The Cornflower Witch

Chapter 62: The Boy He Once Was, (8)

Two days later, Lady Franne returned from her outing.

“Have you decided to go to the Hidden Grove?” The blonde noblewoman pressed one hand lightly against the armrest, tapping it from time to time as if lost in thought.

“I actually traveled there before, though it wasn’t in Regas, it was on the Merchant Capital Alliance side.” She recalled the memory briefly.

“The competition inside is fierce. Only the selected prodigies and those with promise from across the lands go there.”

“If you don’t have a background or foundation of your own, going there is indeed the best choice, though it carries certain risks.”

“I had originally planned to keep you by my side a while longer. In a couple of years I could directly recommend you into those organizations, so you wouldn’t have to go through the Hidden Grove’s selection tests.”

“That path would be much easier and steadier.” She lifted her gaze to the young girl in front of her.

“But since you want to try it yourself, I won’t stop you. Actually, you’ll gain far more experience that way.”

“As the old adage says, ‘A flower nurtured in a warm room does not grow resilient,’ one must endure some trials before true growth.” As she spoke, Lady Franne seemed to remember something.

“Little Tia, do you like growing flowers?” she suddenly asked.“Yes. Because the process fills you with expectation and hope.”

“That’s an interesting view, but most people plant and cultivate for the final harvest.”

“Some care about results, some care about the process. You can’t really say which is superior, but…” Her expression grew a bit solemn.

“Tia, results are only a moment, while most of the time you live in waiting.”

“If you cannot enjoy that waiting, you will become miserable, because waiting is the most tedious thing. Facing countless unknowns, guessing how the future will unfold, you become anxious and nervous about the outcome.”

“That anxiety and pain will slowly devour your talent, your spirit, and the serene mindset you had when you first set out.”

“I understand, madam.” She realized Lady Franne was imparting a lesson she must always remember.

“Talking to bright children is always so comforting.” Lady Franne nodded slightly when Sylutia — Tia — showed she had taken it to heart.

“Since you’ve decided to compete for a spot next year, then as your guide on the gardener path, I must teach you some real skills as soon as possible.”

“Not just the Branch Grooming Method and the Gardening Apprentice rank, but also ways gardeners protect themselves when danger appears.”

“If you truly plan to enter the Hidden Grove, those methods are almost mandatory. Without them, even if you go, you’ll have difficulty adapting to that environment.” She thought for a moment.

“Starting tomorrow, I’ll have Lining teach you some practical combat techniques. I will also gradually pass on some of my old notes and the gardener inheritance tomes I acquired in my youth.”

“Even if you can’t learn everything right now, once your rank is high enough in the future, you’ll be able to master them on your own.”

“Thank you, madam.” Sylutia felt both expectant and curious.

…

Since that day’s talk about the future, everyone had become busier. Karen worked hard on her Breathing Technique, aiming to reach Third Tier within the month.

In fact, the Breathing Technique is unusual. If your companions and comrades have reached higher tiers, even if you haven’t broken through yet, you gradually sync up from constant exposure to their breathing rhythms. Little by little you pick up the cadence and meaning embedded in those breath cycles.

That makes breakthroughs relatively easier.

History contains many similar examples. For instance, when Regas was first being developed, Regard Bouverie’s legions almost all knew the Breathing Technique, and countless knights achieved the “Third Tier: Castle” rank. That is why Regard Bouverie was honored as the “Knight King.” Periods when so many heroes gathered are often recorded by history as a nation’s golden age.

As combat learning and training reached plateaus, trainees no longer went down to the training grounds every day but scheduled their training individually.

“Big Brother Jello!”

In the afternoon, Mick returned to that familiar small courtyard south of the city, shouting.

“Oh, it’s that brat Mick back.” The others waved and laughed when they saw him.

“You’ve changed a lot recently. Your body looks stronger.” Someone went over and jabbed his arm to test his muscle.

“Heh heh.” Facing old friends and seniors, Mick scratched his head, feeling like the awkward rookie he had been when he first started adventuring.

“I learned a lot during this time.” He answered with some feeling, then searched with his eyes.

“Where’s Big Brother Jello?”

“He’s… resting in his room right now.” At that, the expressions of a few teammates turned a little awkward.

Sensing the strange atmosphere, Mick didn’t press the matter. He quickly walked to the house in the courtyard and pushed open the simple wooden door.

The rough cloth curtains were drawn tight, with thin light seeping through rips and seams. Empty wine bottles lay tipped over on the floor, and the bed was full of thunderous snores.

Seeing Jello asleep, Mick relaxed a little; he had feared something had gone wrong.

He picked up the bottles on the floor one by one and set them on a wooden rack, then brought a small stool into the room and sat in front of the soundly sleeping man.

“Big Brother Jello, I advanced to First Tier.” Mick spoke softly, his voice low enough that only the two of them could hear.

If this were in the past, he probably would have shouted the news for everyone to envy him, but now he was steadier and had seen far more powerful people; advancing to First Tier no longer felt like a miraculous achievement.

Unfortunately, the man in the bed was still oblivious, snoring as before.

Mick shook his head helplessly, feeling a bit foolishly glad. He stood and looked around the shabby room, remembering his first arrival here.

He grew up in a village far from Scorchstone City, located along a busy route. The inns in the village were lively every season, and his mother worked as a maid at one of them.

She was an ordinary woman. Facing those greasy travelers day after day, her temper hardened, and she lacked the gentle kindness Mick had imagined a mother would have. She barely cared for him emotionally; she only kept him from starving.

When he grew up he began looking for work, doing odd jobs in the village like other children.

What truly changed his fate was the day Jello arrived with a group of teammates to complete a task, dealing with powerful beasts ravaging the area.

He encountered the Breathing Technique by chance and, after several days of practice, completed his first cycle. Jello, thinking the boy had potential, spoke with Mick’s mother and took him out of the village.

Nearly two years had passed since he left the village. He’d grown taller and bulkier, and more importantly, he was no longer so aimless.

Knowledge can indeed change a person. Mick glanced at his reflection and recalled the changes over these months.

Having reminisced, he returned his attention to Jello, preparing to greet him and leave.

First he straightened the sleeping man’s posture, then smoothed the rumpled bedsheets. At that moment Mick noticed something and picked up the half-burned, brown tobacco on the bed to sniff it.

It smelled of scorched-day herb—definitely the roasted variety. Mick frowned slightly.

When lit, this herb gives off a choking odor most people dislike. But for those accustomed to it, the smoke brings an intoxicating stimulation that can suppress pain and ease anxiety.

Does Big Brother Jello like this? I’ve never seen him use it before.

It’s probably for pain suppression, Mick reasoned, since Jello carried many internal injuries.

But addiction to such a thing isn’t good. Mick had seen addicts at the inn when he was a child, people whose spirits wilted except when inhaling the scorched-day herb.

With some worry, Mick tidied the room simply and then left.

“I’ll be back in a few days to share my results with Big Brother.” He told the sleeping Jello, then closed the door.