Panlong's Worton

Chapter 11 Dragonblood Warrior

Three years passed faster than Wharton had imagined.

The daily routine was the same: early morning training, learning characters and history in the morning, meditation and physical exercise in the afternoon, and review and summary in the evening. The numbers on the panel grew slowly but steadily, like sand in an hourglass, accumulating grain by grain until one day when you looked back, it had piled up into a small mountain.

[Basic physical fitness proficiency: 42.7%]

Strength Increase: +186%

Endurance increase: +172%

[Coordination: +155%]

Total Fire Magic Power: 3.2 Standard Units

Purity: High

[The requirements for casting a level one spell have been met. It is recommended to learn specific spell models after the age of six.]

[Dragon Bloodline Activity: Significantly Increased]

[Current effect: Recovery speed +38%, Fatigue accumulation -31%, Basal metabolic rate +24%]

On the morning of his sixth birthday, Walton finished his training as usual, took a shower, and changed into new clothes—prepared by Ciri: a linen shirt and dark trousers, the material of which was ordinary, but the stitching was dense.

When I went downstairs, Hogg was already in the dining room. On the table was a small plate of honey cake with six thin candles.

"Happy birthday," Hogg said.

Wharton sat down: "Thank you, Father."

Ciri brought in breakfast, today with fried eggs and smoked meat. Wharton ate quietly, as did Hogg, neither of them saying much. But there was a tension in the air, like the silence before a bowstring is fully drawn.

After the meal, Hogg put down his knife and fork: "Let's go to the ancestral hall."

What was bound to happen has happened.

Wharton got up and followed. As they walked down the hallway, he saw Ciri standing in the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on her apron, her eyes filled with both worry and anticipation.

The ancestral hall was a solitary old building located at the deepest part of the mansion. The heavy wooden doors creaked dully as they were pushed open. The interior was dimly lit, with only a few tall windows letting in daylight that illuminated the dust floating in the air.

Directly in front of me were rows of memorial tablets, made of black wood, stacked layer upon layer, extending upwards, the top few already blurred and indistinct. The air was filled with the smell of old wood and incense ash.

Hogg walked to the memorial tablet, stood there for a moment, and then turned to Wharton: "Three years ago, your brother was tested for bloodline here. Today it's your turn."

Walton nodded. He knew the procedure—dragon's blood needle, prick the finger, and observe the color change.

"Before that, there are some things you need to know." Hogg pointed to the memorial tablets. "The Baruch family has a history of five thousand years. The three at the very top are the family's first Dragonblood Warriors."

He read them aloud one by one: "Baruch, first generation, slayed the Frost Dragon, the Black Dragon, and the Hydra King. Ryan Baruch, second generation, subdued the Holy Land Golden Dragon and became a Dragon Knight. Hazeld Baruch, third generation, defeated the Holy Land's magical beast, the Blood-Eyed Mane Lion."

Each name carried weight, crashing into the silent air of the ancestral hall.

Walton looked up at the memorial tablets. In the original story, these were just background settings, but standing here now, smelling the incense ash and looking at his father's tense profile, he truly felt the weight of the word "inheritance" for the first time.

"The Dragonblood Warrior bloodline is very special," Hogg continued. "Those with a high concentration can cultivate the 'Dragonblood Codex' and transform into Dragonblood Warriors, whose strength is comparable to that of a Saint. Those with insufficient concentration can still strengthen their bodies through their bloodline and follow the path of an ordinary warrior, but their potential is limited."

He paused for a moment, then said, "When your brother tested it, the concentration was not high enough."

Wharton knew. Linley actually had enough, but he needed dragon blood to activate it, but he couldn't say that.

"You might not be enough," Hogg said, looking at him. "In over a thousand years, the family has only produced two Dragonblood Warriors. The most recent one was thirteen hundred years ago. The chances are slim."

"I understand," Walton said.

Hogg looked at him for a few seconds, then turned and walked towards the secret chamber behind the memorial tablet. When he came out, he was carrying a wooden box. He opened it and found a long, transparent needle, about twenty centimeters long, as thin as a hair, almost invisible in the dim light.

"Dragon Blood Needle," Hogg said. "Prick your finger, and if the blood concentration is high enough, the needle will absorb dragon blood factors from the blood and turn red. The darker the color, the higher the concentration."

Walton extended his right hand. His fingers trembled slightly, but he gripped it tightly to steady himself.

Hogger picked up the Dragonblood Needle, its tip gleaming coldly in the light. He grasped Wharton's index finger, moving swiftly—the needle pierced the skin, a slight sting, then it was pulled out.

Wharton looked at the needle.

Inside the transparent needle, a thin line of blood spread along the needle core. At first, it was slow, like a drop of water crawling on glass. Then the speed suddenly increased, the blood line expanded and spread, and in the blink of an eye, the entire needle turned dark red, almost black, like a red-hot iron skewer in the dimly lit ancestral hall.

Hogg's hand froze.

He stared at the needle, his eyes unblinking, his breath catching in his throat. A few seconds later, he looked up at Walton abruptly, then down at the needle, then up again—his expression a mix of shock, elation, and disbelief, as if struck by lightning.

"This..." Hogg's throat tightened, his voice hoarse, "This is..."

Walton looked at him calmly: "Is that enough?"

Hogg didn't answer. He put down the needle, grabbed Walton's shoulders with both hands, and gripped them so tightly they hurt. He stared at Walton's face, as if trying to find some evidence in the face of a six-year-old child.

"You…" Hogg gasped for breath, "Do you know what this means?"

"This means I can cultivate the Dragon Blood Codex and become a Dragon Blood Warrior."

"Yes!" Hogg's voice rose, echoing in the empty ancestral hall, "which means that the Baruch family will produce another Dragonblood Warrior in thirteen hundred years!"

He released Walton, turned to face the memorial tablets, his shoulders trembling. Walton saw him raise his hand to wipe his face, the movement quick, but a glint of water flashed between his fingers.

It took Hogg a while to calm down. He turned around, his expression returning to its usual seriousness, but the fire in his eyes remained undisguised.

"From today onwards, your training will be adjusted," he said. "Regular training isn't enough for Dragonblood Warriors; you need specialized training methods. I'll teach you, but..."

He paused. Wharton knew what came after "but"—money.

The training of Dragonblood Warriors requires a large amount of nutritional supplements, medicinal aids, and specialized training equipment. All of these cost money. And the Baruch family's financial situation has not improved much in the past three years.

"I'll figure out the money," Hogg said. "You can continue training according to the current plan. Once I've raised enough money, I'll send you to the Warrior Academy of the O'Brien Empire—it has the best warrior training system there."

Walton nodded. That was the arrangement in the original story: Hogg would sell his possessions to send Walton to the O'Brien Empire, and then Linley would send money back to help in the emergency.

"Father," Walton began, "if we don't have enough money, I can go a few years later."

"No," Hogg said firmly. "Six to twelve years old is a crucial period for building a foundation; we can't afford to delay it." He glanced at Wharton. "Don't tell anyone about this, especially not your brother."

Why?

"He..." Hogg chose his words carefully, "He'll be happy for you, but he'll also be sad. He failed the same test, but you passed. Even though he's the older brother, there's always a sense of loss in his heart."

Wharton understood. Linley hadn't actually experienced a decline—he later achieved greater success as a wizard. But Linley didn't know this yet, and Hogg's concerns were valid.

"I understand," Walton said.

Hogg put away the Dragonblood Needle and returned the wooden box to the secret chamber. When he came out, he had a thin booklet in his hand; the paper was yellowed and the edges were worn.

"A copy of the first two levels of the Dragon Blood Codex," Hogg handed it over. "The original is too precious to bring out. You can study the theory first, and start practicing once your body is ready."

Wharton took the booklet. It was light, but felt heavy in his hand.

As they left the ancestral hall, the sunlight was blinding. Wharton squinted, hearing Hogg take a deep breath and slowly exhale behind him.

Ciri, who was waiting at the corner of the corridor, immediately went to greet them as soon as she saw them come out: "Master, how is Young Master Wharton?"

Hogg didn't speak, he just nodded.

Ciri froze for a moment, then covered her mouth, her eyes instantly reddening: "Really... really did it?"

"All done," Hogg said. "Go prepare lunch. We'll have an extra dish today."

"Okay!" Ciri wiped her eyes, turned around and walked quickly toward the kitchen, her steps light as if she were a different person.

Lunch was plentiful. There was stewed meat, roast chicken, fried fish, and a dish of fresh fruit that he usually couldn't afford to buy. Hogg even opened a bottle of wine, filled his own glass, and poured a small glass for Wharton as well.

"We're making an exception today," Hogg said. "To celebrate."

Walton took a sip and still found it bitter, but he refrained from making a face.

During the meal, Hogg talked a bit more, recounting some family history—not the glorious achievements on the memorial tablets, but more trivial things: an ancestor who liked to collect stones, an ancestor who married a commoner, and an ancestor who never left Wushan Town in his entire life.

Wharton listened quietly. These were details not found in the original work, details unique to this world.

After dinner, Hogg went to his study, saying he needed to settle accounts. Wharton returned to his room and opened the "Dragonblood Codex".

The handwriting is old, indicating it was handwritten, with some ink smudges. The content is divided into two parts: a theoretical section and a cultivation section. The theoretical section explains the characteristics of the dragon bloodline, the conditions for awakening, and the principles of transformation; the cultivation section covers specific breathing techniques, movement instructions, and medicinal bath recipes.

Wharton quickly scanned it, and a prompt immediately popped up on the panel:

[Acquired Inherited Knowledge: The Dragon Blood Codex (Incomplete Manuscript)]

[Theoretical Comprehension Level: Under Preliminary Analysis]

[Prerequisites for cultivation: Basic physical condition meets the requirements (currently met), Bloodline concentration meets the requirements (currently met), Auxiliary medicinal materials (not yet met)]

The list of medicinal herbs included more than a dozen items: Dragon Blood Grass, Iron Bone Flower, Body Tempering Root... all names he had never heard of before, with approximate prices listed after them—the cheapest one cost several tens of gold coins per serving.

Money is indeed a problem.

Wharton closed the booklet and walked to the window. The old houses in the backyard stood silently in the sunlight; no other animals had appeared there since Bebe left. Three years had passed. Linley should be a fourth-level mage by now at Ernst Academy, right? He received letters every month, talking about his life at the academy, his progress in magic, and occasionally mentioning what trouble Bebe had gotten into.

Over the next month, Wharton's pace of life changed.

The morning training changed from basic physical fitness to a set of twelve guiding exercises from the "Dragon Blood Codex," combined with a special breathing method. The movements look simple, but they are extremely physically demanding. After completing a set, your whole body feels like it has been dismantled.

The panel records the changes:

[Dragonblood Warrior Basic Guidance Technique]

[Proficiency: 0.5% (First Practice)]

[Effect: Mildly stimulates blood circulation and promotes energy absorption by the body]

[Note: This needs to be combined with a highly nutritious diet, otherwise it may damage the foundation of health.]

The nutrition was indeed inadequate. The Baruch family's food was better than that of ordinary commoners, but it was far from enough for the training needs of a Dragonblood Warrior. Wharton could feel a hollow hunger deep within his body after each training session, not from his stomach, but from a cellular-level deficiency.

Hogg clearly realized it too. He'd been going to town more often lately, and each time he returned looking unwell. Wharton overheard him and Ciri talking quietly in the kitchen:

"...How much did Philip offer for that set of silverware?"

"Eight hundred gold coins. Master, those were left by the old lady..."

"Sold."

"Can……"

"Wharton's business is more important."

Wharton walked away silently. He knew Hogg was selling off his assets, and he also knew that in the original story, the family's finances would be at their lowest point during this period, until Linley sent money back.

But when will Linley send the money? In the original story, it's shortly after the Wharton test, but the timeline has subtly changed due to his own time travel—for example, he started his systematic training earlier and has a deeper theoretical understanding of the Dragonblood Warriors. Will these butterfly effects affect Linley's progress?

Another week passed, and Walton clearly felt his stamina failing during training. He felt dizzy after reaching the eighth movement of the guided exercises and had to stop to rest. A warning popped up on the panel:

[Severe energy deficiency]

[Recommendation: Immediately consume high-calorie food and suspend high-intensity training until the body recovers]

Otherwise, it may lead to decreased blood vessel activity.

That evening, Wharton went to see Hogg.

In the study, Hogg frowned at a stack of account books. In the candlelight, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were much deeper than they had been three years ago.

"Father." Walton stood in the doorway.

Hogg looked up: "What's wrong?"

"Training can be reduced," Walton said directly. "I'm not getting enough nutrition right now, so training too much will only hurt my body."

Hogg was silent for a moment, then put down his pen. "I know. Wait a few more days, until that batch of silverware is sold, and the money will be available."

"What if they can't be sold?"

"It will be sold," Hogg said steadily. "There's always a way."

Wharton didn't ask any more questions. He knew Hogg was putting on a brave face, just like in the original story, willing to sell off all the family property for the sake of his children's future.

Three more days passed. At lunchtime, the dishes Ciri served were noticeably simpler—only stew and dark bread, with very little meat. She avoided eye contact, not daring to look at Hogg and Wharton.

After dinner, Hogg went out again. Wharton returned to his room to continue reading the theoretical part of the Dragonblood Codex, trying to find ways to save money between the lines—were there any alternative herbs? Were there any materials that could be gathered by himself?

No. The Dragonblood Warrior's training system is mature but expensive, with each step requiring significant resources.

In the evening, the sound of horses' hooves could be heard outside.

Walton went to the window and saw Hillman jump down from his horse, travel-worn but with a smile on his face. He strode into the main house, and soon Hogg's voice came from downstairs—surprise, then ecstasy.

When Walton came downstairs, he saw Hogg holding a dark blue card with magical patterns on its surface that were faintly glowing.

Magic Crystal Card.

"Young Master Linley won it in the academy competition," Hillman explained to Walton. "It's a total of nine thousand nine hundred gold coins, all deposited in here. He asked me to bring it back for Young Master Walton's use."

Hogg stared at the card, his hands trembling. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but nothing came out. Finally, he just patted Hillman's shoulder forcefully, turned, and walked unsteadily towards the study.

Ciri wiped away tears, muttering, "This child...this child..."

Walton stared at the magic crystal card. Its blue glow stood out in the dimly lit living room, like a small patch of deep sea.

Lin Lei sent the money back. The timing was perfect, not a penny off.

In the original story, this was a turning point for the family, and it remains so now. With the economic crisis resolved, Wharton can go to the O'Brien Empire, and Linley can continue his training at Ernst Academy in peace.

Everything is back on track—or rather, on a new track.

During dinner, Hogg regained his spirits and even brought up the plan to send Wharton to the O'Brien Empire: "I've already inquired. The Empire's highest warrior academy, 'O'Brien Academy,' has a special warrior training program. The tuition is five thousand gold coins a year, and with living expenses and material costs, the money Linley sent should last for two years."

"And what about two years from now?" Wharton asked.

"You should have achieved something in two years," Hogg said. "The academy offers subsidies to gifted students, and if you perform well, your subsequent fees can be reduced or waived."

Wharton nodded. This arrangement is the same as in the original book.

"When are we leaving?" Ciri asked.

"Next month," Hogg said. "The O'Brien Empire is to the north; it takes more than a month to get there. We need to get there before school starts."

One month. Wharton did the math in his head; that would be enough time for him to thoroughly understand the theories of the Dragon Blood Codex and get his physical condition to its peak.

After dinner, Hogg asked Wharton to go to his study. He took a letter from a drawer; the handwriting on the envelope was neat and in Linley's handwriting.

"It was written to you by your brother," Hogg handed it to you.

Wharton opened the letter. It was short; Linley used simple words to describe school life, how Bebe had grown a bit more, and the progress of his magical training. The last paragraph read:

"Walton, I heard your bloodline concentration has reached the required level, that's great. Train hard, don't be afraid of hardship. Don't worry about money, I'll keep earning it. Once we're both stronger, let's retrieve the family's sword together."

The signature reads "Brother Lin Lei".

Wharton folded the letter and put it back in the envelope. Hogg looked at him: "Your brother cares about you."

"I know."

"When you go to the O'Brien Empire, write back often." Hog paused. "Write to your brother too. He'll miss home being all alone out there."

"Um."

It was completely dark when he left the study. Wharton returned to his room, sat down in the dark without turning on the light.

The panel unfolded before him, displaying the various data points quietly. He stared at it for a long time, then closed the panel and lay down on the bed.

In a month, I will leave Wushan Town for a completely unfamiliar empire and enter a completely unfamiliar academy. At six years old, which would have been elementary school age in my previous life, I will have to start living independently here.

It would be a lie to say I'm not afraid. But I'm mostly looking forward to it.