Jonas shrewdly suggested that he teach Mr. Troll to speak, and Mr. Troll teach him swordsmanship, which was fair and just.
Simon went into the woods, chopped a suitable fresh branch, carved it into a sword shape, and handed it to the boy; he also shortened his pants to prevent him from constantly falling down.
Jonas had an expression of delighted surprise, as if an adult in his family had given him a sugar cube.
Simon slowly demonstrated a set of Wudang Dan Sword techniques on the snow, serving as a simple basic martial art suitable for beginners with undeveloped internal energy. It comprised thirteen methods and forty-one moves, which might not sound like much, but it was already quite difficult for someone without any martial arts foundation.
The Troll's arms were long and powerful, and his footwork was agile; in actual combat, he could use more powerful martial arts, but now it was teaching time, allowing Jonas to practice.
The Emei sect had the Ape King Swordplay of the middle eighth rank, which, by its name, seemed to suit Simon now. However, whenever he saw this name, he was reminded of the Yue Maiden Sword from the works of Jin Yong, and a wave of melancholy would rise, making him unwilling to use this swordplay. The same applied to Emei's secret fifth-rank Yue Maiden Swordplay.
Half of the afternoon quickly passed, and Jonas had only learned ten moves. Simon didn't bother him, instead practicing other sword forms himself. The dazzling array of techniques made the boy's eyes burn with envy, and for a moment, he almost forgot everything he had just learned from Simon.
Simon finally understood the feelings of a physical education teacher.
Back to the hut, time to eat.
As night fell, Simon planned to go fishing on the coast tomorrow. Perhaps he could find a way to weave the Frostbite Spider's leftover webs into a fishing net, which would save him the anxiety of waiting idly for prey.
Jonas burrowed into his bedding, saying goodnight. Simon nodded to him, then went to sit by the fire, adding some firewood. Seeing that the fire was sufficient, he immediately entered a state of peaceful meditation.
As his meditation deepened, the flow of magical energy around him gradually became clearer in his mind. If the spirit was like a hand, materialized by concentrated thought, formless yet substantial, then magical energy was like clay, capable of being molded, and inherently a chaotic energy without attributes.
Unlike superior affinity, magical energy is a relatively superficial product; the two have a grandparent-grandchild relationship and are incomparable. It is like the elemental energy of heaven and earth, except that magical energy is compatible with the spirit, while elemental energy is compatible with the body.
After Simon probed the magical energy, he tried to capture it with his spiritual power. It was effective, but like using a sluice gate to block a river, after the gate was raised, the water still surged relentlessly.
To use magical power freely, one still needs a Vessel.
Of course, a brain is a good thing. After spiritual power and magical energy are deeply combined—like an oil and water mixture, becoming something else, certainly not Balala energy—it can be retracted into the mind. And strangely, the magical energy processed this way gains a strong sense of presence, as if there's an organ in the brain containing it, and its quantity can be judged by a feeling of pressure—like a bladder, only holding urine causes anxiety, while holding magical energy does not.
This organ—or whatever it is—Simon planned to name it the Magical Energy Nucleus, or Sea of Magic, or Magic Core. In any case, the name isn't important; a good enough translation will suffice.
However, what left Simon quite speechless was that he had no chance to experience what it felt like for his Magical Energy Nucleus to be full. The Troll bloodline and the Pure Land in his palm continuously absorbed energy, leaving his mind always empty.
"Sigh." The Troll sighed faintly by the fire. Jonas secretly opened his eyes to observe. The golden-red firelight burned on the silver fur, like the Sea of Ghosts at sunrise. The Troll seemed like a divine being carrying the rising sun.
The boy chuckled to himself at his own fantasy. Simon awoke from his meditation, turned to look at Jonas, who quickly quieted down, squeezed his eyes shut, his breathing still rapid, and a blush on his face.
Does this boy really have an emotion like fear in his mind?
A subtle smile inadvertently appeared on the Troll's ugly face, though it was still very ugly…
"Mr. Troll, aren't you going to sleep yet?"
The boy knew he couldn't fool Simon, so he whispered to him from a distance.
The lazy Icefield Wolves lay sprawled, bored, emitting soft whines and snores. The firewood in the bonfire crackled, and the lean-to became extremely quiet. The quiet atmosphere, the darkness and shadows, seemed to be imbued with humanity at this moment, observing the creatures inside the hut with gentle eyes from a world untouched by the firelight.
On such a night, even without moonlight, it was clear as water, serene as jade, every low murmur like a footnote to words of love.
In the little boy's heart, life sometimes felt like a mere instant, yet it was comparable to decades.
The poetic nature of the Breton also flowed in his veins.
"Mr. Troll, tomorrow I'll play the flute for you. That bad old man has a bone flute, but he can't play it, I can…"
Simon poked the bonfire, intending to sleep for a while.
He lay down beside Jonas.
Whispers were like the nasal hum of a thousand people talking, meaningless, disorganized, lulling one to sleep.
The boy talked himself to sleep. Simon smiled, tucked him in, and then closed his eyes to slumber.
Under the continuous influx of magical energy, the Troll transformation remained active, and thus, the Troll began his sleep.
…
Wandering in an ice cave.
A dark figure stood on an ice pillar, roaring at the approaching hunters.
Before Simon could clearly see the hunters' faces, his vision abruptly floated, inverted, spun, vibrated, and then plunged into water.
Ice water, then sinking, it was seawater, salty, and getting colder and colder.
Breaking through the surface from underwater.
A scorching blaze flashed and disappeared, the intense light blinding his eyes, and darkness descended.
The wind never stopped, and the cries of deer rang out. A faint light poured in, illuminating a herd of deer in the night, plump red deer. The Troll rushed over, and they quickly fled, except for one exceptionally strong doe, its pure white body like a plump pearl.
He killed that deer, and the tears from its eyes flowed continuously, forming a great river that submerged his vision.
…
Simon woke up.
Last night's dream.
It was the Troll's.
He smiled, not giving it much thought.
Simon gently patted the boy's cheek. Jonas woke up, his face flushed, still wanting to lie in bed, unwilling to leave the warm bedding roll.
The Troll mercilessly pulled the boy out, and he thrashed in mid-air like a fish out of water.
"Go." Simon said a single word, and Jonas was startled.
"Are you speaking?"
"Go, eat." Simon repeated, putting the Breton down, and led the Wolf Pack away from the lean-to, trekking towards the coast.
There were new catches in the fishing pit.
Today's breakfast was roasted fish, cheese-roasted fish.
The Wolf Pack did not resist the hot cooked food. Whether human or Troll, everyone was satisfied with such a breakfast.
Life was uneventful, but Simon was already getting the hang of it.
Log updated.
[Quest: Explore Magic]
Quest One (Completed): Attempt to sense magical energy with your spirit.
Quest Two (Uncompleted): Learn a magic spell.
-------------------------------
I've already uploaded 40 chapters of this story on Patreon!
If you enjoy it, come check out the latest chapters in advance.
Here's the link:
[patreon.com/Greyhounds]
Thank you so much for your support!!
"And If you're enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!"