“Anna, my uncle is now a Level Five warrior and frequently joins hunting parties to slay magical beasts in the mountains. At the very least, having a familiar warrior around means you two can support each other, can’t you?”

“That works for me. I’m already a Level Three mage, continuing as a sparring partner feels out of place. I’ll need to take that step and join an intermediate hunting party sooner or later,” Anna said, placing her strange trust in Dick—after all, wasn’t he far more reliable than the hypocritical nobles?

“Well, I’ll stay out of this. I’m only a Level Two mage, still a sparring partner, and the nobles won’t bother targeting me intentionally,” Annie, also a mage with her own pride, was unwilling to be a burden to a powerful hunting team.

“Fine! Since you say the Zhao family isn’t too bad among the nobles, we’ll stick with them for now. The pay is pretty good, and I’m not ready to give it up just yet, haha!” Dick didn’t mind, as long as everything remained within reason. A Level Three warrior? Theoretically, a Level Two mage going against a Level Three warrior was still fair.

However, warriors trained in advanced combat techniques possessed extraordinary strength—an entirely different matter altogether.

Zhao Haibin had his reasons. Dick was a rare case of dual training in both magic and martial arts, which justified the match. Otherwise, why would Dick be receiving double the salary?

A stronger sparring partner wasn’t a bad thing, and Dick’s new ‘Flame Blade’ combat technique did need to be tested against a formidable opponent. At worst, he could lose—losing only meant forfeiting the double salary. Battles weren’t guaranteed victories, were they?

As Dick stepped into the Zhao family’s viscount estate once more, it was still the familiar old Tyler overseeing the match at Training Ground No. 3. However, this time his sparring partner was the expected Level Three warrior, Zhao Haibin. Zhao Dayong and Zhao Wanying stood silently on the sidelines, mere spectators.

There seemed to be more spectators this time, most of them from the Zhao family, ranging from the young to the elderly. After all, it was worth the anticipation when someone from the family practiced advanced techniques tied to a unique bloodline. Or rather, Zhao Haibin was seen as the future leader of the Zhao family.

Advanced combat techniques, whether tied to bloodline or unique physiques, weren’t something just anyone could learn. Out of all the Zhao family’s young descendants, why was Zhao Haibin the only one capable of mastering their high-level techniques? Time and fortune played a role, much like how Dick’s older brothers couldn’t cultivate their family’s advanced bloodline techniques.

Another overseer joined the match—reportedly a Level Three light mage from the Zhao family, skilled in healing. Clearly, the Zhao family took this duel very seriously.

After all, Dick, his opponent, was also a well-known figure in the Magic Academy.

A rare combination of mage and warrior, Dick didn’t bother conjuring a magic shield. Instead, he summoned a few small fireballs around his chest and lunged at Zhao Haibin, brandishing his battle blade.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

In terms of pure strength, Dick, a mere Level Two, could muster around 1,600 pounds of force. Zhao Haibin, a Level Three warrior for two years, was surely at least at 2,500 pounds or more. On paper, the difference in power was clear.

Their blades clashed like meteors colliding. With each impact, Dick would hurl a fireball, forcing Zhao Haibin to divert his full strength away from defending against the blade.

Both had trained in advanced techniques, and Zhao Haibin’s footwork was elusive and agile. But Dick’s ‘Flame Step’ was no slouch either. It became a battle of power and speed, with Dick’s small fireball spells constantly interfering, making the fight surprisingly evenly matched.

Dick’s ‘Flame Blade’ infused with water magic didn’t just enhance the attack with 1,600 pounds of force; its explosive auxiliary effects packed a much greater punch.

Zhao Haibin, a true Zhao family prodigy, displayed immense strength and experience, clearly honed from his time in the magical beast mountain ranges. His killing intent matched Dick’s.

Warriors generally had greater stamina than mages. Yet, Dick, wielding his massive blade, fought fiercely for over ten minutes—an extraordinary feat for a Level Two mage, whose battles typically lasted no more than two or three minutes.

“Our Haibin seems to be at a disadvantage.”

“There’s no choice. Haibin has to dodge the fireballs as much as possible. Even a Level One mage’s fireball isn’t something a Level Three warrior’s body can withstand.”

“Dick’s footwork is clearly just a hair quicker than Haibin’s. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to strike Haibin so soon after launching a fireball. Simply put, Haibin can’t fully unleash his strength.”

“No worries. Haibin’s a Level Three warrior; he’s got more energy reserves than Dick.”

“Don’t forget, Dick hasn’t even used his signature ‘Waterfire Sword’ spell yet.”

“Dick’s stamina is almost spent—it’s time for the final clash.”

Indeed, Dick was reaching his limit. In truth, he hadn’t used his ‘Waterfire Sword’ spell; it consumed far too much magic. A change was necessary.

The change was deceptively simple—so simple, in fact, that no one saw it coming. Just before the final blow, Dick released two more small fireballs.

That’s it? Yes, that’s it. In the heat of battle, the three small fireballs seemed to seal off all of Zhao Haibin’s escape routes. Earlier, when the match began, a fresh Zhao Haibin with his top-tier evasive maneuvers could have dodged them.

But after ten minutes of such an intense fight, was a Level Three warrior’s stamina really so much greater?

With no other choice, Zhao Haibin used his greatsword to block the fireballs. The fireballs collided with the sword, disrupting his stance, and before he could recover, Dick’s blade struck him with a tremendous force. With a loud crash, Zhao Haibin was sent flying more than ten meters away. Though not gravely injured, he couldn’t stand.

Clever! Tyler, the overseer, silently praised Dick. To adapt and employ such a seemingly insignificant tactic in the heat of battle—now that was top-tier strategy.

Not every duel had to end with a grand finishing move. The true goal of combat was to defeat or even kill the enemy.

“Dick, you’ve won!” Zhao Haibin, lying on the ground, showed no sign of defeat, instead appearing even more motivated.

“I just used a bit of wit, that’s all. Truthfully, I’m not as strong as you,” Dick admitted honestly. As always, raw power was the foundation of strength. Tricks might work in the moment, but they couldn’t be relied on in the long term.

“A loss is a loss. If I had mustered more courage earlier, perhaps the result would’ve been different,” Zhao Haibin said as he struggled to sit up. He had sustained a blunt injury, nothing serious, especially with the family’s light mage already healing him. “Six thousand gold coins for a sparring partner like you is a bargain.”

Zhao Haibin’s words surprised Dick.

“Why the surprise? You think that idiot Allen is worth anything? He’s just a disgrace to the noble class. Do you really think I’d stand up for him? Haha!” With his wounds nearly healed, Zhao Haibin laughed and continued, “Dick, you’ve only been training for less than three years, yet you’ve progressed so quickly with so many tricks up your sleeve. If I don’t work harder, I might never surpass you.”

With that, Zhao Haibin picked up his sword and left.