Extreme exhaustion made Roland stagger.

It was late at night by the time he returned home.

So after a quick meal and a simple wash, he collapsed onto his bed and fell fast asleep.

Perhaps it was an effect of the Knight’s Breathing Technique. When Roland woke up the next morning, he felt no trace of fatigue. In fact, he was invigorated, feeling even better than before.

He let out a long sigh and circulated the Knight’s Breathing Technique once more. After confirming that the flow of Fighting Spirit in his body was a scorching heat, not the cold sensation Graham had described, he pushed open his door and walked into the kitchen.

The hearth fire was soon lit, and before long, a simple yet hearty breakfast was ready.

Since Bronson had been absorbed in his research lately, Roland made sure to set aside a portion of food to bring him.

Only then did he go to wake Galvis.

As for Teresa, the diligent young woman had already rushed off to the Adventurer’s Guild early that morning to gather information.

Watching the Minstrel wolf down his food, giving him frequent thumbs-ups, Roland mulled it over for a moment before speaking slowly.

"Galvis, how much do you know about... Extraordinary Professional Knights?"

"Huh?"

Hearing a question Roland had practically worn out, Galvis forced down the food in his mouth and replied helplessly.

"Roland, I’ve already told you everything I know about that. After all, I’m not a Knight. I can’t answer the more profound questions, and I certainly can’t give you any advice on your Breathing Technique training..."

"I understand," Roland said, chewing his food. "I just wanted to ask... do you know what most Knights feel when they practice their Breathing Technique? The Qi Sensitivity, I mean—their Perception of their Fighting Spirit... what is it like?"

"Well..."

Galvis frowned, trying his best to recall.

"I did deal with a few Knights during my travels across the continent, and we talked about this topic. According to them..."

The Minstrel’s fingertips unconsciously plucked at his strings.

"The feeling of Fighting Spirit circulating through the body is like flowing water—sometimes gentle, sometimes turbulent—but it always carries a... unique, cold chill."

"Is that so..."

Hearing the expected answer, Roland took a deep breath.

After a moment of silence, he discreetly changed the subject.

"Galvis, you’ve traveled the continent for so many years, you must have heard plenty of strange tales, right? I once read in some adventure novels about mortals being granted Dragon Blood. Has something like that... ever happened in real life?"

"A Giant Dragon granting Dragon Blood to a mortal?"

As the topic touched upon his field of interest, Galvis didn’t notice Roland’s awkward transition.

He simply waved his hand, a derisive smile on his face.

"Roland, don’t forget that every story has its roots in reality. But a legend this illogical, with no basis in the real world? That’s something only a third-rate Minstrel would cook up!"

"The Dragon Race is an unbelievably proud people! Mortals are no different from ants in their eyes. Barring some special circumstances, why would they ever bestow their blood upon a mortal? And besides..."

Galvis snorted disdainfully.

"Remember what I told you about Warlocks?"

"Their twisted appearances are the foul result of their bodies being unable to withstand the fusion of bloodlines. So even if a mortal was truly granted Dragon Blood, unless it was by accident, there is only one ending..."

The Minstrel held up a single finger, his tone casual yet firm.

"Over time, they would be warped by the Dragon Blood, eventually becoming a mindless shell or an out-and-out monster!"

As his words faded, a brief silence fell.

"Uh... ahem..."

Noticing the grave expression on Roland’s face, the Minstrel cleared his throat and asked, puzzled.

"What’s wrong, Roland?"

"Nothing."

Roland shook his head lightly, instantly reigning in his thoughts.

"Then, Galvis, are there no examples in this world of successful fusions with other bloodlines?"

"Of course there are! And quite a few at that!"

This topic clearly hit on something Galvis was passionate about.

He strummed his strings, recounting the tale as if telling a legend.

"For instance, the Naga have a natural affinity for the Fishman bloodline."

"And the Elves—they have an affinity for the bloodlines of natural creatures. Ancient texts record that some Elves even actively introduced animal bloodlines into themselves to enhance their Power, which led to the evolution of the Druid as an Extraordinary Profession."

"And then there’s the Dragon Race Bloodline you mentioned..."

The music from his strings grew more rousing, and Galvis became more animated, even standing up and planting one foot on a wooden chair.

"Legend says that because the Dwarf Realm in the Northern Lands worshipped the Dragon Race, they received a gift from the dragons in ancient times, causing many Dwarves to have an Awakening of their Dragon Race Bloodline."

"Their Forging Skills also improved by leaps and bounds as a result, and they even used Magic Elements to create machines that could move on their own. Of course..."

The music died down, and the Minstrel smacked his lips, not quite finished.

"These are all just legends from old books. At least in this day and age, I have yet to see any species that can perfectly fuse with a bloodline other than its own..."

Hearing this, Roland fell into deep thought.

’The Dwarf Realm in the Northern Lands...’

’Although the drop of blood from the Giant Dragon hasn’t caused any obvious changes yet, that doesn’t mean I can just ignore it.’

’The lead Galvis provided might be centuries old, but it’s the only information I have right now about a mortal being granted Dragon Blood.’

’Maybe... I could go investigate the Dwarf Realm in the Northern Lands...’

Just as he was pondering this, Galvis sat back down and, while stuffing the remaining food from his plate into his mouth, asked a question.

"By the way, Roland, why the sudden interest in all this?"

"Just curious."

Roland brushed the question aside and asked one of his own.

"How are the preparations coming along for the supplies we’ll need?"

"They’re all ready."

At the thought of having to travel with Avril for an extended period, the Minstrel slumped dejectedly onto the table.

"Roland, do I really have to go? I’m not much of a fighter; I won’t be any help against Demons..." 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

"It’s not up for discussion. Unless..."

Roland was unmoved.

He didn’t have an accurate assessment of Galvis’s true strength yet.

But the Minstrel’s ability to disrupt the Fishman attack on the ship with just his music was enough to warrant his inclusion in the adventuring party.

That kind of crowd-control ability was nearly on par with the [Dazzling and Enchanting] Trait of a [Juggler], and perhaps even surpassed it.

Because Roland could clearly sense that the Minstrel’s ability had a greater range and more varied effects.

Thinking of this, Roland continued.

"Unless you can convince Avril."

"Never mind, then..."

Galvis shivered instinctively at the mention of Avril’s name.

Just then, a clear, bright voice called out from the courtyard.

"Roland! We’re back!"

Before her voice had even faded, Avril’s nimble figure appeared beside the wooden table.

Teresa, following close behind, still wore her usual aloof expression. It was only when she saw Roland that a faint, almost imperceptible ripple stirred in the depths of her calm eyes.

"Mr. Roland."

Teresa sat gracefully in the wooden chair beside Roland. After taking a set of utensils, she began to enjoy the food on the table with swift efficiency as she spoke clearly.

"Miss Avril and I have gathered some information and have carefully selected a suitable quest. If everything is ready, we can set out tomorrow morning."