The Cornflower Witch Chapter 62

Chapter 62

The Youth of the Past

Two days later, Madame Faran returned from her trip.

“Have you decided to go to the Hidden Grove?” The blonde noblewoman pressed her hand lightly on the armrest, tapping it occasionally, lost in thought.

“Actually, I’ve traveled to that place myself, but not in Regas Duchy; it was on the Merchant City Union side.” She recalled briefly.

“The competition there is very fierce, with talented and promising individuals selected from all over.”

“If you don’t have any background or foundation, going there is indeed the best choice, though there are certain dangers.”

“Originally, I wanted you to stay with me for a while longer. In two more years, I could directly recommend you to those organizations, without having to go through the Hidden Grove’s selection assessment.”

“That path would be much easier and safer,” she looked up at the young girl in front of her.

“But since you want to venture out on your own, I won’t stop you. In fact, this will also provide more training.”

“As the ancient proverb says, ‘tough flowers cannot be cultivated in warm rooms.’ One must experience some hardship to grow.” Hearing this, Madame Faran remembered something.

“Little Lia, do you like growing flowers?” she suddenly asked another question.

“Yes, because the process fills me with anticipation and hope.”

“That’s an interesting way of putting it, though most people cultivate plants for the final harvest.”

“Some care about the results, some care about the process. While one cannot judge which is superior, however…” Her expression became slightly solemn.

“Lia, the result is only a fleeting moment, and most of your time will be spent in waiting.”

“If you cannot enjoy this waiting process, then you will become miserable, because waiting is the most boring thing. Facing all sorts of unknowns, speculating about future developments, feeling anxious and uneasy about the outcome.”

“This anxiety and misery will eventually slowly consume your talent, your spirit, and the serene state of mind you had when you first started.”

“I understand, Madame,” she realized that Madame Faran was imparting experiences and lessons that needed to be constantly remembered.

“It’s so pleasant to talk to a smart child.” Madame Faran nodded slightly, seeing that Hylial had taken it to heart.

“Since you’ve decided to compete for a spot next year, then as your guide on the path of a Gardener, I must quickly teach you some real skills.”

“Not only the ‘Branch Combing Method’ and the ‘Gardening Apprentice’ profession, but also some methods for Gardeners to protect themselves in the face of danger.”

“If you truly want to enter the Hidden Grove, these methods are almost mandatory; otherwise, even if you go, you’ll find it difficult to adapt to that environment,” she thought of something.

“Starting tomorrow, I’ll have Lining teach you some practical combat skills. Additionally, some of my early notes and the secret Gardener’s heritage texts I obtained will be gradually passed on to you.”

“Even if you can’t learn everything from them now, you will naturally master them once your rank is high enough.”

“Thank you, Madame.” Hylial too became eager and curious.

…

Since the day they discussed their future, everyone had become busy in their own ways. Kaelen was diligently practicing the Breathing Method, aiming to reach the third stage this month as well.

In fact, the Breathing Method is a peculiar ability. If your companions and comrades have reached a higher stage of the Breathing Method, even if you haven’t broken through yet, you will gradually synchronize under the influence of their subtle training and peculiar breathing rhythms, and then slowly come to understand the true essence of its rhythm.

This makes breakthroughs relatively easier.

Historically, there have been many similar incidents. For example, in the early days of the Regas Duchy, during its expansion, almost every soldier in Regard’s legion practiced the Breathing Method. The number of ‘Level 3 – Castle’ Knights born during that period was countless, which is why Regard Bouvilly was revered as the ‘Knight King.’ Such a flourishing period, with its array of heroes, is often recorded in history as the golden age of a nation’s founding.

Their combat training and learning were slowly reaching a bottleneck. At this point, the students no longer went to the training ground every day but arranged their time individually.

“Brother Jero!”

In the afternoon, Mick returned to the familiar small courtyard in the south of the city, shouting loudly.

“Oh, it’s Mick returning.” The others saw him and waved with smiles.

“You’ve changed a lot recently, your body has become much stronger and more solid.” Someone came over and punched him, testing his muscles.

“Hehe.” Facing these old acquaintances and seniors, Mick rubbed his head, feeling as if he had become that green youth again, just starting out in adventure.

“I’ve indeed learned a lot during this time,” he answered with a touch of emotion, then looked around.

“Where’s Brother Jero?”

“Him? He’s resting in his room right now.” At this, the expressions of a few team members became somewhat subtle.

Noticing the strange atmosphere, Mick didn’t ask further but quickly walked to the room in the courtyard, pushed open the simple wooden door, and entered.

The coarse cloth curtains in the room were tightly drawn, with a few rays of light slicing through the rips and gaps in the curtain. Numerous wine bottles lay overturned on the floor, and a resounding snore emanated from the bed.

Seeing that Jero was sleeping, Mick felt a bit relieved. He had thought something unexpected had happened.

Picking up the wine bottles one by one from the floor and placing them in the wooden crate, Mick pulled a small stool into the room and sat down in front of the snoring Jero.

“Brother Jero, I’ve been promoted to the first rank.” Mick’s voice was low, probably only audible to the two of them in the room.

In the past, he would have loudly announced it, making everyone envious, but now, he had become much more composed and had met many more formidable individuals, so he no longer considered a “first rank” promotion an astonishing achievement.

Unfortunately, the person in the room heard none of it and continued to snore.

Mick shook his head helplessly at this, feeling a sense of false joy. He stood up and surveyed the dilapidated room, recalling the first time he came here.

He came from a village far from Burntstone City, located on a main thoroughfare. The village inn was bustling every season, and his mother was a helper there.

An ordinary woman, she gradually became tough and practical from dealing with the oily guests who came and went every day. She lacked the tender and kind motherly demeanor Mick had imagined; she barely paid attention to Mick, merely ensuring the child didn’t starve to death.

As he grew older, Mick began looking for work, initially doing odd jobs in the village like other children.

The true turning point in his fate probably came the day Jero, with a group of companions, came to the village to complete a mission, dealing with the powerful wild beasts that plagued the area.

He accidentally came into contact with the Breathing Method and, after several days, completed his first training cycle. Jero, recognizing his promising talent, discussed it with Mick’s mother and brought him out of the village.

It had been nearly two years since he left the village. Not only had he grown taller, but his physique had significantly changed, and more importantly, he was no longer as aimless as before.

Knowledge truly changes people, Mick looked at himself in the mirror, recalling the changes over the past few months.

After his reflections, he refocused his attention on Jero, ready to say goodbye and leave.

First, he straightened Jero’s sleeping body, then simply smoothed out the wrinkled and messy bedsheets. At this moment, Mick suddenly noticed something. He picked up the half-burnt, withered tobacco on the bed and sniffed it.

This was the scent of “Sun-Dazzling Grass”—indeed, roasted “Sun-Dazzling Grass.” Mick frowned slightly.

When this grass is roasted and lit, it emits a pungent smell that most people dislike. However, if one adapts to the smoke, it can provide a stimulating, intoxicating effect, capable of suppressing pain and alleviating anxiety.

Did Brother Jero also like this? He had never seen Jero use it before.

Perhaps it was to suppress his pain, Mick made an excuse for him, as Jero indeed had many old injuries.

But if one became addicted to this kind of thing, it certainly wouldn’t be good. Mick had seen addicts in the inn when he was a child; their spirits would wither completely, only to revive when sniffing “Sun-Dazzling Grass.”

With some worry, Mick tidied the room briefly and then left.

“I’ll be back in a few days to share my achievements with you, big brother,” he said to the sleeping Jero, then closed the door.

(End of this chapter)