161. The Rage of Being Fooled.

"Hmm?"

"Why is it gone?"

At Fred's exclamation, Allen frowned as he looked at the empty ground. He quickly climbed through the window into Hughes' room and lit a candle.

In the dim, flickering light, there were only the remnants of shattered wood from the window on the floor. The Cat School Witcher, who had been knocked out in Hughes' room by Allen, had also disappeared.

"They were rescued!"

Vesemir's voice came from behind.

Allen nodded slightly without turning around.

In his vision, the scattered, fleeting footprints suddenly transformed into a series of neat red footprints.

Focusing his thoughts. The red footprints suddenly turned into two blurry figures.

One of the figures crouched down, picked up the unconscious Cat School Witcher, and leapt out of the window.

Vesemir was right; it wasn't that Allen hadn't controlled his strength properly, making the period of unconsciousness too short. Rather, someone had taken advantage of the Wolf School Witchers tending to Bond to rescue the two unconscious Cat School Witchers.

"It's okay," Vesemir comforted, "Bond's life is most important. As for the ones who were rescued... those Cat School Witchers..."

"Leaving them here would have been a headache anyway."

He sighed, patting Allen's shoulder.

"Those damned cats, to do something so despicable just for the tournament's rewards..."

Vesemir cursed viciously, looking around at the four Witcher apprentices with lingering fear. Four seasoned Witchers against four newly-trialed young Witchers...

If it weren't for Allen's strength not being part of the Cat School Witchers' plan, Vesemir couldn't imagine what the scene would have been like now.

"No, that's not it!"

Allen's voice interrupted Vesemir's thoughts.

"What do you mean, not it?"

The Witcher master asked reflexively.

"No, the reason those Cat School Witchers attacked us wasn't just for the tournament's rewards..."

Allen paused, touching his chin with his right hand. "At least, it's not just because of the tournament's rewards."

"Why do you think that?"

Vesemir glanced around. Hughes, Bond, and Fred were all puzzled, clearly not understanding anything.

"Although it's despicable, considering the Cat School's usual behavior, the two rewards from the king would indeed be enough to make them take the risk!"

Vesemir said.

"After all, today's mission was just to kill a Wolf School Witcher apprentice."

Allen murmured softly and then looked seriously at the Witcher master, saying: "Master Vesemir, that's what the Cat School Witcher in Bond's room said while gaining the upper hand in the fight."

Vesemir's expression grew equally serious at these words: "A mission?"

"Yes, Master Vesemir."

"This attack was a mission, not an order given by the Cat School to the attackers."

After speaking, the narrow room fell into a dead silence.

Vesemir lowered his head, deep in thought. The young Witchers also sensed the atmosphere and fell silent. The deathly silence lasted a long time. Allen and Vesemir both had the same question in their minds.

Since this was a mission, who was it that hired the Cat School Witchers to attack them?

Vesemir's face darkened. After exchanging a glance with Allen, they both had the same answer in their hearts. However, in front of Hughes, Bond, and Fred, they didn't voice it out.

Then.

The Witcher master sighed softly, stood up, and said: "I'll go downstairs to reassure Bob and Mary. You should tidy up your rooms and then go rest in my room."

------------

Back in his own room, Allen glanced at the corpse lying in a pool of blood. Instead of tidying up, he sat on the bed and mentally opened the Monster Hunting Log.

[Monster Group "Witchers" Lv36 Defeated!]

[Rewards Settlement: Overcoming the Enemy, Basic Rating D, Overcoming Higher Levels +3—C, Decapitation Intimidation +3—B]

[Final Rating: B]

[Gained Loot: Witcher's Memories2, Experience Beads9, Witcher's Treasure Chest*4]

Monster Group "Witchers"?

Allen reviewed the system message after the hunt, feeling a strange sensation.

In the Monster Hunting Log's assessment, Witchers, who are his kin, were also considered monsters?

Then what isn't a monster?

Humans?

Allen shook his head abruptly, chasing away a terrifying thought that had flashed through his mind, and turned his attention to the loot.

"Witcher's Memories?"

The new type of loot stunned him for a moment, but Allen didn't hesitate. With a mental command, he navigated to the item bar and used it directly.

"Zzz~"

Suddenly, a sharp, grating noise rang in his mind, like sandpaper rubbing on glass.

Immediately, the young Witcher's balance was thrown off. In a daze, Allen suddenly found himself in a dimly lit forest clearing at sunset.

To be precise.

In the forest, on a thin, long rope tied between two trees.

This... where is this?

Allen was stunned, asking softly in surprise, but strangely, he couldn't hear his own voice.

Hmm?

What's going on?

"Brett, grip your sword tightly!"

A shout suddenly came from behind, interrupting Allen's thoughts. He instinctively turned around and saw a Witcher carrying two swords. The Witcher had the unique yellow, cloudy cat-like eyes of a Cat School Witcher, wearing dark blue light armor, and holding... holding a whip.

"Snap!"

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through Allen's back. His pupils dilated as he, in his fury, was about to leap down and give that Witcher a lesson. But he found that after a painful cry, his vision shifted back to the scene in front of him.

He couldn't control his body!

No!

This isn't his body.

Only then did Allen realize that he was in the Witcher's memories, in the past of the Witcher named Brett, whom he had killed.

"This is incredibly real."

He marveled at everything in his field of vision. The dim sunlight, the towering trees, the slender branch with a small gray bird staring at him...

Not just that!

Upon closer feeling...

The coolness of the breeze brushing his neck and the burning pain from the whip...

Is this the "Witcher's Memories"?

"Snap!"

Another whip cracked.

"Brett, don't get distracted, focus on your sword practice!"

The stern voice of a middle-aged man came from behind again.

"Allen" stood straight on the swaying long rope, continuously thrusting the "heavy" longsword forward.

At the same time.

The muscles of his legs and the soles of his feet trembled in a regular pattern, offsetting the vibration from his upper body as he thrust the sword, stabilizing his posture. This is Cat School swordsmanship.

Allen thought.

This was Brett's reason for being able to perform a backflip and land effortlessly and steadily on a window ledge less than a palm's width wide.

With this in mind, Allen tried to memorize Brett's muscle movements. Swordsmanship isn't easy to learn. Without someone to guide you, just watching would only teach you a rough idea. Some key tricks often can't be seen from the outside. The breathing rhythm that accompanies certain moves, the movement of a small piece of muscle hidden deep in the body...

It's like how the Wolves' spinning isn't just about spinning around and dancing.

Footwork, muscles, breathing, and even the technique of anticipation—many small tricks that are not apparent on the surface are what allow the Wolves to lay down countless monster corpses beneath their silver swords.

Therefore, Even though he didn't know if these memories were meant to help him steal the Cat School's swordsmanship. If he wanted to learn this swordsmanship, and there wasn't an option to use experience orbs to activate the skill, he had to remember everything his body was feeling as much as possible.

Whoo!

Another swift thrust pierced through the air. It pierced directly from autumn into winter, piercing into a falling white snowflake in the sky. After a brief moment of confusion, the scene before him began to change rapidly.

He was in this forest, practicing swordsmanship with other children on thin ropes, enduring countless sunrises and sunsets. Then, fewer and fewer children his age were on the ropes, and more and more unfamiliar faces appeared.

Until the end.

Another blur, and a strong smell of rust filled his nostrils. The tall trees, children, and thin ropes around him disappeared, leaving only a lonely lamp beside a pool of blood, its weak candlelight flickering.

In his ears.

Soft sounds of cleaning and dragging came from Hughes's room.

[Ding! Would you like to spend 1,000 small experience orbs to unlock the skill: Cat School Two-handed Sword?]

1,000 small experience orbs?

So few?

No!

It must be like unlocking Alchemy and Ritual skills; the memories of this witcher have reduced the original unlocking cost.

Allen nodded and confirmed with his thoughts. There was nothing to hesitate about; the main enemies of the Wolves for a long time to come would likely be humans. The Cat School's two-handed swordsmanship was very important to both him and the Wolves.

A large amount of information flooded into his mind.

In an instant, Allen felt as if he, like Brett, had practiced the longsword on a thin rope for seven or eight years.

A few seconds later, the memory transfer ended.

Immediately after, Allen used another witcher's memory.

Moments later.

[Ding! Your Cat School Two-Handed Sword LV1 has been upgraded to Cat School Two-Handed Sword LV3 (2410/2500)]

Allen opened his eyes from the memories, his face ashen, suppressing his anger as he gritted his teeth and cursed:

"Damn it! Cat School witchers are a bunch of bastards."

----------------

On the hillside outside the White Orchard.

"Thud~"

After being thrown heavily to the ground, two men in black slowly woke up.

"Wha... what's going on?"

One of the witchers held the back of his head, confused.

"You were knocked out?"

"By an apprentice..."

The standing figure glanced in the direction of the orchard and said softly.

"How... how is that possible?"

"How is it impossible?" The figure didn't turn around, and there was a hint of disdain in his tone. "Being knocked out? Or being knocked out by an apprentice?"

In the deep, heavy darkness, the other witcher who had been thrown to the ground also stood up, his tone filled with disbelief.

"Guxart!"

"Do you really think we could be knocked out by a group of witcher apprentices who just passed the trial?"

"It's clear that the Wolves' kind had prepared in advance."

Guxart's face turned a bit ugly upon hearing this. He found it hard to understand how a favorable situation had turned into what it was now. The most likely trouble—the master witcher—had been held off by him and his companion.

Why would there be a problem when four veteran Cat School witchers were dealing with four Wolves' apprentices who had just passed the trial?

Shouldn't it have been steady and sure, an easy victory?

Among the four, Fredeca and Brett were not much weaker than him. But now, They couldn't even save their own lives. Thinking of Brett's severed head, lying alone in the cold pool of blood, Guxart shivered all over.

Executing a fellow witcher by decapitation...

Was the one who killed Brett really one of the supposedly neutral, soft-hearted Wolves?

"Wait!"

"Where are Brett and Fredeca?"

The Cat School witcher who had just gotten up from the ground counted the people, asking in confusion.

"If we had problems, they shouldn't have."

"They're both dead!" Guxart said softly.

"What!"

The two Cat School witchers were shocked, looking at Guxart in disbelief.

The black-clad man beside Guxart glanced fearfully at the White Orchard in the darkness and said: "When Guxart and I heard a shout from the room Fredeca was in charge of next door, we realized the plan might have gone wrong."

"And then, a few minutes later, Fredeca suddenly went silent, so we took the opportunity to withdraw from the battle."

"And then..."

The black-clad man suddenly paused.

"And then what?" The two Cat School witchers urged impatiently.

The black-clad man swallowed, his voice trembling slightly: "And then, when we saved you two in the inn, in the last room, we saw Brett's body, separated from his head, lying there..."

The two Cat School witchers, who had been somewhat indignant from being ambushed, still harboring thoughts like "The Wolves' witchers are too merciful, just knocking us out," suddenly felt a strong chill seep from their tailbones directly into their scalps.

Generally, such a beheading method only occurs when there is a significant disparity in strength during a fight. Someone with such power would find major arteries or the heart much easier and more accessible as targets.

After all.

A human's neck is recessed, protected by the hard skull. So this method of death seemed more like intimidation. Intimidating these attackers.

"Damn it!"

"Guxart, we've been fooled!"

"Who commissioned this job? Who provided the information?"

"They must have either colluded with the Wolves or watched us go to our deaths, hoping we would kill each other off with the Wolves' witchers, weakening our School's strength."

"Otherwise, if they knew there was such a powerful person among these witchers, how could we have sent so few people?"

"Guxart!"

"Who exactly commissioned us to hunt these Wolves' witchers?"

The moonlight was swallowed by thick clouds, taking away the last faint light from the earth. Faced with the questioning of his Schoolmates, Guxart gazed distantly at the only lighted spot in the center of the Orchard, his dull, dark yellow cat-like eyes flickering.

He turned back.

The anger of the Cat School witchers was so intense that even the pitch-black darkness couldn't contain it.

So.

After a few seconds of silence, a similar fury burned in his eyes as he was filled with the wrath of being fooled. Gritting his teeth, he said: "The King!"

"The one who commissioned us to hunt the Wolves' witchers was none other than the ruler of this land under our feet..."

"The King of Kaedwen—Henselt!"

....…

📢20 advanced chapters on p@treaon📢

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162. A Bountiful Harvest.

163. Too Weak!

164. Even if He is the King of a Nation!

165. The Woman in the Camp.

166. The Daisy of the Valleys and the Child of Miracles.