Legacy of a Benevolent Lord
Chapter 55: Explore? Explore where? Who?

Chapter 55: Explore? Explore where? Who?

After the meal, Liam Crestfall, Zhen Hollow, and Suyin Bloomveil found their energy brimming.

They immediately rushed to the courtyard and began practicing their martial forms, sword forms, fist forms, and such, letting the surge of vitality guide their flow.

Even several Ashvale guards and stewards who had been stuck in the Bone Strengthening Realm managed to break through, stepping through one realm or two.

Depending on their physical strength and mental capacity, everyone’s rewards differ.

Nysalea felt it too. Her energy was churning gently.

The faint signs of breakthrough stirred beneath her skin.

Her body, light and strong, seemed to hum in tune with the heavens.

She couldn’t help but sigh quietly.

Without this encounter, without this place, and without him, she might have needed two, maybe even three more years to reach this stage.

This was the reality of the martial world.

Nysalea stirred the broth in her bowl for a moment, then looked up, her voice quiet.

"The old saying was cruel, but true: ’Poor scholars, rich warriors.’"

Riven, who was near, paused mid-bite, a skewer of grilled serpent halfway to his mouth.

He looked at her, one brow slightly raised.

"I disagree."

She blinked. "You do?"

He set the skewer down beside his plate and leaned back slightly.

"That phrase was always a pretty lie. A phrase that overinflates a warrior’s worth and understates a scholar’s potential.

A warrior might have strength, but it’s the scholar who decides where that strength is pointed.

Who gets labeled a criminal, and who a hero?

Who eats meat and drinks wine, and who dies in a trench."

Nysalea frowned slightly, curious. "But aren’t warriors respected, feared even? They have a foothold anywhere they go."

Riven chuckled, his suddenly dry amusement.

"Feared... Yes. Like beasts.

Respected... Yeah, only when they bleed for someone else’s ambitions. Shouting the slogan of another man."

He picked up his wine glass, swirled and sipped slowly before continuing.

"Think about it, Nysalea.

Scholars write the laws, draft the war treaties, and seal the imperial appointments.

They never step onto the battlefield, but they decide who marches, how many, and where."

Nysalea interjected.

"But without warriors," she said, "they couldn’t hold anything. One could say it’s scholars who need warriors."

"No," Riven said flatly. "They hold pens. Not swords.

But it’s the pen that names the general, and it’s the pen that decides whether a war hero returns as a noble or as a traitor.

And this imbalance of power alone is enough for warriors themselves to turn on each other... It’s simply human nature.

Scholars don’t need warriors.

Warriors need each other... but that simply will never happen. Every warrior is, to an extent, ego-driven.

In an ideal world or a small community, warriors may rule over each other. But that’s not reality."

He looked at her directly now, the heat of his words muted but steady.

"You think warriors are rich? Not all. Only the ones who kneel or the exceptionally strong and exceptionally intelligent ones..

The rest rot in unmarked graves. How many ’rising stars’ in the martial world flickered out quicker than mushrooms after rain?"

A silence stretched between them.

Nysalea swallowed. "Then... why do you fight if being a scholar means more power?"

"Because of choice," Riven said simply.

In all his life, he wanted more.

Whether it was more freedom, wealth, power... he always wanted more.

One could argue that this is a result of his greed.

Maybe. Maybe it is his greed. But so what?

"I don’t look for wealth or court praise through fighting.

I fight for a piece of history. To carve my fucking name on the bones of civilization.

Holding a pen will not get me closer to this dream. I need both the pen and the sword."

Selene, next to him, looked at him in adoration. Stars practically shining in her eyes.

Not many might understand his words, but how couldn’t she? She was the window to his soul.

’A piece of history... what an ambition my love’, she was too shy to speak those words, but Riven didn’t need her to speak them out loud.

He looked at her with a small smirk. Looking back at Nysalea, he spoke,

"Someone spoke these words...

Power doesn’t rest in the hand that wields the sword.

Power rests with the image, which others believe it to be resting within.

I wish to be one of them. The image that holds the power, I mean."

Poor scholars, rich warriors - this line has been ingrained in the people of this world.

A limiting belief was taught to them since childhood.

’If you had no backing, you could train until your bones broke and still remain stuck,’ so they think.

That’s why many wandering martial artists were willing to join great houses or become retainers to nobles.

If one had no inheritance, the only other path was to sell one’s skill to the imperial courts.

I would be a hypocrite if I said this saying does no good. After all, I need warriors who kneel to me, Riven thought.

This moment passed quickly.

At the end of the feast, Selene went to Nysalea before going upstairs.

Selene smiled and whispered into her ear. "Come explore with us tonight, Sister."

"Explore?" Nysalea repeated in a daze. Her thoughts were in a whirlwind, her heart pounding. In her fluster, she nodded without even realizing it.

But... what exactly did Selene mean by ’explore’?

Explore where?

Explore... who? (⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)

That night, sleep eluded Nysalea.

She lay under the thin quilt, her mind racing.

Was it about some secret discovery? Or had Selene’s earlier whisper been a test? Or worse, an invitation?

Was she... really willing to share him?

Nysalea buried her face in the blanket.

Moonlight slanted through the window, drifting across the wooden floor like a river of cold silver.

Soft footsteps.

Then a gentle knock.

"Sister Nysy," Selene’s voice called from the hallway. "Let’s go."

........

Stoneveil City was a vital crossroads of the Ashenvale Dynasty.

It was a strategically crucial geographic location that easily kept armies at bay.

Before the Sword Demon took up residence here, this place had housed soldiers. However, after the Sword Demon disappeared, the sword intent became rampant.

It was then agreed among the nations that this place would serve as a neutral cultivation ground for all swordsmen in the world.

Tonight, under a shroud of thin clouds, the sky above the Stoneveil Mountains was bathed in darkness.

A shadow crossed the moon.

Solwing, the golden-crowned immortal crane, soared silently above the ridgelines.

On his back were three figures: Riveron Ashvale at the center, Selene Virelyn leaning at his right, and Nysalea Nightsilver clinging lightly at his left.

Nysalea’s breath hitched.

This was her first time in the skies. Her first time flying.

She had practiced lightness techniques before. She could leap from rooftop to treetop, somersault across walls... but all of those feats felt like crawling compared to this.

Now, she was soaring.

Thousands of meters in the air, the vast land below her looked like a flickering patchwork of lanterns and fields.

Estates glowed like scattered stars, too distant to matter.

The wind rushed at her face, fierce and biting.

If not for Riven’s spiritual energy subtly shielding her from the force, she would have felt as though a thousand knives were carving her skin.

She pressed closer to him, one hand wrapped firmly around his waist.

He felt warm.

Under the moonlight, his chiseled profile shimmered like marble, serene and untouched, like a masterpiece crafted by destiny itself. She hesitated.

Then slowly rested her head against his shoulder.

Selene leaned on his opposite side.

There wasn’t much room on Solwing’s back. With three people, it was inevitable that they sat close. Hands touching and breaths mingling.

Selene noticed the shift immediately.

Her smile remained, but her fingers crept down and gave Riven’s thigh a sharp pinch.

He turned his head slightly.

She pouted. Her beautiful eyes sparkled with silent resentment. Yes, it had been her idea to invite Nysalea. Yes, she had meant to bring her closer.

But watching her actually nestle into Riven... that was another matter entirely.

Women... sigh.

Two girls.One man.

Their warmth. Their fragrance. All wrapped around him.

Riveron Ashvale was elated.

And also very, very troubled.

This was every man’s fantasy.

And could very easily be a man’s nightmare.

He shifted slightly and tightened his grip on Selene’s waist, pulling her closer to him.

Their eyes met.

And he smirked playfully. But his gaze said it all: You are irreplaceable.

Selene’s pout vanished.

A gentle smile played on her lips, a smile so warm it almost melted mountains.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, leaned against his chest, and closed her eyes. Her expression was peaceful.

Below them, the ridgeline changed.

They were fast approaching a deep valley shrouded in rolling mist. Even the moonlight could not pierce through the haze.

Just two days ago, Riven and Selene had stumbled upon this place while chasing a fleeing Pusiqu serpent.

And what they had discovered stunned them to no end!