The blades clashed with a resounding crash, the sword edges tugging back and forth between the strong and weak blade, scattering a trail of sparks.
The oak shield alternated between thrusting forward and avoiding blocks from the side.
In front of the church courtyard, Danji and Jeanne each wielded an armed sword and an oak shield, engaging in tense swordsmanship attack and defense.
On the balcony of the second floor, Jia Li sat on the window ledge, swinging her legs and munching on an apple, watching the intricate duel.
In the intense clang of metal, Danji suddenly charged forward, his figure surprisingly leaving a trail of afterimages.
The oak shield in his hand pressed against Jeanne’s arm, positioning him on her right side, the longsword passing over her arm, almost grazing the armor on her abdomen.
Although Danji suffered ten consecutive defeats in the arena, maintaining a fearsome legend of not winning, his skills were far superior to Jeanne, who used farmers’ techniques.
"That technique just now was a supernatural martial skill of breathing method, commonly referred to as the bow style." Taking two steps back, Danji explained to Jeanne, "Pay attention to the coordination of breathing and back muscles, and imagine throwing yourself out using your spine."
Jeanne furrowed her brows, recalling Danji’s movements, stomped her foot and also rushed forward, but almost sprained her ankle.
"Not like that, look at me, look at me."
Standing in front of Jeanne, Danji demonstrated again, suddenly charging forward over a meter.
Jeanne earnestly held her sword, starting to try repeatedly, but after ten attempts, she still failed.
Fanning the breeze with leaves, Danji smiled reassuringly, "Don’t rush, it took me a full one..."
Before he finished speaking, Jeanne suddenly darted forward, though without leaving any afterimages.
She turned her head to Danji, "?"
"Cough cough cough." Danji coughed violently, barely raising a thumb, "It took me an hour to learn it back then, you learned faster than I did."
"Cough cough, almost, almost..." Danji quickly changed the subject, "I have nothing more to teach you, you’re learning quickly, even the four grips of the sword you’ve mastered."
At this point, Danji couldn’t help but lament, "If you were a knight, your talent and potential would be enough to get knighted as an Imperial Knight in the arena."
"I don’t want to be a knight."
Danji had argued with Jeanne about this many times, knowing it wouldn’t lead anywhere, he simply dropped the topic.
"Well, originally you should train horsemanship and extraordinary martial skills on horseback, but you don’t have a horse, and my Black William doesn’t allow others to ride, so it’ll have to wait."
Danji thought for a moment, then took out two books from Sangpo’s pouch, handing them to Jeanne.
Jeanne received the books with some puzzlement, "Is this ’Knight Cyril’? What’s the other one?"
"Yesterday your breathing method reached phase two, this book is my gift to you.
This is my annotated ’Knight Cyril’, though it’s a novel, it’s renowned for its detailed and realistic warfare content, I’ve annotated key parts.
I know you recognize few characters, so the other book is explanations of terms and unfamiliar words from it, if there’s anything you don’t understand, you can ask me, Jeska, or His Majesty."
Mentioning this, Danji couldn’t help but recall His Holiness the Pope.
He wondered how their father cultivated them, Jeanne could learn any knightly martial skills at once, her progress almost unwavering.
As for His Majesty Horn, he memorized Elian words for two weeks, his level already catching up to mine.
While learning Elian, Horn even simultaneously studied knightly poetry and various grammar, logic, mathematics, and other Church arts.
It was not only talent but also effort.
He burned the midnight oil reading books daily, kept a book beside him during meals, worked on exercises late into the night.
When Danji prepared to guide Horn’s grammar the last time, he found his compositions filled with complex and lengthy sentences he couldn’t understand.
"I’m going out for a walk, you continue practicing."
Packing up Sangpo, Danji’s departing figure almost seemed to be fleeing.
Walking from the monastery to the outside camp, he surveyed the scene, various groups of ten families gathered together enjoying breakfast.
Though chaotic, there were still traces of order, especially their hair, which looked neater than ever.
According to the Pope Country canon law set by Horn, men’s hair must not exceed the eyebrows, women’s hair must not go past the shoulders.
They must wash their face in the morning, clothes aren’t allowed to have holes, if there are, the monastery will provide free fabric scraps and lend needles and thread to patch them.
Any Pope Country believer must get up and assemble at the third rooster crow.
They must divide into male, female, and child camps, perform a penitential run, and recite catechisms along with the leader while running.
After the exercise run, it’s the routine step-by-step prayer and hymn singing. Those who sing the loudest can wash up and eat first.
After breakfast, according to the arrangements of the various ten and hundred household captains, they respectively engage in a series of work such as collecting potato roots, logging, weaving, and raising livestock.
Lunch is generally skipped, or brought with black bread to sate hunger, and before eating, hymns must also be sung.
Before dinner, there’s continued step-by-step prayer, along with hymn singing, and after dinner, they listen to His Holiness the Pope and Gulag Gold Medal Scripture Reader Armand preach.
After all, the believers of the Gulag Monastery, who are now in power, are either Company Commanders or the same Priest, and must learn.
Armand often quotes lengthy teachings and integrates them into daily life stories for believers to easily understand.
As for His Holiness, he excels in telling short parables, such as telling how Miseria and Saint Berel met an old woman on Holy Grail Mountain.
There, plagued by lions, she would rather live there with her family than leave, due to the heavy land rent collected by the Master Knight.
Miseria lamented that harsh taxation is fiercer than lions.
Every time he tells such short stories, Horn vividly brings them to life as if they were happening on the spot, and the morals he conveys are very reasonable.
Furthermore, almost every day, he tells two or three different short stories, which further solidifies his credibility as the Holy Grandson.
After the preaching ends, they proceed with a collective grand prayer, after which they can sleep and do whatever they need to do.
This set of teachings was written by Horn, fully titled "Gulag Doctrines—From Awakening to Sleep."
However, since the dash was Horn’s invention, people often read it as "Horizontal Line Awakening and Sleeping Doctrine," abbreviated as the "Horizontal Sleeping Doctrine."
Danji dismounted and walked through the people, while the villagers gave him friendly smiles.
This Grand Master was entrusted by His Holiness the Pope with the task of overseeing law enforcement, patrolling every day.
Previously, knights would always favor the Armed Farmers and monks, but this one always stands on the side of the Public Register Farmers and refugees.
He even deliberately sides with the Public Register Farmers.
The Armed Farmers dislike him, but the Public Register Farmers warmly welcome him.
As he walked along, many Public Register Farmers stood up, inviting Master Knight to sit down and eat with them.
However, Danji politely refused, as he still had a patrol to do.
After circling the camp, he strolled casually, walking all the way to the edge of the dirt road.
Danji stopped his footsteps, sitting on a rock.
He stood upright, gazing at the muddy dirt road and the nearly returned-to-normal Honey River not far away.
Danji’s expression didn’t change, but the creases between his wrinkles were filled with sorrow.
The Church’s army was about to arrive, and as a knight ordained by the Church, he ought to be loyal to it.
But based on his understanding of Archbishop Banifus, if he really was that ambitious master, he would surely magnify his achievements.
By then, not even two hundred "cultists" heads would satisfy his appetite.
What have these civilians done wrong?
Caressing the scabbard, Danji rarely relaxed his posture, lying back on the stone, blankly staring at the distant sky above.
Just as Danji was about to fall asleep, a deliberately suppressed footstep startled him awake.
"Master Knight, don’t act, it’s me!"
With his hand on the hilt of his sword, Danji cautiously scrutinized him.
"I’m a refugee here, just came back from collecting firewood," the man answered sheepishly.
After sizing him up and down, Danji, without further ado, stepped forward and grabbed his wrist: "Stop pretending, you spy, come, let me take you to see His Holiness the Pope."
Danji immediately recognized that he was not a believer of the Gulag Papal State.
Unkempt beard, hair reaching the chin, face dirty, clothes tattered, with a tear even at the crotch.
Even new refugees must first cut their hair and wash their face.
Most importantly, it was now the afternoon rest time, and you dare say you were out collecting firewood?
Apart from those Black Hat Army sentries, nobody would dare to be outside, don’t they want their flowing black flags anymore?
The High Castle spy, until he was hauled in front of Horn, couldn’t understand how Danji had recognized him.
He thought he had disguised himself so well!