Days passed, one after another, and Murphy continued to do odd jobs in the main stables.
In the morning, he would sweep the empty stalls. In the afternoon, he would clean the water-filled troughs. In the evening, he would organize what little hay was left.
Although Yor's stables currently had no warhorses to care for, he still kept them tidy, always ready for new ones to arrive.
One day, as Murphy was pushing a cart of fresh hay past the laundry, he once again ran into Tom, Jack, and Will.
The three servants were hanging up washed clothes to dry. The moment they saw Murphy, their hands froze in unison.
Tom was the first to react. He hurriedly put down the wet clothes in his hands and greeted him again, a bit awkwardly, "Murphy."
His voice was even more respectful than before.
Jack and Will quickly followed suit, their heads bowed so low they hardly dared to look directly at Murphy.
They remembered the two times they had privately gossiped about him. The first time, Murphy had returned safe and sound. The second time, not only was he not transferred to the public stables, but he even received special consideration from Yor.
This unusual turn of events confused them and made them even more wary of him.
Murphy gave a slight nod and continued on his way, pushing the cart of hay.
He could feel the three pairs of eyes on his back, burning hotter than before, but he remained unfazed.
Only after he was far away did Will lower his voice, a tone of disbelief creeping in. "How is he still here? Didn't everyone say he was about to be transferred to the public stables?"
Jack glanced around nervously to make sure no one was nearby before chiming in, "I heard Yor specially pleaded with the Lord Baron before he left, which is how he got to stay in the main stables."
Tom pursed his lips, a hint of resentment in his voice. "Yor must be confused, going to all that trouble for a Groom who's only been here a year..."
"What are you talking about?"
A cold voice suddenly came from behind them.
The three of them shuddered. They turned to see the Steward standing behind them, his face livid.
"S-Steward..."
Tom's voice trembled.
The Steward's gaze swept over the three like a knife. "Did I hear you speaking ill of Yor?"
"No! We wouldn't dare!"
Jack scrambled to deny it, but his pale face betrayed him.
Will was so frightened he dropped directly to his knees. "Mercy, Steward! We were just being foolish..."
The Steward sneered. "It seems Carl's lesson wasn't harsh enough. Guards!"
Two Guards appeared at his call.
The Steward pointed at the three of them. "Take them to the punishment chamber and give them each twenty lashes. Let everyone see the price for speaking ill of their betters!"
"Have mercy, Steward!"
Tom wailed, but the Guards had already seized him roughly.
Though Jack and Will weren't being held, they stood frozen in place, trembling and not daring to resist.
News of the incident spread quickly throughout the castle.
Murphy heard about it while cleaning the horse tack. He could only shake his head in resignation.
In this castle, speaking ill of a Knight's Attendant was indeed a serious offense, but he hadn't expected Tom and the others to be so reckless.
That evening, while drawing water from the well, Murphy overheard several servants discussing the day's events.
"I heard Tom and the others were flogged raw. They'll be laid up for at least half a month."
"Serves them right! They should have learned to hold their tongues."
"Exactly. A loose tongue only brings disaster."
After fetching the water, Murphy returned to the main stables.
Inside the empty stables, only a few oil lamps flickered in the wind.
He ran his hand over an empty stall, recalling Yor's parting words.
"Become the Stable Master..."
he muttered to himself.
Then, Murphy let out a scornful laugh.
'Stable Master? Status? Power? In a world where the strong devour the weak, none of that is as real as personal strength.'
'Yor was a respected Knight's Attendant, and didn't he end up with crippled legs?'
'If he'd had enough power back then, how could he have...?'
Moonlight spilled through the window of the dormitory next to the stables, casting dappled shadows on the floor.
Murphy sat cross-legged on his simple bed and began to practice Breathing and Guiding.
Ever since Hank had moved to the public stables, this room was his alone, making it the perfect place for his Cultivation.
As his breathing steadied, he felt the Qi within him begin to flow slowly.
Compared to when he had just returned from the Twilight Mountain Range, this Qi had grown from a strand as fine as a single hair to one as thick as a coarse thread.
This power coursed through his meridians, bringing with it waves of coolness.
The fatigue from chopping hay and moving feed during the day gradually dissipated, replaced by a strange sense of fullness.
He could clearly feel his muscles growing firmer and his bones becoming tougher under the nourishment of his Qi.
The most wondrous change was to his five senses.
With his eyes closed, he could clearly hear the restless stamping of hooves from a horse a hundred paces away in the stables and distinguish the different scents mixed in the night breeze.
It wasn't just the nearby smells of dirt, hay, and horse manure, but also the lingering scent of cooking smoke from the distant kitchen, and even the damp aroma of moss by the well.
This enhancement of his perception allowed him to clearly grasp any movement in the distance.
Any footsteps attempting to approach the dormitory, even from dozens of paces away, could not escape his hearing.
Just then, his stomach let out a soft GROWL.
Murphy slowly exhaled a breath of turbid air, feeling the Qi gathering in his Dantian and, at the same time, a pang of hunger from his stomach.
His Cultivation was consuming more Energy than he could replenish.
Murphy couldn't help but wonder when the new followers would arrive.
'If they arrive soon,' he thought, 'I can restart my 'Deduction' of that high-quality horse feed.'
Oats, soybeans, and fish meal—this nutrient-rich feed was of great benefit to his Cultivation.
As for his own wages and the money he'd gotten from Tommy Han, which was buried in the forests of New Wood Town, he hadn't touched a single coin.
Murphy planned to wait until more time had passed since the incident in the Twilight Mountain Range, after things had completely died down, before he started to cautiously use that money.
Although this would slow his Cultivation progress considerably, safety was paramount.
He hadn't forgotten what happened to Carl.
It was a lesson he took to heart, even though he wasn't Carl and possessed an ability like Breathing and Guiding.
...
One morning a week later, Murphy was cleaning the stable's water troughs when he suddenly overheard several other Grooms talking excitedly.
"Did you hear? The Lord Baron is finally going to recruit new Knight's Attendants!"
"Does that mean the main stables will finally get some new warhorses?"
"Hard to say. Have you forgotten about the Northern Trade Route...?"
Murphy's hands paused for a moment. He went back to scrubbing the trough, but his ears carefully caught every word.
'This is good news,' he thought. 'New followers mean new warhorses, which means I can finally get that 'nutrition' again to help with my Cultivation.'
'As for the business with the Northern Trade Route?'
Murphy figured it wouldn't affect the followers' warhorses, at least. After all, there were still six warhorses in the public stables.
'I just don't know if that will be enough.'
'Besides, based on examples from his past life, the more desperate a power becomes, the more warlike it gets.'
'Whatever!'
'I'm just a Groom, after all.'