A murder of crows circled above Castle Black, their caws piercing and harsh.
Lynn lay on his simple cot, staring up at the crisscrossing wooden beams of the ceiling.
The room smelled of bitter herbs, and a pile of bloody bandages lay in the corner.
The assassin from the night before had been hastily buried in the lichyard behind the castle.
No one asked about the corpse's identity.
No one cared who had sent him.
At the Wall, death was as common as the cold.
Torren entered the room, carrying a bowl of steaming meat broth.
"My Lord, Maester Aemon says you need to regain your strength."
Lynn took the wooden bowl, the warmth seeping into his palms.
He took a small sip; the salty, gamey taste spread across his tongue.
"Did you find out who he was?"
Torren shook his head.
"Just an ordinary brother named Bill."
"He didn't talk much, didn't have many friends."
"As for who put him up to it..."
Torren trailed off.
Such things were common at Castle Black.
The man was dead, and the trail was cold.
Lynn placed the bowl on the small table by the bed.
He had expected this outcome.
A petty man like Alliser Thorne never left loose ends.
Even if he had ordered it, there would be no proof.
"Forget it."
Lynn sat up slowly, the movement pulling painfully at the wound on his back.
"Dead men tell no tales."
"And the living rarely speak the truth."
Torren's fists clenched, knuckles white.
"My Lord, should I take some men and teach Thorne a lesson?"
"No."
"Doing so without cause will only anger Mormont."
Lynn waved his hand.
"Now is not the time."
Lynn's fingers tapped rhythmically on the edge of the bed.
His mind was already calculating another move.
The discovery from last night was far more important than catching an assassin.
If his subordinates killed enemies, he gained experience points.
This revelation fundamentally changed his strategy.
He could send out squads to hunt, while he focused on improving himself in other ways.
"Torren."
Lynn's voice suddenly turned serious.
"Pick ten of the most reliable brothers."
"Take enough supplies and patrol the perimeter beyond the Wall."
Torren paused.
"My Lord? You mean..."
"Wildlings."
A sharp glint flashed in Lynn's eyes.
"I hear there have been small bands of wildlings active near the Wall recently."
"Perfect for you and the men to practice on."
Excitement lit up Torren's face.
These Northern soldiers were bored stiff.
A chance for real combat was exactly what they craved.
"At once, my Lord!"
Torren turned to leave, but Lynn called him back.
"Remember, do not be reckless."
"Act according to the situation. Safety comes first."
Lynn's tone was sincere.
Back when he played Mount & Blade, even losing virtual soldiers pained him. Now, it was real life.
These hundred elites were his lifeblood!
Their lives were more precious than experience points.
Experience could be farmed slowly, but loyal soldiers were hard to find.
A look of emotion flashed in Torren's eyes; he could see Lynn's concern was genuine.
He nodded heavily and strode out of the room.
Lynn lay back down and closed his eyes.
He needed to rest and recover for the next few days.
But there was also something else he wanted to try.
He remembered training methods from his past life.
Since he had free time, why not try a more scientific approach to exercise?
Three days later.
Lynn's wounds had mostly healed.
He stood in the training yard of Castle Black, several iron pots borrowed from the kitchen lying beside him.
He had strung them together with rope to act as makeshift weights.
Jon Snow stood nearby, watching Lynn with confusion written all over his face.
"What are you doing?"
Jon walked over, pointing at the odd contraption.
"Training."
Lynn strapped the pots to his shoulders and began doing squats.
His movements were slow and controlled, his leg muscles tensing with each descent.
Jon frowned deeper.
"I've never seen this kind of training."
"At Winterfell, the knights just practice with swords."
Lynn didn't stop; sweat began to bead on his forehead.
"Everyone has their own methods."
The core of strength training was progressive overload.
Only by constantly increasing the burden on the muscles could you tear them down to rebuild them stronger.
Westeros' traditional training methods were still stuck in a rather primitive stage.
An hour later.
Lynn set down the iron pots, his body soaked in sweat.
He leaned against a wooden post, gasping for air.
His muscles felt swollen and sore—a prelude to growth.
> [Through scientific strength training, your strength has increased slightly. Please explore other attribute improvement methods on your own.]
> [Strength: 5 (Current Progress 4%)]
Excitement flashed in Lynn's eyes.
It worked!
Name: Lynn
Strength: 5 (4%)
Agility: 5 (0%)
Constitution: 5 (0%)
[Click to Expand]
Remaining Experience: 2
"It seems I need to fill the progress bar to reach 6 Strength."
Jon was still examining the iron pots.
"Is this really useful?"
He tentatively lifted one, testing the weight.
"You can try."
Lynn stood up and patted Jon on the shoulder.
"But take it step by step. Don't start too heavy."
Jon nodded and began to mimic Lynn's movements.
Though a bit clumsy at first, his form was decent.
Watching Jon train earnestly, Lynn felt a sense of satisfaction.
The sun began to set.
Only two sweating figures remained in the yard.
In the distance, Arya leaned on a windowsill, watching Lynn intently.
Her eyes were filled with adoration and concern.
She didn't understand why Lynn trained in such a strange way, but she knew there must be a reason.
After all, everything Lynn did turned out to be right in the end.
On the seventh day.
Torren led his squad back to Castle Black.
They wore excited grins, though their clothes were stained with blood.
Sacks of loot were unloaded from the horses.
Lynn stood in the center of the courtyard, waiting for Torren's report.
"My Lord!"
Torren strode up to Lynn, his voice buzzing with excitement.
"We found a wildling scouting party twenty miles from the Wall."
"Twelve of them in total."
Lynn nodded for him to continue.
"We hit them from the flank, caught them completely off guard."
"The fight lasted less than half an hour. All hostiles eliminated."
"We only had two brothers with light injuries."
Torren's tone was full of pride.
Lynn's attention, however, was focused elsewhere.
> [Killed 12 enemies. Experience +15]
> [Current Experience: 17]
The system notification rang in his mind, instantly lifting his mood.
It was confirmed: his subordinates' kills counted for him.
This meant he could send out multiple squads to hunt in different locations.
With proper command, his experience gain rate would skyrocket.
"Well done."
Lynn patted Torren's shoulder.
"Let the brothers rest well. Prepare for the next operation in three days."
Torren grinned broadly.
"My Lord, the men are pumped."
"They say this is real fighting, much better than standing guard at Winterfell."
The corner of Lynn's mouth hooked up.
It seemed the fighting spirit of these Northern soldiers had been thoroughly ignited.
That was good news for his plans.