Chapter 161: Chapter 148: New Knight Reserves

The warm spring sun scattered like shards of gold over the Knight Training Square at the center of Red Tide Territory.

In the middle of the square stood a temporary platform, reinforced with oak and black iron nails, in still silence.

On the platform, Louis wore a cloak of red and black, standing as straight as a lance.

Behind him stood eight young boys and girls, clad in full armor, with solemn expressions.

Their backs were straight, and a longsword hung at their waists.

These were the eight who passed last year’s Blood Stone trial.

A year has passed, and now they are all Apprentice Knights.

The most outstanding naturally was Weir, who had broken through to become a Mid-tier Official Knight.

He stood at the forefront, the sunlight illuminating his stern side profile, while the Red Tide Emblem on his armored chest glowed brilliantly.

Below the platform in the square, over seventy young boys and girls stood densely packed.

Their faces, marked by the shadows of malnutrition, were immature and thin, yet filled with excitement, agitation, and indescribable longing.

They all came from six subsidiary territories under Red Tide Territory, holders of knight blood certified by the Blood Stone, who fate occasionally favored.

But they knew better than anyone, if not for the presence of the Lord on the platform, they would not stand here today.

They were but children of slaves, craftsmen, and refugees, one of the “dead fish” that were to die in hunger and war.

Before the last winter of plunder arrived, their homes were long ruined by war, parents bent over picking firewood in the cold wind, arguing and pleading for food in the snowy night.

Many brothers and sisters disappeared into winter without leaving a name.

But Lord Louis appeared.

He sent relief food, brought soup pots and tents, letting them survive in the ruins, sent people to supervise, settling them one by one.

He pulled them and their parents out of the mud, placed the seed of hope in their hands, and said, “Take this and live.”

He also used the Blood Testing Stone to draw their blood, finding possibilities beyond fate for them.

Among these children was a small, thin girl standing at the front of the line.

Her name was Mia, from White Stone Village, once destroyed by war, the daughter of the carpenter Ian.

She was not supposed to live.

Last year, she was near death due to a high fever, shivering in the night wind.

It was a Red Tide Knight sent by Louis who carried her into the camp, a physician staying up all night by the fire to reduce her fever and cold.

Then an epidemic broke out and her father fell ill too.

If not for Lord Louis risking his life to hunt a Fire-backed Turtle and personally directing the development of steam therapy, her father Ian would have turned to ashes long ago.

Louis not only saved them but also prevented her from becoming an orphan.

Now Mia can eat three meals a day and play with other children in the sunlight.

All of this was granted by the youth standing on the platform.

When she stood here and looked up at the platform, it was not just ordinary respect.

It was a reverence bordering on faith.

“I want to become strong,” she once secretly told her father, “I want to protect you, just like Lord Louis.”

Her father Ian was reluctant to let her participate in the knight trials, fearing the hardship, the distance from home, and her falling sick again.

But when he saw the determination in his daughter’s eyes, he simply said softly, “Go.”

Now these children stand on the legendary land of Red Tide.

Their eyes, like being pulled by a magnet, clung tightly to Louis’s handsome face.

He was as solemn as a Divine Being’s sculpture, yet more real than any hero in legendary stories.

In their eyes, at this moment, Louis was the Sun.

And they were like subterraneans seeing the Sun for the first time.

The light was too dazzling, but they couldn’t look away.

They were restless, whispering softly to each other.

Some secretly wiped away tears from the corners of their eyes, a mix of the relief of survival and gratitude towards their benefactor.

Others bit their lips tightly, as if fearing that if they relaxed, they would be driven from this land of dreams.

No one wanted to return to the past nor lose this opportunity.

Louis’s gaze slowly scanned the square, passing over those pale yet fervent faces, worn by wind and snow.

The next moment, he raised his right hand and waved it lightly.

The entire square fell silent in an instant.

Louis spoke, “Each of you is chosen by heaven. In your blood is the mark of those qualified to step onto the knight’s battlefield.”

No complex words were used, but each word struck like a hammer on their hearts.

The youths below the platform were stunned.

They opened their eyes wide in disbelief, as if confirming whether the words were meant for them.

Ignoring their expressions, Louis continued, “Many among you will fall, give up, or get lost. But some will truly become Red Tide Knights.”

He said, raising his right hand, “A year ago, eight people passed the trial.”

With a wave of his hand, eight youths walked out from behind the platform.

They marched forward in unison, armor clanging melodiously.

This made the children below the platform instinctively straighten their spines.

They were the same age as the children below, not tall in stature, yet a sense of pressure slowly approached.

The most prominent was Weir at the front, already a Mid-tier Official Knight.

His stance was as straight as a spear ready to thrust, and though he said nothing, many youngsters in the audience instinctively swallowed their saliva.

His face was stern, with both hands behind his back, and his gaze was fixed, like an ice sculpture.

But if you got close, you’d see his ears a little red, and his eyes barely able to hide his excitement.

That’s right, he was thrilled, thrilled beyond measure.

After all, it was the first time in his life that “Lord Louis personally called his name,” and he stood at the very front.

He was enduring it with great difficulty.

But outsiders couldn’t tell; he was still the genius knight he always was.

Louis’s voice rang out once more, louder and more powerful than before: “They were once like you. Youthful, bewildered, even fearful. But now they are the sharp sword that guards this land!”

His voice broke through the silent snow like a trumpet: “And you can as well!”

As soon as he finished speaking, the square exploded.

The children were instantly ignited.

Applause, cheers, and excited shouts rose one after another.

“Ahhh! I also want to become a knight!”

“If it’s me, I can do it! I can stand there too!”

“Lord Louis, I won’t let you down!”

Many youngsters blushed on the spot, clenching their fists tightly, their faces flushed red, almost jumping with excitement.

At that moment, they believed: Their destiny could truly change.

And on the high platform, the wind lifted Louis’s cloak.

He just looked at them calmly, as if to say: “Then prove it to me.”

Then a man clad in gray iron heavy armor, draped in the Red Tide Knight’s cloak, stepped onto the platform.

His footsteps struck the hearts of the youngsters, each step heavy and firm.

His face was stern, muscles tight like rock, and the gray iron shoulder guard engraved with weathered battle scars silently told the story of the blood and fire he had gone through.

He was none other than Barnes, head instructor of the Red Tide Reserves.

He was originally the apprentice knight instructor of the Calvin Clan, but had to follow Louis to the Northern Territory because he offended someone.

Having him as the head instructor of the Red Tide Reserves was more than fitting.

Barnes stood firm, scanning the crowd in the square, his gaze as cold and piercing as an icicle.

He said in a deep voice: “I won’t be gentle with you; this place is a prelude to the battlefield. Crybabies should go back, those who can’t take it can leave now.”

His words carried an intangible pressure.

A few young children turned pale, their necks instinctively shrinking, and some even trembled slightly.

But not one person stepped back.

They stood there, pale-faced yet stubborn like grass bent but unbroken by the wind and snow.

Some had lips bitten white, some lowered their heads, clenching their fists tightly.

They thought of their parents, their ruined village, and the time they lay on a sickbed, burning with fever, barely clinging to life…

They thought of who had dragged them out of hell to stand here today.

It was the lord standing on the high platform, radiant like the sun—Louis.

This grace could not be squandered, and this opportunity must not be missed.

Louis, seeing this, smiled contentedly.

He looked at those youthful faces and silently thought: “Now, I lack neither money nor resources… so long as I can cultivate even ten Official Knights, it’s all worth it.”

He knew well that what truly determined the outcome of future battlefields was never the cold weapons or the thickness of the walls, but the number of knights.

It was those capable of wielding Fighting Energy, facing enemies with extraordinary power.

To cope with future unrest, hidden crises, and even larger scale wars that might ignite, he needed more knights of his own.

At times, he thought of directly recruiting Official Knights.

But reality was harsh.

Those born into orthodoxy, already at the official level, were almost all life-long loyalists cultivated from childhood by the nobility.

No matter what the price, they wouldn’t easily “change their allegiance.”

“That’s not a loyalty that money can buy,” Louis knew all too well.

Yet he hadn’t given up; as long as there were masterless, war-torn vagrant knights, he was still willing to offer a high price to recruit the best fighters among them.

Anyway, now he lacked no money, since the Demon Marrow Ore was like a money-printing machine when opened.

He could barely consider himself a “mine boss” now.

Of course, the ones he could truly trust were always the knights he personally cultivated.

So he had already devised his next plan in his mind:

Each time a new batch of refugees and slaves were incorporated into Red Tide Territory, organize a Blood Stone testing to detect children with knight potential.

Set up temporary knight academies to provide food, lodging, and cultivation for children from afar;

Leverage the Daily Intelligence System to secretly target and excavate those “hidden seeds.”

In fact, among these children, three or four had already shown qualities of Extraordinary Knights, and Louis had quietly noted their names, preparing for special training.

Although no talent for Peak Knights had been discovered yet, except for Weir…

But he believed that day wouldn’t be far away.

These young ones who never backed down would be the cornerstone of future “Red Tide Knights.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep