Chapter 90 Classification

The Misty Forest.

Rustle.

A breeze passed through the canopy.

A yellowing leaf trembled at the end of a branch.

Its edges had curled.

Insects had eaten small holes through it.

At last, the stem gave way.

The leaf fell.

It spun slowly toward the ground.

Three seconds more, and it would join the countless others already carpeting the forest floor in brown and yellow.

Then, over the next four or five months, it would wither, rot, and disappear into the soil.

Eventually, some clump of weeds might draw a trace of nourishment from what remained.

Whoosh!

A violent gust shattered that peaceful descent.

The wind was too sharp.

Too sudden.

Too focused to be natural.

The dying leaf disintegrated almost instantly.

Tiny fragments scattered through the air like dust.

Some stuck to the rough bark of a nearby oak.

Some settled across fresh green stems.

Others spun through the disturbed air and clung to messy strands of black hair.

“Ugh.”

Xia Nan shook himself vigorously.

Broken leaves and bits of grass scattered from his clothes and hair.

Then he turned and looked behind him.

A trail nearly ten feet long had been carved through the dense undergrowth.

Grass flattened.

Brush broken.

Plant juices sprayed across the torn path.

It looked as though a wild beast had simply plowed straight through the forest.

The result was not bad.

Xia Nan still frowned.

Not good enough.

He was practicing the technique Forgan had taught him two days earlier.

[Fang Hunt].

The demonstration Forgan had given in the goblin cave had been outrageous.

The man had nearly shaken the cave apart.

Dozens of goblins and their bugbear leader had been scattered like bowling pins.

But after two days of training, Xia Nan had developed a much clearer understanding of what the technique actually did.

[Fang Hunt] was not fundamentally an attack technique.

Its core was movement.

A burst.

A charge.

A way to drive the body forward with explosive speed.

Whether that charge became an attack depended on the user.

As for the frost crawling across the ground like ice serpents and the terrifying pressure that had nearly frozen the monsters in place…

That was probably Forgan.

More precisely, something connected to Forgan’s class.

And when it came to reducing monsters to chunks of meat?

[Fang Hunt] might have increased speed and momentum.

But the real answer was much simpler.

Forgan’s body was ridiculous.

A man built like iron and stone crashing into something at that speed would naturally produce ridiculous results.

Xia Nan did not exactly feel cheated.

Still…

[This really does feel like one of those seller-showcase-versus-buyer-reality situations.]

Forgan used [Fang Hunt] and became a living avalanche.

Xia Nan used it and bullied some bushes.

There was a gap.

A very large gap.

[How long is it going to take before I can do the same thing and mow through enemies like grass?]

Fortunately, the technique itself was unquestionably real.

That alone made the training experience worlds apart from the questionable manuals Xia Nan had bought in town.

Those things always felt like trying to patch a leaking roof during a rainstorm.

Fix one hole.

Another appeared.

Fix that.

A third one opened.

[Fang Hunt] was different.

Training it felt like training [Spinning Slash] had once felt.

Steady.

Clear.

One step forward at a time.

Every day, Xia Nan could feel himself getting slightly better.

If he discovered a flaw and corrected it properly, repetition turned the correction into muscle memory.

Then the same mistake stopped appearing.

There was something almost reassuring about that kind of progress.

And as he practiced, the underlying structure of the technique gradually became easier to understand.

The legs.

Waist.

Abdomen.

Back.

The muscles had to be coordinated through repeated high-intensity training so they could release stored power together in an extremely short burst.

Stride frequency had to be adjusted.

Speed had to be controlled.

A specialized breathing method helped time the exertion.

His skeleton and center of gravity had to remain within a narrow range that allowed the technique to activate cleanly.

If Xia Nan had to describe it in simpler terms…

Imagine a winter wolf hidden deep in the snow.

It watches its prey.

Waits.

Builds tension through every muscle.

Then explodes forward like a released spring.

A leap.

A bite.

The weapon in the user’s hand became its claws and fangs.

[Fang Hunt] had originally emerged among barbarian tribes in the northern highlands.

Those tribes had watched the movements of powerful predators, then adapted those hunting motions to the advantages of the human body.

Eventually, a gifted combat master had refined those ideas into the technique Xia Nan was learning now.

According to Forgan, the ideal way to train was in snow deep enough to reach the knees.

Naturally, that was impossible here in the middle of the continent.

So they made do with what they had.

There was also one more important condition.

Before every training session, Xia Nan needed Forgan’s help.

The barbarian would release a strange cold energy into his body.

It followed the lines of his muscles and tendons, sinking deep inside.

Once Xia Nan trained [Fang Hunt] to Novice, he would no longer need it.

As for how that worked…

Xia Nan had no idea.

In his previous life, he had seen professional athletes use ice baths.

But those came after intense training.

They were used to reduce soreness and speed recovery.

This was completely different.

Xia Nan had no instruments.

No laboratory.

No relevant expertise.

He was not some professor who could take measurements and write a paper on the subject.

Being able to understand the general direction of his own training was already good enough.

Beyond that…

[It’s a fantasy world.]

[Don’t overthink it.]

“Hah…”

Xia Nan exhaled slowly.

A stream of white mist poured from his mouth.

Tiny specks of ice glittered inside it.

He pressed a hand against his thigh, then his abdomen.

The temperature of his skin had returned to normal.

The cold energy was gone.

Continuing now would bring very little benefit.

Time to head back.

He turned toward the camp.

Forgan needed to recharge him again.

…

…

Cold wind screamed across a field of snow.

Ice crystals struck exposed skin like countless tiny blades.

A man’s rough, hardened flesh was cut again and again beneath the storm.

Between jagged rocks, a dying fire glimmered weakly.

Charred wood had nearly burned away.

Blackened pine resin crumbled into ash and mixed with the snow.

A pale shard of broken bone protruded through a thick fur coat.

Blood filled the man’s mouth.

Hot.

Metallic.

Heavy with the taste of rust.

“They are still here.”

A fallen totem lay wrapped in thorns.

Within the dim white light, an old and illusory figure slowly took shape above it.

“Bite through the frost, and death will not come.”

“Chieftain…”

The rough-looking man sat slumped in a pool of blood.

His voice was hoarse.

His wolfskin cloak had already been soaked red.

“Let ash be reborn as snow. The ancestral spirits will watch over you from above the field of steles, my child.”

Withered fingers, threaded with growing strands of fungus, reached toward him.

They passed through his fur coat like hazy light beneath winter clouds.

Then touched his chest.

“Live on.”

“Carry the name of the Frostthroat Clan.”

“Forgan.”

…

Crack!

A burning branch burst apart in the campfire.

Forgan’s ice-blue eyes shifted.

Barely.

He raised his head.

At the edge of the campsite, the bushes shook.

A young man with two swords on his back was fighting his way free of a stubborn tangle of thorns and branches.

Xia Nan finally emerged.

He adjusted the cloth pouch at his waist, greeted Forgan, and walked toward the fire.

The barbarian looked exactly as he always did.

Still.

Silent.

Firelight reflected in his eyes.

He sat beside the flames like a block of ice that had somehow refused to melt.

After two days together, Xia Nan had developed a rough impression of the powerful high-level class holder.

And honestly, if not for the unmistakably tribal hide clothing and a surname like Frostthroat, Xia Nan would never have guessed Forgan was a barbarian.

Whether people spoke of the barbarian tribes themselves or of the [Barbarian] class that drew strength from Rage and nature, the same words tended to appear.

Reckless.

Blunt.

Rough.

Wild.

Forgan did not fit that image at all.

If anything, he felt like a raging fire trapped beneath a glacier.

Every trace of heat was buried beneath cold restraint.

Every surge of fury held under ice.

But if the day ever came when that fire burned hot enough to melt through the shell…

The anger beneath it would probably be enough to melt metal and stone.

“Finished?”

Xia Nan blinked.

Forgan had actually started a conversation.

He quickly swallowed the hot water in his mouth, took a deep breath, and exhaled.

A few tiny ice crystals still floated in the white mist.

“Yeah. Used it all up.”

Silence.

Xia Nan waited.

Nothing.

Of course.

He should have expected that.

Forgan was the one who had spoken first, yet the moment Xia Nan answered, the conversation died.

It was awkward.

But after two days, Xia Nan had mostly gotten used to it.

Forgan was not ignoring him.

He was not pretending not to hear.

This was simply how the man was.

In fact, whenever Xia Nan asked about [Fang Hunt], Forgan taught him carefully.

He did not always explain things in words.

Sometimes he barely explained anything at all.

But by demonstration, correction, or simply forcing Xia Nan to repeat a movement until he found the problem himself, Forgan usually led him to the answer.

Calm.

Patient.

Taciturn.

All the fury associated with barbarians seemed sealed beneath the cold radiating from him.

Xia Nan had trained hard around the camp for the entire day and wanted a short rest before asking Forgan to replenish the cold energy again.

So he drew the Decapitating Longsword and began maintaining the blade.

After a moment, he asked, “You saw my [Spinning Slash] before… Do you know which class it belongs to?”

This question had been bothering him for a long time.

On the Aifala Continent, gaining a class level required three combat techniques tied to the same class.

One of those techniques had to be trained to Mastery.

Thanks to the foundation left by his predecessor and whatever assistance the System Panel might be giving him, Xia Nan had already raised [Spinning Slash] to max level.

That meant he only needed two more qualifying techniques.

In theory, he was close.

In practice, there was a problem.

He still did not know what class [Spinning Slash] belonged to.

If he guessed wrong when choosing his next techniques, everything could fall apart.

Forgan was clearly far more experienced than an ordinary class holder.

If anyone Xia Nan currently knew could answer the question, it should be him.

Forgan shook his head.

“Hard.”

That was not the answer Xia Nan wanted.

But Forgan had a reason.

The number of combat techniques in this world was greater than the number of snowflakes in an ice storm.

Even the human Legends standing at the peak of the world could not possibly recognize every technique and identify its classification.

This was especially true for common classes like [Warrior] and [Rogue].

There were simply too many techniques associated with them.

The Adventurers’ Association itself continued recording and updating new combat techniques every year.

And even the Association did not maintain identical lists everywhere.

Regional differences mattered.

The Adventurers’ Association in Barracuda Bay, for example, collected many techniques suited to underwater combat and ranged attacks.

Rockshadow City’s branch operated in the Underdark, so its records contained far more techniques suited to narrow tunnels and confined spaces.

With that much variation, Forgan could only judge [Spinning Slash] by its visible characteristics.

It was a close-combat technique.

It belonged to some base class.

Beyond that?

Hard to say.

Xia Nan could not hide his disappointment.

Forgan looked at him.

Then at the sky.

A moment later, the barbarian stood.

Without explanation, he turned and walked out of camp.

“Follow.”

Xia Nan immediately put his things away and went after him.

…

[Fang Hunt].

The technique had originated among highland tribes.

But it did not rely on Rage, the core power of the [Barbarian] class.

At its foundation, [Fang Hunt] was pure physical technique.

A product of harsh terrain, harsh weather, and generations of people learning how to survive them.

Because of that, its classification overlapped.

Like two circles crossing.

[Fang Hunt] belonged to both:

[Warrior].

And [Barbarian].

That was one reason Forgan had been willing to teach it to Xia Nan despite not knowing where [Spinning Slash] belonged.

But there was another reason.

A more important one.

The reason Forgan did not think Xia Nan needed to worry too much about choosing the wrong path and having to start over.

Crack.

Xia Nan’s boot snapped a fallen branch lying in the meadow.

He stopped.

Then stared.

A familiar stench drifted toward him.

Ahead stood another crude goblin cave.

The corner of Xia Nan’s mouth twitched.

“Again?”

He was not actually opposed to it.

He had spent two days practicing [Fang Hunt] against empty air.

The basic mechanics were already taking shape.

Knowing Forgan’s methods, actual combat was the obvious next step.

Using battle to push the technique toward Proficient made sense.

Forgan’s time was limited.

A more aggressive training pace was understandable.

Still…

What happened next was completely different from their previous visit to a goblin lair.

Forgan did not suppress his aura.

He let the overwhelming pressure of a high-level class holder pour freely into the surroundings.

Then, instead of hanging back and letting Xia Nan enter first, he walked straight toward the cave.

Xia Nan followed.

They had barely entered the passage when terrified goblin shrieks erupted from deeper inside.

The creatures had sensed them.

Or rather…

They had sensed Forgan.

Then came the howl.

Awooooo!

The sound rolled through the tunnel.

Cold wind followed.

Every hair on Xia Nan’s body stood on end.

The goblin shrieks vanished almost instantly.

Swallowed.

Silenced.

When Xia Nan and Forgan entered the wider chamber at the heart of the cave, Xia Nan stopped dead.

Nearly thirty goblins were sprawled across the ground.

Eyes rolled back.

Bodies limp.

Unconscious.

Only one creature remained awake.

A young bugbear.

It had backed itself into a corner.

Both hands clutched a spiked mace.

Its entire body trembled.

Xia Nan stared at it with a strange expression.

A bugbear.

A vicious monster.

A creature that ate raw flesh and had killed who knew how many low-level adventurers.

And Xia Nan could see fear written plainly across its face.

Deep fear.

Forgan stopped.

He bent down and picked up a wooden club lying beside one of the unconscious goblins.

Frost spread over its surface.

Then he casually tossed it.

Boom!

Ice crystals and fragments of stone exploded across the cave wall.

The wooden club buried itself deep in the rock.

The bugbear’s right hand dropped to the ground.

Still holding its weapon.

Severed cleanly at the wrist.

The bugbear had suffered no other injury.

Forgan’s control had been exact.

He had even sealed the wound with frost, preventing excessive blood loss.

Very considerate.

After all, Xia Nan’s training partner needed to remain combat-capable.

Forgan looked at him.

“Go.”