Popas knew he was pushing it. Ramsey might have been cured, but he was still not as favored as the two other heirs. The patriarch would never punish two noble daughters for the sake of a man who had long been branded as trash.
Everyone in the courtyard understood that, and Ramsey himself knew it better than anyone.
He stood still, watching his ex-fiancée, Vera. She tried to twist the situation to make it seem as though her father had been the one who ended their engagement, as if she bore no blame. Ramsey sneered inwardly, though his face remained calm, unreadable.
When he spoke, his words struck like a thunderclap, leaving the courtyard stunned.
"We need to get prepared? Vera, I will never marry someone like you, even if I had an axe pressed to my throat."
Shocking words followed out of Ramsey's mouth, something no one had expected.
Every face froze, from the startled guards to Lucy to Vera herself. Even Elder Popas, who had guided Ramsey for years, blinked in disbelief.
For the first time in his life, Ramsey had defied Vera openly.
Then, without a trace of hesitation, he ran his fingers through his hair, turned on his heel, and walked away.
The sunlight caught the sweat on his back, making him glimmer as though he had been forged anew.
Elder Popas's expression shifted from shock to something else entirely. A slow, proud smile spread across his wrinkled face. For years, he had watched his favorite young master bow and scrape before Vera, enduring insult after insult, humiliation after humiliation. He had been present the day she rejected him so callously.
Now, to see Ramsey return the favor in front of everyone was a satisfaction beyond words.
Vera, however, was flabbergasted. She could not believe what had just happened. In her wildest paranoia she could never have predicted this outcome. Ramsey, the cripple she had discarded, had rejected her.
Her heart pounded as she stared at his retreating figure.
"Did that useless cripple just reject me?"
she whispered.
The question hung in the air, half disbelief and half outrage.
A storm of emotions churned inside her—anger, humiliation, confusion, and frustration. The foundations of her pride cracked, leaving her unsteady.
Lucy turned to her, equally shaken but unwilling to admit it.
"What a jerk,"
she scoffed, forcing disdain into her voice.
"That weakling really thinks he deserves you?"
She hooked her arm through Vera's and tugged gently.
"Come on, let's get out of here."
The guards stationed all in the compound shifted uneasily. Just a short while ago, they had been showering Ramsey with praise, marveling at his looks when they didn't recognize him, whispering that he was the ideal candidate for marriage. Now the moment he used words that mirrored Vera's own cruelty, their attitudes shifted. The same people who exalted him now dismissed him.
Elder Popas followed Ramsey in silence as they left the courtyard. Ramsey said nothing, but he could sense something at the edge of his vision. When he glanced sideways, he saw the elder's face stretched into the widest smile he had ever seen.
The old man's eyes sparkled with delight, and his lips curved upward as if he were barely restraining laughter.
Finally, Popas let it out.
"Haha… that is my boy! You showed her." He slapped Ramsey's back, his laughter echoing.
"It seems you did not just heal your body. You also grew a pair of balls and even a few brain cells."
Ramsey chuckled. The sight of Popas's joy warmed him in a way he could not explain. The elder almost looked as though Vera had been his fiancée, and her rejection a personal insult he had been forced to endure for years. Now that insult had been avenged, and Popas could not have been happier.
The old man rubbed his snowy beard and said,
"I cannot wait to see her face when you complete the trial. But for that to happen, we must continue your training."
The days that followed were relentless.
Training consumed every waking moment. Rest became a luxury Ramsey could no longer afford. Under Popas's guidance, he pushed his body and mind until both felt like they were on the edge of breaking. Yet the results astonished even the elder.
What Popas taught, Ramsey absorbed without pause. Wilderness survival tactics, which normally took months to master, seemed to flow into his student's mind like water into a sponge. Every technique, every principle, was grasped with startling speed. When they sparred, Ramsey's movements grew sharper by the day, his instincts keener.
It was not only the basics. Popas began teaching him the deeper mysteries of cultivation, showing him how to sense the raw cosmic particles that floated in the world. He explained how these particles could be shaped into laws, the building blocks of true power. Fire, water, earth, light, and darkness—each law was a path, and the Reed clan specialized in fire. That was why, whenever Popas cultivated, his body radiated immense heat.
To his astonishment, Ramsey's body began to radiate the same kind of heat after only a few instructions and training sessions.
"Incredible," Popas muttered more than once, shaking his head in wonder. "I doubted before, but now I am certain. Ramsey is a super genius. Whatever task I set before him, he masters it in a quarter of the time a normal genius would take."
But beneath his admiration lurked caution. Popas knew the truth. Ramsey was the patriarch's bastard son, overshadowed by the favored heirs. If Corlannius ever learned that this discarded child was more gifted than his legitimate sons, the consequences would be unpredictable. It could mean suppression, betrayal, or worse.
A spark of resolve lit in Popas's eyes. He would keep Ramsey's true potential hidden for now.
Yet even as he plotted secrecy, he also made a decision. Ramsey was ready for more.
There was one technique Popas knew, a sword skill so powerful that even among the four great clans it was considered overwhelming and incomprehensible. He had never shared it with anyone, not even the most promising students. It was called "The Falling Precision Strike."
Few could even attempt to learn it. Mastery required a perfect balance of perception, control, and killing intent. Popas doubted anyone in this generation could grasp it. And yet, watching Ramsey's rapid progress, he felt a dangerous hope take root.
If his young master could learn the Falling Precision Strike, then Ramsey would not simply be a genius. He would become a weapon that no one in the Midnight Region could afford to underestimate, a cultivator who could stand among the strongest of all four clans.
Popas stroked his beard once more and looked at Ramsey, who was drenched in sweat but still pushing forward with grim determination.
"Yes," he whispered to himself. "Let's see if he can handle more."