the female student made no sound. She kept her eyes closed, clutching her shoulders while shivering uncontrollably.

When they were five or six meters from the ground, Richie shoved the control bar violently, causing the hang glider to skim rapidly along the ground.

Richie raised his body and tapped his feet several times on the ground.

If it were an ordinary person, the forward impact force would certainly snap their leg bones, but knights weren’t afraid of that. The hang glider quickly came to a complete stop!

Richie then realized the female student had been shaking non-stop, her body having gone completely stiff long ago.

“I’m very sorry for scaring you.” Richie gently unbuckled the harness on her body and laid her onto the ground: “You guys come help her!”

He shouted up to the group on the hill slope.

Placing the person on the snow, Richie picked up the hang glider. He didn’t even need to climb the slope; even on flat ground, he was confident he could launch the hang glider into the sky.

As his running speed grew faster and faster, the hang glider indeed felt lighter and lighter.

Suddenly a gust of wind blew face-front; the hang glider shuddered violently and left the ground.

Without the burden of another person, Richie leaned forward; the hang glider dipped instead of rising, skimming past almost touching the ground. The snow kicked up on the ground continuously scraped against his hands holding the control bar—it was perilous to the extreme.

If it were anyone else, they would have shut their eyes tightly in fear, but Richie didn’t care. The surrounding wind seemed to tell him that he would definitely not hit the ground; those wind currents would carry him up into the high heavens.

Gliding for about five or six hundred meters, the hang glider suddenly pitched upward, climbing straight up at a thirty-degree angle. Flying to fifty or sixty meters, it tilted sharply and dived down once more; its speed became exceedingly fast. This time, the glider didn’t lose much altitude before pitching up again, reaching an even higher altitude.

Just like that, diving one moment to gain speed, and pulling up the next to exchange speed for altitude, in just a short while, the hang glider had flown up to over two thousand meters in altitude.

Clouds surrounded everything; flying above the cloud layer felt entirely different. It was like another world; emerging from the clouds, below lay the vast earth, and in the distance sat the city of Peines. Looking down from above, Peines resembled a mosaic puzzle composed of white, grey, and brown, densely covered with small dots and intersecting grids.

The small dots were squares, and the grids were streets, but when viewed from an altitude of over a thousand meters, all of it appeared somewhat minuscule.

Apart from the city, everywhere else was a blanket of snow-white. Richie really wanted to know what kind of sight it would be when looking down from high altitude in spring.

Gently pressing the control bar, he cut out from the ascending thermal current and entered another air stream.

This air stream was very strong, blowing diagonally from the right rear. If it were anyone else, they would definitely try their best to avoid such a situation. Hang gliders were not sailboats; blowing from back to front, though pushed along by the wind, would make it impossible to maintain altitude.

Richie wasn’t sure he could succeed; he just wanted to test whether his newly created “Wind-Control Art” could truly allow him to ride the wind.

Human hearts were never satisfied. Initially, he just wanted to fly and experience the feeling of soaring high in the sky. Once that wish was fulfilled, he wanted to test whether he could autonomously control the direction of flight.

Gliding and flying were two completely different concepts. The former relied entirely on wind power and could only soar where there were thermal currents; though exciting, its actual utility was limited—just like having a boat without oars!

Tightly wrapped around his body, this layer of vortex was like a coat woven from wind. Ordinary coats could block dust and rain, but this coat of wind could block wind resistance, allowing his body to feel not a single trace of drag, but rather a small thrusting force instead.

The thrusting force wasn’t large, but it was already sufficient to push the hang glider forward.

Richie gently pushed the control bar, switching several directions in succession; at this moment, he had long flown out of the range of the thermal current.

The hang glider flew up and down; sometimes flying smoothly, sometimes staggering like a drunkard, yet every time it seemed on the verge of falling from the sky, it pulled back up again.

A full half-hour passed before Richie thoroughly grasped the characteristics of the hang glider.

He could fly, as long as the wind wasn’t too strong; he could fly in any direction. Most of the time, he relied directly on “Wind-Control Art” to fly, only needing special techniques when flying head-wind, relying on continuous climbs and dives to offset the drag brought by head-wind.

This drag stemmed from the hang glider itself; the vortex of wind only wrapped around his body and could not cover the hang glider. Richie felt somewhat regretful; he should have tried a smaller single-person hang glider earlier. The smaller the wing surface of a hang glider, the smaller the lift generated, but the drag was also far smaller, offering vastly superior speed and flexibility.

He gently pressed the control bar, and the hang glider dived downward once more.

This time, Richie wanted to try even more thrilling aerobatic flying.

Back in school, he was a master of stunt skating; when it came to stunt skating, no one in all of Glaslovar was his match. The moves he excelled at could make onlookers’ hearts stop beating, and now he wanted to try aerobatic gliding.

The hang glider was seen rushing down violently, followed by a sharp side turn, executing a figure-eight turn, and then a 360-degree barrel roll…

Richie maneuvered the hang glider through one thrilling maneuver after another, and the speed of the hang glider grew faster and faster.

Another somersault! When the hang glider inverted completely, Richie felt the blood throughout his body boiling; he loved this stimulation.

Looping through three-quarters of a circle, the hang glider pointed nose-down, diving almost vertically, yet leveling out again in the blink of an eye.

Right at the moment it completely leveled out, the left wing shuddered violently, followed by a loud snap—the left wing broke off about a foot and a half from the tip.

Richie, who had been feeling excited, suddenly felt his body lose control, spiraling down toward the ground along with the hang glider.

Richie’s reaction was extremely fast; he swung his right hand violently, striking the right wing, instantly breaking that wing as well. At the same time, his body fully extended, and the layer of wind coat wrapped around his body suddenly expanded, like a net catching the surrounding wind.

Although he was still plummeting rapidly, he was no longer accelerating. What was slightly troubling was that battle aura was consuming at an alarming rate, but to save his life right now, Richie couldn’t care about that.

In the blink of an eye, he was only two hundred meters from the ground.

Richie raised his right hand, hooking his index finger and thumb together, then flicked violently.

An air vortex nearly one meter in diameter shot toward the ground following the flick of his index finger. Richie didn’t intend to attack anyone; he just wanted to slice open the air ahead.

Sure enough, a vacuum fissure appeared out of thin air.

Aiming at this vacuum fissure, he slammed his whole body into it.

When Richie executed the move, he launched it at a forty-five-degree angle. The moment his body crashed into the vacuum fissure, it was as if he had dropped into a pipe; plummeting vertically, he changed into a forty-five-degree diagonal slide. Before he even fell out of the vacuum fissure, a second “A Glass of Blood” shockwave shot out, cutting a vacuum fissure at an angle of only five degrees with the ground.

Almost in the blink of an eye, what was originally a forty-five-degree diagonal drop turned into nearly parallel with the ground.

The instant he emerged from the vacuum fissure, Richie expanded his coat of wind once more, and his falling speed instantly slowed significantly. Right as he was about to touch down, Richie tucked his head in, curled his body into a ball, and extended only his feet.

A heavy shock vibrated through his soles; Richie felt his feet go completely numb. His body naturally rolled forward with the momentum, rolling out several hundred meters like a ball.

A deep trench was carved into the snow, and at the end of this trench lay Richie, sprawled face-down with arms and legs spread wide.

At this moment, he felt dizzy and lightheaded, his feet throbbing with numbness, and his spine aching somewhat.

Struggling to climb up from the ground, he saw the group of college students running over from the hill slope.

Running at the very front was that short-haired female student, shouting as she ran: “Are all knights suicidal like you?!”

Richie gave an embarrassed smile.

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