Lord: I can see loyalty.

Chapter 263 Sandstorm at Night

Night fell quickly.

Only the flickering candlelight remained in the study of the Golden Horse Fortress.

Vio sat on the edge of the bed, took off the dark purple magic glove, and casually tossed it onto the small table beside the bed.

The glove landed on the wooden board with a dull thud, the runes on its surface shimmering faintly in the candlelight before fading away.

He stretched his aching right arm and let out a long breath.

He spent the entire day practicing controlling the magic gloves, switching between three types of magic—two offensive and one defensive—while the magic crystal in his palm was injected and released countless times.

He dared not use high-quality magic ore to test it, as it would be too wasteful, since it would be using his own magic power.

Although magic power can slowly recover over time, the rate at which it is consumed far exceeds the rate at which it is recovered.

At this moment, his magical power was almost depleted, his whole body was weak and sore, and his eyelids felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead.

He hadn't been this tired in a long time; the last time was when he broke through to the fourth rank.

Vio lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.

The candlelight flickered, casting his shadow on the wall, sometimes long, sometimes short. His breathing gradually became long and even, and his consciousness began to blur.

The Demon Feather Sword leaned against the headboard, the Demon Feather Shield hung beside the bed, the Magic Gloves were tossed on the table, and the knightly aura was withdrawn.

This was a habit he had developed: weapons were always within reach, his aura could be unleashed at any time, and he maintained a fighting stance even while sleeping.

In his dazed state, he seemed to hear something.

It wasn't the sound of wind, nor footsteps, but an extremely light and subtle breath, as if someone was deliberately lowering their voice.

For an ordinary person, this sound would not attract any attention at all; after all, such a large fortress could not possibly be completely silent.

However, Vio's fourth-order perception ability makes his hearing far superior to that of ordinary people. Even when he is half asleep and half awake, he can distinguish between the sound of wind and the sound of breathing.

He didn't open his eyes, but slowly released his senses.

The knight's aura was like an invisible net, spreading to every corner of the room. He could feel his own breathing, his heartbeat, and the footsteps of the patrolling soldiers outside the window.

There was another person breathing right at the doorway.

It wasn't a patrolman; a patrolman's footsteps wouldn't be so light.

It wasn't Vincent. Vincent wouldn't come in without knocking in the middle of the night. That was an enemy, and a very strong one at that, at least a Grand Knight.

Vio's fingers twitched slightly, already resting on the Demon Feather Sword on the bedside table.

He deliberately let out a breath, his heartbeat remained steady, as if he were still asleep.

But his body was already tense, like a fully drawn bow, ready to shoot a fatal arrow at any moment.

The door was indeed pushed open, almost silently.

A dark figure flashed in, burly and wearing a dark cloak, obscuring his face.

He held a long sword in his hand, its blade gleaming coldly in the darkness. His steps were so light they were almost silent, each step landing precisely on the seams of the wooden planks, avoiding any point that might make a sound.

His goal was very clear: Vio in bed!

He walked to the bedside, raised his longsword, and aimed the blade at Vio's throat.

The next moment, Vio suddenly opened his eyes.

A flash of light appeared; it wasn't an assassin's sword, but Vio's.

The Demon Feather Sword sprang from the bedside table. Vio gripped the hilt and slashed at the assassin's neck with a backhand stroke.

But the assassin reacted quickly, dodging to the side. The sword grazed his cloak, leaving a gash.

He leaped backward, creating distance, his longsword held horizontally in front of him, watching Vio warily.

Vio rolled out of bed, his magic sword lying in front of him, his magic shield held in his other hand, and his magic gloves still lying on the table, unused.

He didn't take it, but just stared at the black figure.

"Christ?" he asked tentatively, his voice calm.

The assassin did not answer, but simply gripped his longsword tighter.

His cloak covered most of his face, revealing only his eyes, eyes that Vio had seen before.

He knew it all too well—at the banquet in the Emerald Palace, in the White Horse family's castle, and in that deceitful letter.

Vio didn't hesitate and immediately brought up the panel.

Name: Christ Rose

Race: Human

His brother, Christ.

But before he could finish watching, Chris pounced on him!

His sword was as fast as lightning, aimed straight for Vio's throat.

Vio dodged to the side and slashed at his waist with his sword. Christ raised his sword to block, sparks flew, and the two of them took half a step back.

Christ's power was indeed greater than he had expected. The power of the White Horse Breathing Technique was not weak. After reaching the third rank, his power was no less than that of an ordinary fourth-rank Grand Knight.

"You should be able to sense that you can't beat me," Vio said calmly.

Christ didn't answer, but pounced on him again.

His swordsmanship was cunning and ruthless, each strike aimed straight for vital points. Combined with the immense power of the White Horse Breathing Technique, he forced Vio to retreat repeatedly.

But Vio was faster; his sword flashes were like a torrential downpour, deflecting Christ's attacks one by one.

The two fought fiercely in the study, their swords flashing and sparks flying everywhere.

The bookshelves were split open, the tables and chairs were overturned, the candlesticks fell to the ground, the candlelight went out, and the study was soon plunged into darkness.

In the darkness, only the glint of the sword flashed in the moonlight.

Christ's sword moved faster and harder, but his breathing became rapid.

Vio's knightly aura suppressed his speed, making each of his attacks a half-beat slower, while Vio's speed increased.

Vio seized the opportunity and thrust his sword into Christ's chest.

Christ dodged to the side, the blade grazing his ribs and drawing a trickle of blood.

He groaned, took a few steps back, clutched his wound, and stared intently at Vio with his gray eyes.

Vio did not pursue, but stood still, his magic sword pointing diagonally at the ground, observing his opponent while also sensing his own magic power.

The fourth-level breathing technique has a strong restorative effect; he has already recovered some of his magic power.

"You can't beat me," Vio said calmly.

Christ still didn't answer, but just stared at him. Then, his gaze fell on the magic gloves on the table.

Before he could do anything, Vio seized the moment when he was distracted, grabbed the gloves on the table, and put them on!

Christ seemed to have guessed something and immediately rushed towards the window. Vio had also aimed at the window, and magic surged in instantly!

Bang!

The fireball shot out and slammed straight into Christ's shoulder.

Christ cried out in pain, but without even stopping, she defied the magic and jumped out of the window.

Vio quickly chased to the window and saw Christ land in the courtyard. He rolled a few times to dissipate the force and then ran wildly towards the north gate.

His shoulder was a bloody mess, and his steps were unsteady, but his speed did not decrease at all. He disappeared into the night in a few leaps.

Vio chose not to chase after him, but simply stood by the window, gazing at the darkness. His magic was running low, and even if he caught up, it would be difficult to keep him.

He turned around, walked back to the table, and took off his magic gloves.

The runes on the gloves were still glowing, and a small amount of magic power remained in the magic crystal in the palm.

Vio put the gloves back on, clenched his fists, felt the newfound power, and a cold glint flashed in his eyes.

"Christ, my brother, next time, you won't be so lucky."

Outside the window, the night wind howled.

Dark clouds are gathering on the northern horizon; everyone knows that the real decisive battle is not far off.