Chess Mage of Faerûn

Chapter 76 A Somber Triumph

On the way back, Zhang Yuan and his teammates were once again overjoyed to have a Druid on their team.

As night falls, the Sharp Tooth Forest grows ever deeper and deeper. The starlight and moonlight that stream down from the sky seem to be silently swallowed up, leaving only a few specks that add to the desolation of the forest.

If the forest during the day still possesses a certain liveliness, and the birds and beasts that occasionally pass by can be considered companions on the journey, then the pairs of greedy green eyes that appear here at night, and the mournful howls, can only evoke deep fear in people's hearts, or turn into curses that linger in midnight dreams.

While the elite Flame Fist soldiers were not intimidated by the eerie atmosphere, traversing the forest at night was by no means a pleasant experience.

"May Sylvanas protect your steps, may his grace and peace protect you, may the trees of the forest raise their arms to guide your way, and may the beasts of the forest see you as a friend and not extend their claws to you."

Jadi's murmured prayer reached my ears, as ethereal and melodious as a nightingale soaring in the night sky, or as clear and pleasant as a wind chime hanging in front of a wooden house being swayed by a gentle breeze.

The night was calm and uneventful. Before Lossandar could cast its first rays of dawn upon the earth, the group arrived at Baldur's Gate.

Fortunately, the fellow Flame Fist fighters on night duty didn't waste any words, and the group marched proudly into the city amidst the respectful yet envious gazes of the city gate guards.

The right fist is clenched and pressed against the left chest. This is the salute of the Flame Fist, and it is also the action of the guards on both sides when fallen soldiers are carried through the city gate.

There will always be suffering and danger in this world that someone has to bear, and there will always be things worth risking everything to defend.

Perhaps those who are saluting are already prepared, and perhaps they would make the same choice if they were in the same situation.

But this does not prevent them from paying tribute to the pioneers.

As soon as they arrived at the entrance of the Flame Fist headquarters, an adjutant came to greet them.

"Captain Ska, the two Grand Dukes have been waiting inside for almost a whole night. They are eager to hear your report of the victory."

Ska didn't rush in. Instead, he pulled his adjutant aside and gave him a series of instructions, explaining everything from arranging the dead and treating the wounded to dealing with the prisoners, before finally entering the house with peace of mind.

The adjutant who took over the task summoned a squad of Flame Fist soldiers, handed over various matters to the victorious returning troops, and then ordered them to disband on the spot and go back to rest.

What a fierce battle, what a long night's journey! When Zhang Yuan and his teammates returned to their camp, they felt completely exhausted.

Zhang Yuan, whose physique was above average, was able to manage to take a shower, but the other teammates, except for a few like Bard who had iron bodies, didn't even take off their clothes before collapsing straight onto the bed, or even just lying on the floor on the way to the bed.

Actually, things weren't much better for someone else. They slept until dark. That's right, they finished everything and returned to their camp at dawn, while Zhang Yuan slept through the entire day and more.

Upon waking up, Zhang Yuan had nothing to do, so he wandered aimlessly to the lobby on the first floor, only to find that there was something new in the lobby.

It was a notice board with a dozen or so lines of large black characters written on pale yellow parchment.

Upon closer inspection, Zhang Yuan discovered it was a list containing the names of those who had died in the battle—names of his comrades-in-arms, his teammates with whom he had spent the past two months, training and playing together.

Below the list is a line of text: The funerals of the above victims will be held at the Temple of Tyre on the fifteenth afternoon of the last month of the year.

December 15th? That's tomorrow afternoon, right? Zhang Yuan realized.

He had originally planned to go with Bard, that barrel of wine, to the Three Old Barrels for a good drink, but now it seemed impossible. He couldn't forgive himself for missing his comrades' funeral ceremony because of this drink.

So this is what war is like.

Having spent the night lying in bed, practically counting down the days, Zhang Yuan came to the training field at dawn, wanting to vent his frustrations.

After warming up, Zhang Yuan went through a series of basic training exercises. After completing the set, slightly sweaty, he prepared to begin his usual footwork practice. "Now that you've finished warming up, it's time to get serious," Nancy said, appearing out of nowhere as she walked over.

"Why are you here?"

“Didn’t I train you here before? What? You want to quit? Fine, but the registration fee won’t be refunded,” Nancy said matter-of-factly.

"No problem, I'm ready, but this afternoon I have to..."

"I'll be attending the funeral this afternoon, you don't need to remind me. Now, grip your weapon tightly."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Nancy charged forward with her training wooden sword. Zhang Yuan, who was about to say something, stopped thinking and swung his sword to meet her.

He used all the basic skills he had learned—slashing, thrusting, parrying, deflecting, dodging, and rolling—but these were only enough to keep him alive against Nancy's onslaught.

This was already the result of Nancy holding back. Nancy, who was originally agile, had restrained Zhang Yuan's abilities in almost every aspect, whether it was skill, speed, reaction and footwork.

Zhang Yuan, who was at a disadvantage, was truly living a life of hardship. Every time he made a probing attack, his opponent would intercept it as if anticipating his move, while his opponent's attacks left him struggling to defend himself.

Before long, he was covered in blows, and his body was hit several times. Although he was thick-skinned, it still hurt.

"Wait a minute, ouch~, I already said stop!" The person who had just signaled to stop but was still hit several times in the process started howling.

This shout attracted the attention of several teammates nearby, who looked over curiously. Even though Zhang Yuan could afford to lose face, Nancy couldn't.

She stopped fighting in annoyance and swung the wooden sword in her hand forcefully: "What are you trying to do now? You can't even handle this little injury? You're not even as good as a woman as me."

"Easy for you to say, it's not like you're the one getting beaten up," Zhang Yuan thought to himself, but didn't dare say it aloud.

“I mean, the gap between us is too big. Why don’t we start practicing from the basics like we did a few days ago? I’m not learning anything this way.”

"The skills I was supposed to teach you were already taught to you back then. But look at you now, did you even use a single one of them? When you were fighting, you only used the basic skills you had practiced for a long time. Where were the advanced footwork skills I taught you?"

"I haven't even had a chance to practice, how can I possibly demonstrate it in actual combat?"

"This is just practice. If it were real combat, you would have died countless times by now." As soon as she finished speaking, Nancy swung her sword at her again.

There was really no way to deal with this kind of combat training. All I could do was try my best to defend against the opponent's attacks while recalling the skills I had learned in the past few days and trying to use them to deal with the current situation.

The result was, of course, disastrous. They were just beginners and couldn't even use it skillfully, let alone in such a high-intensity battle.
Whenever he tried to use his footwork to dodge Nancy's wooden sword, he found that by deliberately using this technique, he spent more time reacting and thinking, and was interrupted by his opponent halfway through his movements. It was not as practical as the basic techniques he used before.

As for offensive postures and footwork, not to mention, every time I struck a pose according to the "standard pose" taught by Nancy, my teacher saw right through me and then just waited for me to stupidly run into him.

In short, after practicing all morning, Zhang Yuan felt that he hadn't learned anything and had only learned how to get beaten up.

Fortunately, it's over for now, but the thought that this kind of practice will continue for a while makes Zhang Yuan feel like he has no will to live.

Thank you all for your enthusiastic support. It seems this book will be featured on the category's cover this Sunday. Just between you and me, could you please give me a recommendation vote?

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(End of this chapter)