Compared to Psionics who could boost their spiritual essence and awaken spirit skills by killing dark mist monsters, old-school systems relied heavily on personal grinding and cultivation.

As for cultivation speed, it varied by person but was inevitably way slower than Psionics.

Because Psionics could also cultivate on their own—it was just much slower compared to the rapid improvement from monster hunting.

The Dotruu Kingdom was a pretty traditional nation, clinging to the old-school fighting spirit system. Grand Swordmaster was a high-tier stage in the fighting spirit system, roughly equivalent to being a step above ordinary mid-tier Psionics.

The old man paused, then said gravely:

"Your Highness, this old man is concerned that doing so might trash that Ember City noble's reputation."

An envoy represented noble dignity, no question about it.

"His Majesty the King..."

Hearing this, the prince snorted coldly:

"Hmph, don't worry about the king. You got that?"

The old man's heart skipped a beat as a terrible suspicion flashed through his mind. He quickly lowered his head.

"Your Highness, tomorrow this old man will fight with everything he's got!"

...

At the same time, the second prince's mansion was also lit up all night.

"My dear brother's ambition is like a rabid demon wolf, about to bare its fangs."

Second Prince Boli gently swirled his wine glass, then smiled at the corner of his mouth.

"Will the poisonous fangs bite the old hunter to death first, or will they get ripped out by the crafty bastard?"

Across from the second prince sat his trusted aide, completely shrouded in a pitch-black cloak, only revealing a pair of withered arms.

After a long silence, Marr gave no response, like a cold corpse without any aura.

The second prince was used to this. He asked and answered himself:

"Maybe having the demon wolf and old hunter take each other out would be perfect."

With that, he drained the bright red wine in his glass...

...

Elsewhere, in Princess Taff's palace, she showed no expression as she pressed several complex mechanisms, passing through a secret passage straight to a hidden chamber deep within.

The chamber reeked of blood. At the center was a blood-red stone bed, dripping crimson, enchanting and creepy as hell.

Princess Taff murmured:

"Madmen, they're all madmen."

Then she resolutely lay down on the blood stone bed. The moment her tender white skin made contact, the blood stone bed suddenly extended several crimson tentacles, piercing through Princess Taff's body.

Blood dripped steadily onto the dark floor.

Princess Taff let out several muffled groans. The soul-deep pain left her face pale yet strangely flushed with a layer of red.

...

The next day, the sun showed its face, driving away the dark night. The silent royal capital got noisy again.

Warm sunlight spread across the land, and the entire royal capital seemed dyed with a golden tint. The square gradually became bustling.

Unlike previous times, this tournament's finals were actually being held in the royal palace, and one finalist was actually an envoy from the north.

This drew way more people than previous tournaments.

On the main road before the royal palace, traffic was crazy. Whether big shots or small-time nobles, all came when called. Some with sharp instincts vaguely sensed something fishy about this tournament...

...

In the palace square, a large arena stood, built entirely of pitch-black stone.

Not far from the arena were two viewing platforms.

One was the noble viewing platform, with several squads of elite soldiers standing guard with eyes straight ahead.

The other was the royal viewing platform, with fewer guards around it.

This was because the strongest warrior in the Dotruu Kingdom was the king himself. Though old as dirt, the Sword Saint's power could not be questioned.

Sword Saint—the rank above Grand Swordmaster, one who had condensed a fighting spirit core and reached the end of this system, equivalent to a Controller in the Psionic system.

However, being an old-school system after all, their combat power was at the bottom of the barrel among Controllers.

...

On the arena, both duelists were already standing.

One side was a tall golden knight, completely covered in bone armor, carrying a giant shield on his back and gripping a long-handled greatsword, standing there casually.

The other was the elderly man carrying a greatsword, arms crossed, extremely muscular build, hair standing on end. His entire being was like a sharp longsword, radiating killer energy.

Wahoden called out loudly:

"Boy, this old man will use full strength—it's not too late to throw in the towel now!"

In his view, a mere envoy, even one sent by Ember City nobles, would at most reach the mid-tier of the Psionic system.

Because by common sense, an envoy's strength or status was definitely tied to their mission.

And this envoy's purpose in coming to the royal capital was just the small-time task of buying spirit gear.

Called an envoy, he was really just a merchant.

Wahoden recalled the prince's advisor's words—better to win without fighting, since injuring someone would be a pain in the ass.

Hmm?

Ginya paused, looking at the old man with interest. The strong confidence radiating from the old man clearly positioned himself as the top dog.

Interesting, truly an interesting human.

This was Ginya's first time being trash-talked by an ant that didn't know its place. Under its bone armor, a bloodthirsty smile appeared.

This match could be pretty damn fun.

With Ginya's aura buried deep, Grand Swordmaster Wahoden noticed nothing wrong, only feeling this person wouldn't give up without seeing the writing on the wall. A trace of fierceness flashed in his eyes.

Since that's how it is, don't blame this old man.

Wahoden drew the greatsword from his back. Sharp fighting spirit exploded—clearly he was prepared to go all out from the start.

Even a lion uses full strength to catch a rabbit, let alone with the prince's orders.

Boom!

Wahoden's feet made a thunderous sound as he instantly closed in on the tall golden knight. His greatsword swallowed and spat blue sword light—right from the start, he used his killer sword technique: Blue Wind Sword Technique!

Then... Bang!

A figure flew backward. Wahoden thrust his greatsword hard into the ground and retreated dozens of steps before barely withstanding that tremendous force.

"What the hell!"

The viewing stands erupted in chaos.

The one who flew backward was none other than Grand Swordmaster Wahoden, famous throughout the Dotruu Kingdom—a result way beyond everyone's expectations.

The prince's face went stiff, veins bulging on his hand gripping the armrest as he said coldly:

"Worthless piece of shit!"

Along with anger came more shock.

How could a mere envoy pack such serious power? Or was this just the normal standard for Ember City noble envoys?

The prince's expression shifted between dark and light. If even envoys were at Grand Swordmaster level, then the noble power within Ember City...

At this moment, the prince sharply sensed the huge gap between his own kingdom and the northern Ember City.

"Brother, looks like your boy is about to get his ass kicked."

Unexpectedly, Princess Taff, who usually kept her mouth shut at gatherings, rarely voiced her opinion.