Matthew turned around. A man nearly two meters tall was striding toward him. He was shirtless, his skin bronzed, and his shoulders were as broad as a wall. Slung across his back was a heavy sword nearly as wide as a door.
Most striking was a scar on his bald head that stretched from his forehead all the way behind his ear. He looked quite fierce, but the smile on his face was unexpectedly warm and honest.
“You’re the one who guarded the warehouse yesterday, right?” the man asked. Matthew nodded. “I am.”
The big man grinned, extending a hand the size of a cattail leaf fan. “Let’s get acquainted. I’m Barton, Captain of the Rock Crushing Squad.”
Matthew shook his hand. In an instant, he felt a surge of immense power coming from the man’s palm. It was a test, the most common way for Class holders to greet one another. Matthew’s expression remained unchanged as he applied just enough pressure to match him—neither showing weakness nor over-asserting himself.
Barton’s eyes lit up. “Haha! Not bad! You’ve got some skill! No wonder you dared to take that job yesterday.”
Nearby, many mercenaries looked on with surprised expressions. “Barton is taking the initiative to say hello? What’s this newcomer’s background?” “I heard he was the one who handled the warehouse mission yesterday.” “For real?” “Of course. The Eagle Wing guys were all there.”
The whispers spread quickly, but Matthew remained calm, showing no hint of pride.
...
Barton looked at Matthew, growing more satisfied the longer he observed him. “Are you free tonight? Let’s grab dinner. I’ll introduce you to some friends.”
Aidan’s eyes lit up at the offer, but Matthew didn’t agree immediately. Instead, he asked, “Why?”
Barton laughed heartily. “Because the Royal Capital is too big. If you try to make it on your own, you’ll likely get the short end of the stick. Get to know a few people. That way, if you run into trouble later, at least you’ll have someone to speak up for you.”
Just then, Ryan walked over and said tonelessly, “Go ahead. Barton might not be the sharpest bulb, but he’s a good man.”
Barton’s eyes widened. “Old Ryan! Are you looking for another fight?” Ryan simply smiled without a word. A round of laughter broke out in the hall; clearly, the two were old acquaintances.
...
Matthew thought for a moment before nodding. “Alright.”
“Decisive!” Barton laughed. “Tonight at the Black Deer Tavern. My treat!” With that, he waved and left with his squad members.
Once Barton was out of earshot, Aidan couldn’t help but ask, “Brother Matthew, are we really going?”
Matthew nodded. “Yes.” Aidan was a bit confused. “Didn’t you say we shouldn’t trust people easily?”
Matthew gave a small smile. “Trusting someone and getting to know them are two different things. In the Royal Capital, you can’t survive without friends. But as for who those friends are, that takes time to see.”
He watched Barton’s retreating back with a calm gaze. Yesterday he had met Ryan, and today it was Barton. In the future, he would meet even more people. They wouldn’t all be experts, but this was his first real step toward integrating into the Royal Capital.
While Matthew wasn’t paying attention, a figure was watching the hall from behind the curtains of a private room on the second floor of the Class Holders Guild. It was a middle-aged man in a black formal suit. He looked at Matthew, then glanced at the name on the register before setting down his teacup.
“Matthew...” he whispered the name, a meaningful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’ve finally found you.”
Inside the room, a subordinate asked in a low voice, “My Lord, should we make contact?” The middle-aged man slowly shook his head. “No. Continue observing. Let’s see... if he’s actually worth the investment.”
Outside the window, the sun had completely set. The night in the Royal Capital was just beginning.
Night fell, and the Black Deer Tavern was significantly more crowded and lively than the small tavern Matthew had visited before. The hall was packed with Class holders, and the air was thick with the scent of roasted meat, ale, and charcoal fire.
Barton had already claimed a long table. Seeing Matthew enter, he immediately stood up and waved. “Over here! Hurry up!”
Matthew and Aidan walked over. Five or six people were already seated at the table, all around thirty years old. One was wiping a longbow, another was nursing a mug of ale, and someone else was busy repairing a bracer.
Barton slapped the table. “Let me introduce everyone. This is Matthew, a new friend from yesterday’s warehouse mission.”
The group nodded one by one. No one tried to make things difficult, nor was anyone overly enthusiastic. It was the comfortable distance maintained between Class holders. A short-bearded archer raised his glass. “I’m Ian, long-range specialist.”
A woman with short brown hair laughed beside him. “Mia, Shield Warrior. If we ever take a mission together, don’t you dare hide behind me.” The table erupted in laughter. Matthew nodded, committing each of their names to memory.
...
As the drinks flowed, the conversation grew more varied. They didn’t talk about secrets or nobles; they talked about missions. They discussed where magical beasts were increasing, which merchant groups were notorious for delaying payments, and which blacksmiths had been losing their touch lately.
These seemingly trivial details gave Matthew his first real sense of the lives of Class holders. They didn’t spend every day on grand adventures; most of the time, they were simply preparing for the next one.
...
Suddenly, Ian set down his glass and lowered his voice. “Have you heard?” The others at the table looked at him simultaneously. “What is it?”
Ian looked around to ensure no one was eavesdropping before continuing. “The Guild is planning a Re-ranking soon.”
Barton blinked. “For real? Is the source reliable?”
Ian nodded. “A friend of mine works in Guild logistics. He said they’ve been organizing archives lately. Many veteran squads will have their strength re-evaluated.”
Mia frowned. “Why a sudden Re-ranking?”
Ian shrugged. “Who knows? Some say high-level commissions are piling up and the Guild feels shorthanded. Others say...” He paused for effect. “That things aren't peaceful outside the Royal Capital lately.”
The atmosphere at the table grew significantly quieter. Matthew didn’t interject; he just listened. Ryan had told him that six out of ten rumors in a tavern were true, while the other four were half-truths. You couldn't believe everything, but you couldn't ignore it either.
...
Barton raised his glass and grinned. “Whatever. If the rank goes up, it just means we can earn more gold.”
Mia rolled her eyes at him. “Is there anything in your head besides gold?” Barton thought seriously for a moment. “Roasted meat.”
A burst of laughter broke out, and even Matthew couldn't help but crack a smile. Just then, the tavern owner arrived with a large platter of freshly roasted meat. “Barton, this one is on the house.”
Barton looked confused. “Why?” The owner smiled. “Because you saved my brother yesterday. He was with the Bluestone Town caravan. If it wasn't for you, those Iron-Backed Wolves would have devoured the whole train.”
Barton scratched his bald head and laughed. “It was nothing. We took the money, so we did the job.” The owner shook his head seriously. “It might be a small thing to you, but for our family, it’s everything.” He left the meat and walked away without further word.
The table went quiet for a few seconds. Matthew looked at Barton and suddenly realized that these Class holders didn't just take missions for gold. Often, they saved people they would never see again, and perhaps that was the true meaning of being a Class holder.
Outside, the night deepened, and Matthew finally began to truly integrate into the Royal Capital.
The feast lasted until late into the night. By the time they dispersed, the streets were silent. Patrol knights on warhorses passed by slowly, and the magic crystal streetlights emitted a soft glow, illuminating the city.
Back at the inn, Matthew didn’t rest immediately. He completed his daily cultivation as usual, only lying down once his Spirit had completely settled into a calm state.
...
Early the next morning, at the East Gate, the Green Rock Merchant Group’s transport caravan was ready to depart. There were twelve wagons in total, each fully loaded with goods. Twenty guards stood around the perimeter, along with six Class holders. Clearly, the merchant group had hired permanent guards in addition to the Guild commission.
The caravan manager was a middle-aged merchant in his fifties. When he saw the mission token Matthew handed over, he immediately smiled. “Welcome. I’m Hudson, the manager for this trip.”
Matthew nodded. “Matthew.”
Hudson was clearly experienced and didn't waste time with small talk, quickly assigning positions. “Two at the front, two in the middle, and three at the rear. Matthew, you’re responsible for the right-wing patrol. You have freedom of movement.”
This assignment meant the manager recognized his strength; an ordinary Silver Rank wouldn't be given such a flexible position.
...
As the city gates slowly opened, the caravan set off. Once they left the Royal Capital, the scenery transitioned into vast farmlands with occasional villages. The journey was peaceful until noon when the caravan approached a forest.
Hudson suddenly raised his right hand, and the entire caravan came to a halt. Every guard instinctively gripped their weapons. Matthew also slowly rested his hand on his sword hilt. The air had become unnervingly quiet. There were no birds chirping in the woods, no insects buzzing, and even the wind seemed to have died down. Such silence was unnatural.
“Something’s there,” an old guard whispered. Hudson nodded, though he didn't panic. “Standard procedure. Defensive formation!”
The wagons were quickly arranged into a semi-circle. The guards moved with practiced ease; they had clearly faced such situations before. Matthew didn’t draw his sword. Instead, he slowly closed his eyes, and his Spirit spread out silently. Every blade of grass and tree within a hundred meters appeared in his mind.
A moment later, his pupils constricted slightly. Deep in the forest, over twenty life signatures were slowly closing in. They weren't magical beasts. They were... humans. And every one of them was hiding exceptionally well. Without Spirit perception, an ordinary knight would never have noticed them.
Matthew opened his eyes. His voice was low, but clear enough for those nearby to hear. “Eastern woods. Twenty-three people are surrounding us.”
The guards nearby were startled, and Hudson whipped his head around. “Are you sure?”
Matthew nodded. “The furthest is two hundred meters away, the closest is less than a hundred and twenty.”
Hudson’s face darkened instantly. Without hesitation, he roared, “Prepare for battle!”
Just as the words left his mouth, a pitch-black arrow suddenly tore through the air from the forest! Its target wasn't any of the guards, but rather—Hudson. Matthew’s gaze narrowed. This wasn't a probe; it was a well-prepared decapitation strike. If the manager died, the caravan would fall into chaos immediately.
When the arrow was less than three meters from Hudson, a heavy shield slammed into its path. A shower of sparks flew as the shield-bearing guard was knocked back three steps, a visible dent left in the center of his shield. The other guards’ faces paled. The power behind that shot was at the Silver Rank.
“Enemy attack!”
With a roar, over twenty figures rushed out of the forest. They wore no uniform; some carried blades, some bows, and others swung short axes. Their faces were masked with black cloth, looking like a group of well-trained bandits. However, Matthew immediately noticed something strange. As they charged, they maintained a consistent formation. The archers didn't block the swordsmen, and the shield-bearers protected the flanks. This level of coordination wasn't something ordinary mountain bandits could achieve. They were more like... retired soldiers or professionally trained mercenaries.
...
“First squad! Hold the line!” Hudson shouted, showing no signs of panic. As a manager of a large caravan, he had seen such scenes before. The front-line guards formed a shield wall, circling the wagons, while the archers in the back began to return fire. Arrows crossed in the air, and within a few breaths, people on both sides had fallen.
Matthew didn’t charge in immediately. Instead, he stood on the right wing, observing the entire battlefield. Herbert had once told him: the first thirty seconds after a battle begins are often more important than the three minutes that follow. Those thirty seconds revealed a lot.
...
Matthew soon discovered a second anomaly. Although the enemy had the advantage in numbers, no one was trying to steal the goods. Not a single person even approached the wagons. Their only targets were the guards. More accurately, they were... stalling for time.
Just then, Matthew’s Spirit caught a new presence. Deeper in the woods, another person was standing still, not participating in the fight. They were about three hundred meters away, their aura stable and their breathing long and deep—clearly stronger than the others.
“The leader...” Matthew made an instant judgment. The person truly commanding the battle had yet to appear.
...
...
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