"The God of Thieves…"

Jack stroked the silver-white dagger, which glowed faintly blue, a complex expression crossing his face. This dagger had come to him by chance, and it now held a powerful secret: a concentration of blue blood at 20%.

After secretly siphoning blue blood from Okogie, Charles, Freya, and Jenny, the dagger now held enough potency to turn even a branch family member into a prodigy. Jack intended this as a gift for his three-year-old son.

He was aware the Duke wouldn’t let him live if this was discovered. No noble outside the direct line was ever meant to reach over 20% blue blood concentration. But Jack had a plan. The Duke wouldn’t kill his son, and the boy would inherit the dagger’s potent blue blood, becoming a genius unmatched.

A hint of fanaticism flashed in Jack’s eyes before he carefully tucked the dagger away. Charles had written that he’d completed his hunt and would return today.

Training Charles would at least ease a bit of the guilt Jack felt. If it hadn’t been for this dagger, Charles could have reached an unprecedented 55% blue blood concentration—greater than even the Duke, the West family’s most celebrated genius in a century.

Jack saw in Charles a striking resemblance to himself and to the Duke when he was young.

What kind of prey would the little duke bring back?

"So, you took down two first-order extraordinaries on your own?" Jack stared at Charles, astonished. He kicked at the corpses to ensure they wouldn’t suddenly spring back to life.

"Yep, and this little rabbit here makes three," Charles added, holding up the cute, innocent-looking rabbit.

Jack eyed the rabbit with indifference, as it had been entirely overshadowed by the two human kills. A complicated expression played across his face as he stared at Charles’s young face.

“Charles, you’re the most gifted hunter I’ve ever met.”

He couldn’t help but compare. “Your brother Jeff brought me a snake and two frogs after twenty days, and your sister Freya managed three dead ants in a month. You’re truly exceptional!”

Charles nodded, slightly surprised. He knew he was capable, but he hadn’t realized Freya’s only haul was three ants.

Jack continued, “Since you completed your task, I’ll teach you the three core combat skills of wind warriors to improve your fighting ability. As for the advanced skills of a second-order wind knight, we’ll look at those once you gain finer control over the wind element.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Only three?" Charles frowned. What if none of these skills suited him? He’d heard some techniques required bizarre sacrifices, like tongue-cutting or castration.

“Don’t worry; these three are the best match for you,” Jack replied, sizing him up. “Pick one, train hard, and you’ll see results in a month.”

After a quick stretch, Jack removed his coat, revealing a muscular build. “Alright, the first skill—air step!”

With a powerful push off the ground, Jack leapt fifty meters away, landing with a dramatic cloud of dust. Charles could only catch a glimpse of Jack’s movement before the man’s figure turned hazy.

Jack returned with a stoic expression. “Mistake. Let’s try again.”

After a full day of demonstrations, Charles understood the mechanics of the air step: it allowed a fighter to channel all force into their calves, executing quick, powerful jumps that could instantly close or create distance from an opponent. Jack had recruited a retired soldier to help teach Charles the finer points of the technique.

Under the retired soldier’s guidance, the air step became second nature to Charles. The old soldier’s movements were smooth, silent, and precise, often leaving Charles unable to react in time. Charles put aside his initial disdain—though this soldier was a mere first-order wind warrior, Charles doubted he could last more than three moves against him.

Grateful to escape Jack’s stern gaze, Charles trained diligently under the old soldier’s watch.

In the evening, Charles enjoyed a hot bath under the careful service of Will, washing away the grime from the northern forest. Stretching out on his luxurious bed afterward, he savored the comforts of aristocratic life: fine rooms, admiring glances, and endless indulgences.

Recently, Freya had been keeping her distance, appearing only once in two months, which Charles had declined. Her habits were too much for him, and if not for his prior inability to resist, he would’ve ended their entanglement long ago. Still, he couldn't ignore the memory of her intense, resentful gaze.

Freya was the eldest daughter of the powerful Vincent family, one of the eight red-blooded noble families. Charles knew it would be risky to cross her, but studying with Jack provided him a temporary reprieve.

Still, he knew this situation wouldn’t last. Freya was a student at Violet College, and old students returned at a different time than new ones. But should she continue her dangerous games...

A cold glint flashed in Charles’s eyes. He wouldn’t hesitate to make her disappear if necessary. In a family like theirs, loyalty and trust were meaningless.

Even his brother, Lin, once friendly, now seemed suspicious. Charles couldn’t shake the feeling that Lin might be plotting against him, given that Charles posed a direct challenge to his duke’s title.

Other family members weren’t much better. Will was a cunning businessman, loyal only to Lin. Okogie had attempted multiple assassinations, and Freya had become a problem he would need to deal with.

Only Jenny remained neutral, with no apparent conflicts of interest. She could become a potential ally. As for Fiona, she was cold and distant—he had no interest in pursuing her favor.

After a long contemplation of his family’s tangled web of relationships, Charles sighed and burrowed into his quilt.