Lynn stood in the center of the training yard. The air smelled of ice, snow, and horse dung, while a few ravens cawed harshly from the ramparts.
Winter was exceptionally cold this year.
Without moleskin gloves for protection, one's fingers would likely freeze off.
Alliser Thorne had been waiting there for some time, flanked by more than twenty brothers of the Night's Watch.
Resentment was written all over their faces.
"Today, this deserter learns what rules are," Thorne's voice grated on the ears.
The brothers behind him nodded, gripping various weapons tightly.
Lynn slowly drew his longsword, the blade reflecting a cold gleam in the pale morning light.
The feeling after upgrading his skills was completely different.
Every swing, every step, felt more precise and lethal.
"Who's first?"
Lynn extended his sword, pointing it at the group.
This contemptuous gesture only fueled their rage.
A burly man with a full beard stepped forward.
He held a two-handed battle-axe and possessed an exceptionally robust physique.
"Boy, I'm going to chop off your head and use it for a football!"
The burly man roared and charged at Lynn, his axe carving a vicious arc through the air.
Lynn sidestepped slightly.
The axe whistled past his shoulder, stirring up a gust of wind.
In the next instant, Lynn's sword was pressed against the man's neck.
The whole process was so fast it was a blur.
Disbelief filled the man's eyes as sweat rolled down his forehead.
"Next."
Lynn withdrew his sword, his tone remaining calm.
The burly man retreated to the side in disgrace, his face an ugly shade of red.
The second challenger was a tall, thin man wielding a spear.
He tried to use the length of his weapon to keep his distance from Lynn.
But Lynn wove through his attack range, dodging perfectly each time, gradually closing the gap.
When the spear thrust toward Lynn's chest, Lynn sidestepped the tip and simultaneously chopped down on the shaft.
The wooden shaft snapped with a crack.
The thin man was left holding half a broken spear.
He stared blankly at his ruined weapon.
"I yield."
He dropped the broken spear and retreated dejectedly.
Third, fourth, fifth...
Every challenger was defeated cleanly and decisively.
After the skill upgrade, Lynn's swordsmanship had become exquisite.
He began to crush his opponents with pure technique.
Moves that should have been simple were unpredictable in Lynn's hands.
The expressions on the faces of the watching brothers shifted from mockery to shock, and then from shock to fear.
Alliser Thorne's face grew uglier by the minute.
"Damn it, how did he suddenly get so strong?"
"He wasn't like this last time."
Thorne cursed under his breath through gritted teeth.
After another challenger fell, the courtyard plunged into dead silence.
Lynn stood amidst a pile of defeated men; the others gripped their weapons but dared not advance.
Lynn was breathing only slightly faster, as if he had just finished a morning warm-up.
"Anyone else?"
Lynn's gaze swept over the remaining brothers.
Everyone he looked at unconsciously took a step back.
Alliser Thorne took a deep breath and finally stepped forward himself.
"It seems I have to teach you a lesson personally."
Thorne drew his longsword, a finely crafted weapon.
Intricate patterns were etched into the blade; clearly, it was no ordinary steel.
"Ser Alliser, are you sure about this?"
Tyrion's voice drifted from the courtyard entrance.
He walked over with Jon and Arya, concern evident on their faces.
If Lynn got killed, the secrets Tyrion wanted to know would be buried with him.
"This is internal Night's Watch business," Thorne replied without looking back.
"You have no right to interfere."
Tyrion frowned but ultimately didn't stop him.
The Night's Watch did have its own rules, and outsiders couldn't easily meddle.
Arya nervously grabbed Benjen's sleeve.
"Uncle, is Lynn in danger?"
Benjen shook his head.
"Thorne is stronger than the average brother, and he's older, with more experience than Lynn. Overall, Lynn is at a disadvantage."
"However, I don't think he's Lynn's match."
Benjen recalled the scene of teaching Lynn archery.
The boy truly had exceptional aptitude!
On the other side, Thorne raised his longsword, assuming a standard combat stance.
He was the Master-at-Arms of Castle Black, after all; his strength was far above the common rank and file.
"Boy, let me show you what true swordsmanship is!"
Thorne charged at Lynn, his strikes fierce and precise.
Every thrust aimed for a vital point, showing no mercy.
Lynn retreated a few steps, beginning to take the fight seriously.
Thorne's strength was indeed formidable; his swordplay was seasoned and ruthless, worthy of a veteran ranger.
But Lynn's skills had reached the Expert level. The techniques he had mastered were in no way inferior to Thorne's.
Their blades clashed continuously in the air, ringing out with the crisp sound of metal on metal.
Sparks flew, illuminating their focused faces.
One minute...
Two minutes...
As time passed, Thorne grew more alarmed!
He could even feel that Lynn's swordsmanship was improving during their fight, each move more refined than the last.
What kind of god-tier talent is this?
Lynn was even attempting to mimic some of Thorne's own moves!
This ability to grow rapidly in combat made Thorne shudder.
"Impossible!"
Thorne's stamina was draining, and so was Lynn's.
So, Thorne gritted his teeth and launched a ferocious assault.
But although Lynn was tired, he had completely adapted to Thorne's rhythm.
Since childhood, Lynn had been bullied by classmates.
His father had taught him:
When fighting someone, don't look at how nonchalant they seem.
You feel tired? He's tired too, maybe even more than you!
You feel pain? He hurts too, maybe more than you!
Never be fooled by appearances.
Use your greatest strength and go all out!
Only persistence leads to victory!
Those who give up halfway will only be bullied!
Since that day, no one dared to bully Lynn again.
When Lynn got going, he was a mad dog. Either he knocked the other guy down, or he got knocked down.
Only one person could remain standing!
Lynn gritted his teeth, proactively increasing his force, trading blows head-on with Thorne.
From figuring out the patterns to counterattacking, expanding his advantage, and finally achieving results...
Finally, after a clever parry, Lynn relaxed his body, panting heavily.
But the tip of his longsword was pressed against Thorne's throat.
The courtyard fell into dead silence again.
Everyone's eyes went wide at the scene.
Alliser Thorne, the Master-at-Arms of Castle Black.
Defeated by a "deserter"?
"Do you yield?"
Thorne's face turned beet red, veins bulging on his forehead.
But the sword tip was right at his throat.
A gentle push from Lynn, and he would die on the spot.
"I... I yield."
Thorne squeezed the words out through clenched teeth.
Lynn withdrew his sword and turned to face all the Night's Watchmen.
"Now, does anyone else have a problem?"
No one answered.
Everyone lowered their heads, daring not to meet Lynn's gaze.
The fight just now had thoroughly cowed them.
"Good."
Lynn nodded and sheathed his sword.
"From now on, if anyone has an opinion, feel free to come find me."
With that, Lynn turned and left the training yard.
Lord Commander Mormont stood at the window of the Lord Commander's Tower, taking it all in.
"This young man..."
The Old Bear muttered to himself.
"Perhaps letting him leave Castle Black is indeed the best choice."
---
In the afternoon, Mormont summoned Lynn.
The room was still simple, the fire burning brightly.
The raven was still perched on the Old Bear's shoulder, eyeing Lynn with beady black eyes.
"Sit."
Mormont pointed to the chair opposite him.
Lynn sat down, waiting for the Old Bear to speak.
"Your performance this morning was impressive," Mormont said slowly.
"I haven't seen such excellent swordsmanship in a long time."
"Thank you for the praise, Lord Commander," Lynn replied humbly.
"However, I am more curious about the speed of your improvement."
Mormont's gaze sharpened.
"Not long ago, you were an ordinary brother with average sword skills, barely above average. Today, you defeated Thorne."
"That speed of progress is... unusual."
Lynn's heart skipped a beat, but his face remained impassive.
"Perhaps it is a gift from the Old Gods."
Mormont stared at Lynn for a long time before finally nodding.
"Whatever the reason, since you were able to silence them, I will honor my promise."
Lynn waited for the Old Bear to continue.
Mormont stood up and walked to the window.
"You may go with Lord Stark to King's Landing."
"But nominally, you remain a man of the Night's Watch."
"This is the best arrangement I can give you."
Lynn felt a surge of joy.
"As you command, Lord Commander."
"However..."
Mormont turned around.
"Before you leave, I hope you can do one thing for us."
"What is it?"
"Wildling activity beyond the Wall is becoming more frequent."
Mormont walked back to the desk and unrolled a map.
"I need you to take some men and clear this area."
He pointed to several locations on the map.
"Wildling tracks have been spotted in these places recently."
"With your current strength, you should be up to the task."
Lynn looked closely at the marked locations.
They weren't too far from the Wall, but the number of wildlings might be significant.
Mormont sat back down.
"I suggest you take more men. Wildling equipment is crude, but their combat ability is not to be underestimated."
Lynn nodded.
This was exactly the opportunity he needed.
More wildlings meant more experience points.
At the same time, the Valyrian steel bastard sword passed down by the Old Bear's ancestors was exactly what he needed right now.
The longer he stayed here, the greater the possibility of obtaining "Longclaw."
Longclaw, a Valyrian steel sword enhanced with spells and magic, was originally given to Jon by the Old Bear to repay a life-saving grace.
He could only say sorry to Jon.
"I need three days to prepare."
"Granted."
Mormont waved his hand.
"Go. I hope you return safely."