Murphy continued, "Stuart Territory is not without these things, Your Highness. It’s just that you’ve never truly seen them before."

"You feel uncomfortable because you’re starting to realize you’re stepping from the position of ’the protected’ into the realm of ’allocating protection’ or even ’deciding sacrifices.’ You’re beginning to see the cold side of how this system operates. You were once a part of it without knowing, and now, standing on the threshold, you’ve finally glimpsed the truth within."

Elizabeth subconsciously clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.

She couldn’t refute Murphy’s words.

"Then... what should I do?" she heard herself ask, her voice even softer than before.

Murphy was standing at the threshold of the doorway, where light and shadow met. The warm firelight from inside split across his form, leaving him half in light and half in shadow.

"Get used to it, Your Highness. Not by becoming numb, but by understanding and accepting it. Then, use your status to do what you can—comfort the people, coordinate supplies, or at the very least, don’t become another burden who needs extra protection."

"As for these green plants," he said, glancing one last time at the leaves trembling in the night wind, "their existence may be out of place, but they also remind you that even in the cruelest environments, survival and maintaining normalcy are, in themselves, a form of strength. The only difference is whose survival, and who defines what’s normal."

With that, he said no more and turned to enter his own room.

Elizabeth stood alone in the silent courtyard, motionless for a long time.

The scent of burning pinewood, the sharp fragrance of plants, and a faint hint of ambergris lingered in the air. In her ears, she could almost imagine the thunderous clamor from the Lower District, weaving a bizarre duet with the trickling of the fountain before her.

She slowly raised her hand, her fingertips gently brushing against the hard, smooth leaf of a nearby holly plant.

The touch was cold and real.

...

Murphy stepped into the stone house.

Inside the door was a rather spacious antechamber.

Underfoot lay a thick, warm bearskin rug. Its edges were embroidered with intricate geometric patterns in gold and silver thread, muffling his steps completely.

The walls were covered with deep blue brocade tapestries depicting abstract mountains and falcons. Bathed in the steady, soft glow of bronze sconces in each corner, they lent the room a solemn and dignified air.

The air was filled with the crisp scent of pine. It came from the specially selected, smokeless pinewood burning in the fireplace, and from a brass censer in the corner, from which a light smoke of myrrh and ambergris slowly rose. This completely dispelled the damp chill of the mountain night and masked any odors that might have seeped in from outside.

Even in summer, the nights in the Eastern Border Mountain Range carried a slight chill, but this room was as warm as spring.

He passed through the antechamber into a more private living room.

The space was larger, and the furnishings were clearly more deliberate.

A wide, low couch with soft velvet cushions rested against one wall, next to an oak coffee table carved with scrolling foliage.

The opposite wall featured a built-in bookshelf that reached the ceiling, filled with neatly arranged books. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Farthest inside, the outline of a bedroom was faintly visible behind a glass door with a carved wooden frame.

The Knight who had led him here had not been exaggerating. This was truly the best accommodation they could possibly arrange. While it couldn’t compare to the luxury of a true noble’s manor, in this frontline fortress—especially when contrasted with the scene in the Lower District—it was practically paradise.

Murphy walked to the low couch, undid the clasp on his outer robe, and let the dust-covered, dark blue garment slide off, revealing the more form-fitting clothes he wore underneath.

He unbuckled the Longsword from his waist, walked to the wall, and hung the ring at the end of its scabbard on a bronze hook specially embedded in the stone.

Then, he took out the deerskin pouch Aurora had prepared for him, untied it, and opened the Glazed Bottle inside. With his fingertips, he picked up a pinch of the faintly shimmering "Dust of Dawn" and placed it in his mouth.

The powder dissolved instantly. A cooling sensation was followed by a gentle warmth, like the first rays of dawn seeping into his bones, invigorating his body, which had been slightly weary from travel and combat.

He found a flat spot in the center of the rug and sat down cross-legged.

His spine naturally straightened as he formed a simple Seal with his hands, holding it in front of his Dantian.

With each breath, the Qi within his body began to flow, slow and steady, like a subterranean current.

Within his Dantian, the core mass of Qi was potent and pure. Its quality was stable at a level of 1.9, just a single step away from reaching 2.0 and becoming First-Grade Mana.

Supported by a physique of 3.0, his total amount of Qi had progressed further, holding steady at 2.1. His Spirit had also reached 2.4.

His foundation was far more solid than any ordinary Great Knight could imagine.

He had long since broken through the so-called pinnacle of mortals.

However, Murphy’s mind did not immediately quiet down with the circulation of his Qi.

Elizabeth’s pale, confused face, the shock and bewilderment clear in her dark eyes, and her instinctive discomfort with the immense injustice before her—a feeling she herself didn’t fully comprehend... these images sent ripples through his tranquil mind.

’Why did I say those things to her?’

Murphy asked himself.

He was not one to enthusiastically teach or explain.

At Monte Castle, his guidance for Kaiden had also been more action than words, always brief and to the point.

’Principles?’

This world was full of principles—cruel, warm, false, and true. Everyone had to wade through the mud themselves to truly understand.

Preaching was often hollow and powerless, even inviting resentment.

But just now, looking at the pure land of the courtyard—a stark contrast to the Purgatory of the Lower District—and seeing Elizabeth standing on the pebble path, looking around in a daze, the words had flowed from his mouth uncontrollably.