Just as Sif's cheeks flushed crimson and her ears burned, and she was hurriedly searching for an excuse to explain something, a knock came from the door.

"Report, my lord, the chef has arrived," a knight guardian said, pushing the door open.

Louis turned back and casually said, "Let him in."

Before long, a chef wearing an apron gingerly walked in with a wooden tray: "The rabbit soup is here! It's been stewing for four hours."

This was the rabbit soup Louis had instructed him to stew the night before.

Sif glanced over and immediately perceived that this bowl of soup was out of the ordinary—it looked expensive.

"Put it on the table," Louis just casually commanded, then turned to the guardian and said, "Go find Barnes and have him bring Weir over."

"Yes, my lord," the guardian bowed and left.

Once the room was quiet again, he turned and glanced at Sif, as if suddenly remembering.

"Just now... What were you going to say?"

Sif was once more ignited entirely like a torch, her face instantly turning even redder.

"N-no, nothing!" she quickly lowered her head, her voice so fast it was almost inaudible.

Louis nodded, not thinking much of it, and began immersing himself in the documents on the table.

He read earnestly, his brow furrowed, completely unconcerned with their previous conversation.

Sif finally breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the edge of the table and taking a step back, feeling her heartbeat finally slow down.

Yet the redness on her ear tips didn't fade easily.

Not long after, footsteps were heard outside the door.

"Report, my lord, Barnes is here."

Soon the door was pushed open, and an old knight stepped into the room, followed by an adolescent boy.

"My lord, as soon as you asked me to bring someone over, I knew it must be to hear about this lad's performance."

Barnes grinned, patting the shoulder of the youth beside him: "This child, Weir, is the most talented apprentice knight I've ever trained.

I've served as a knight instructor for over ten years in the Calvin family, teaching more than two hundred students— I've seen those with talent, the diligent ones, and those from noble birth, but never! Have I met anyone like him."

He lowered his voice, as if discussing some forbidden heavenly secret.

"Weir has, within two months, transformed from a kid who hadn't awakened his bloodline to a high-tier apprentice knight!

This isn't due to divine favor nor a surplus of resources, but purely some talent I still can't perceive and a certain drive.

Several times I've patrolled at night and found him practicing alone with a training sword, covered in injuries yet still training, and the next day standing at the forefront of the lineup."

The young boy listened to his teacher's praise without arrogance, becoming even more reserved.

He stepped forward silently, knelt on one knee, and spoke with almost reverent respect: "My lord Louis."

He raised his head, the fervor in his eyes almost blinding, containing the gaze of faith, gratitude etched into his bones and blood.

Weir knew it was this noble youth before him who bought him and his mother from the slavers, abolished their slave status, extracted them from the mire of fate, and promised them a future.

From that moment on, Louis became the sole sun in his heart.

If enemies approached, he would deflect every blade, every arrow for this lord.

Louis quietly watched Weir kneeling on the ground.

His expression scarcely changed, only nodding, his gaze calm.

Yet he was truly shocked.

This quickly to high-tier apprentice? It's only been two months...

He knew long ago Weir was a "Talent Monster," but witnessing this experience bar rapidly flash forward in green light left him slightly dazed.

However, beyond talent, what caught Louis's attention was Weir's gaze.

That fervor, reverence, even a touch of near-faith.

Since coming to the Northern Territory, he'd gradually become accustomed to such looks.

Those originally destitute natives, fleeing slaves, refugees struggling to survive amidst rubble...

They placed their hopes on him, responding to his goodwill in the most simple, direct manner, willing to give their all for him, even their lives.

Louis gazed at Weir and silently made a judgment in his heart: loyalty... Hmm, probably above ninety, evidently a grateful person.

"Stand up," Louis said, his tone flat.

But Weir, as if receiving some sort of oracle, stood with his spine straight, his whole being seemingly aglow.

"The rabbit soup, it's quite nourishing," Louis casually pointed to the wooden bowl on the table, speaking to Weir, "You drink it."

The soup's color was a near icy-blue, emitting a faint glow like a lake under the Northern Territory night sky, gently rippling with chill.

Barnes glanced over, hesitantly moving closer for a look.

"T-this... my lord, this is...?"

His voice quivered, as if doubting his own eyes.

"Frost-Bearded Tundra Rabbit," Louis answered, flipping through documents, his tone breezy.

"T-t-t... It's not appropriate!" Barnes stammered immediately, "This thing, in an auction house, would fetch at least several thousand Gold Coins! How could we let Weir drink it?"

"What's inappropriate about it," Louis didn't look up, "Just make sure he properly thanks me."

"You kid, why are you still standing around? Hurry and thank the lord!" Barnes turned back and smacked Weir, nearly knocking him to his knees, "This is a treasure even I dream of drinking!"

Weir finally reacted, immediately dropping to his knees with a "thud."

"Thank you, my lord! Thank you, my lord! Thank you..." He kowtowed more than ten times in a row, his forehead turning red.

Louis then raised his hand to help him up.

"This stuff is good, but more importantly, you need to show the skill that's worthy of this soup in the future."

Weir raised his head, his tears already unstoppable, nodding as he cried: "My lord! I will definitely achieve it!"

Sif at the side widened her eyes.

She looked at the rabbit soup, then at Weir's excited appearance, and finally at the calm Louis, her face full of astonishment.

She never imagined Louis would share such a precious thing with a youth of humble background.

"Enough chatter," Louis pushed the bowl forward, "Drink while it's hot."

"Yes!"

Weir carefully cupped the wooden bowl, cautiously bringing it to his lips for a deep sip.

Cool yet slightly sweet, as if his entire insides were cleansed by snow water, immediately followed by an intense heat exploding in his chest!

"Um!" His body jolted, pain and surprise flashing in his eyes, nearly losing grip of the bowl.

It felt as if something within him suddenly ignited.

A fiery energy rose from his abdomen, rushing through his veins, swiftly surging towards his limbs!

"Don't move!" Barnes urgently said, "Don't move! Sit cross-legged, close your eyes, follow the breathing method I taught you, make sure to steady your breath, don't let the Fighting Energy rampage!"

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