Magic Blood Warrior

Chapter 2 Sole

A Few Mornings Later...

After a breakfast of lamb chops, fruit salad, honeyed bread, and sugared milk, Gray, dressed in light gray training gear, walked towards the castle's open-air training ground, his personal maid following a step behind.

The castle chef's breakfast suited Gray's palate perfectly. While he felt a slight pang of regret for the dishes of his previous life, the current fare was certainly far from unpalatable. It made sense, he thought. Nobility, being the group in this world most versed in indulgence, would never allow their taste buds to suffer. The chefs they employed were inevitably masters of their craft.

"Young Master Gray, good morning!"

Walking along the corridor leading to the training ground, maids and footmen frequently bowed respectfully as he passed, their attitudes extremely deferential. Though a b*st*rd son, he was a b*st*rd son favored by Viscount Fergus. These servants were obviously not foolish enough to show him any disrespect.

Gray acknowledged them with a slight nod, just as "usual," and continued on his way to the training ground.

The training ground was paved with white stone, roughly half the size of a football field. Clusters of brightly colored flowerbeds bordered it, and a stone pavilion with a table stood nearby, offering a place to rest after training.

One person was already present on the field: a young man in his early twenties, clad in white leather training armor. He had handsome features and striking blond hair that shimmered under the sunlight.

Seeing Gray approach, the young man's expression flickered for an instant. He stopped his practice and walked over. Taking a towel offered by a maid, he wiped the sweat from his brow and addressed Gray.

"Gray, why not rest a few more days before resuming training?"

As he spoke, the young man smiled warmly, his manner extremely affable. Yet, Gray couldn't help feeling a spark of wariness ignite within him.

This young man was none other than his (the body's) eldest brother, Bernal Fergus, born to Viscount Fergus and his lawful wife.

The original owner of this body might have been fooled by that "affable" display. But Gray, having navigated society for years in his past life, had caught the flash of dark displeasure in the young man's eyes the moment he saw him. Though quickly masked, Gray had noticed it.

"Thank you for your concern, Brother Bernal. I'm almost fully recovered," Gray replied, mimicking the original owner's tone of voice.

"I see. Well, you go ahead and train," Bernal said with a nod, then turned and walked towards the nearby pavilion.

Watching him leave, Gray stepped onto the training ground and began recalling the cultivation method.

In this world, only one cultivation system existed: the Blood Warrior path. It was a system humans developed through their struggles against Bloodbeasts, learning from the beasts themselves. Hence, the related cultivation techniques were called "Blood Arts."

The Blood Art practiced by Gray and the Fergus family was called Wind Wolf. It was derived from a Bloodbeast known as the Wind Wolf and consisted of four distinct stances: Crouch, Lunge, Rend, and Howl.

Crouch mimicked the wolf patiently waiting for prey.

Lunge mimicked the wolf pouncing on its target.

Rend mimicked the wolf baring its fangs to tear into its prey.

Howl mimicked the wolf baying at the sky.

Running through the four stances in his mind – though he wasn't the original person, the muscle memory remained – Gray began practicing, starting with the first stance: Crouch.

He spread his feet into a half-squat, leaned his torso forward, bent at the waist, and stretched his arms out, palms facing down – like a wolf poised for prey. Simultaneously, he visualized a cyan Wind Wolf crouched low in tall grass, its jade-green eyes fixed intently on distant prey.

He held this position for a full ten minutes. Then, suddenly:

He drove hard against the ground with his feet, propelling his entire body forward in a powerful lunge. His hands, fingers splayed like claws, mimicked a wolf transitioning from waiting to the attack. In his mind, the visualized Wind Wolf mirrored the movement, lunging.

He held this Lunge stance for another ten minutes. Then, his lunging claws transformed: his hands came together, wrists touching, thrusting forward like snapping jaws, mimicking the wolf's tearing bite. The visualized wolf's action shifted to Rend.

Ten minutes later, he slowly lowered himself back into a half-squat, letting his arms hang loosely. He tilted his head back, mouth stretched wide open as if baying at the heavens – the Howl stance. The wolf in his mind now became a Wind Wolf howling at the moonlit night sky.

Completing the full sequence left Gray drenched in sweat.

Whether due to the original owner's lingering memories or ingrained muscle memory, Gray's execution of the stances, while not perfect, was passably standard. Nothing appeared overtly abnormal. He had considered finding another place to train, but since he usually practiced here, a sudden change might arouse suspicion. So, he had dismissed the idea, coming to the training ground as the original owner always had.

He stopped practicing, his face impassive, but his heart sank.

The worst possible outcome. The Blood Power cultivated by the original owner really is gone.

He had held onto a sliver of hope that practicing might reignite the Blood Power hidden within his body. Now it was clear: the Blood Power had genuinely vanished. Whether its disappearance was due to the original owner's fatal injury or his own transmigration, the fact remained: it was gone.

Losing his Blood Power was disastrous. The sole reason his b*st*rd status garnered the Viscount's favor was his displayed cultivation talent. If Viscount Fergus discovered his Blood Power had vanished, he might not be expelled immediately, but the Viscount's regard would certainly plummet. Without that favor, facing the shadowy mastermind's assassination attempts, his fate was grim.

My physical condition has regressed to before cultivation, back to square one. A single practice session has nearly exhausted me.

Wiping the sweat trickling down his forehead, Gray reflected. Normally, a lower-rank Blood Warrior could manage two full sequences of the Blood Art consecutively. Yet, just now, he had barely managed one.

The only silver lining is that the Wind Wolf bloodline within me hasn't disappeared.

Cultivating a Blood Art wasn't enough on its own. Crucially, one also needed the corresponding Bloodbeast bloodline. Only possessing both the Art and the matching bloodline allowed one to become a Blood Warrior.

Humans obviously didn't naturally possess Bloodbeast bloodlines. Therefore, families possessing Blood Arts would typically implant the corresponding bloodline into their children before cultivation began. The method involved using the most precious essence within the Bloodbeast's blood – the Blood Essence – blended with certain medicinal herbs, which the child would then ingest.

The original owner's memories on this process were vague. He had only gained the Viscount's favor two months prior. When the bloodline implantation occurred, he clearly wasn't favored yet, so the Viscount hadn't explained much.