Old Quinn's cloudy eyes carefully swept across every corner of the first floor. Seeing neither a person nor a corpse, he slowly shifted his gaze toward the second floor.
"Amon…"
"Amon…"
He called out softly, pretending he had come looking for someone.
There was no response—only his hoarse voice echoing through the house, like a vengeful ghost from the underworld claiming a life.
Old Quinn slowly climbed the stairs. Just as he reached halfway up, a chair came flying down from above.
His expression changed. With his left hand, he knocked it aside.
Amon leapt down, gripping a wooden stick—the only weapon he had been able to find on short notice.
Old Quinn circulated his soul power and viciously thrust his fork upward.
Amon swung the stick, striking the very tip of the fork and deflecting it. Using the momentum from his jump, he slammed into Old Quinn.
The two of them tumbled down the stairs together.
Old Quinn was underneath and absorbed most of the impact when they hit the ground. Amon rolled aside and seized the fork from his opponent's hand.
"Ah—my leg!" Old Quinn let out a miserable scream, clutching his left leg and wailing.
"What are you doing? I only came to borrow money… just to borrow money…"
"Is that so?" Amon steadied his breathing. Those movements had already consumed most of his remaining strength.
He picked up the kettle from the nearby table, poured a cup of water, and placed it on the ground a few steps away from Old Quinn.
"My apologies then. Have a drink to calm your nerves."
Old Quinn stared at him in terror. Seeing Amon raise the fork with a clear drink or die expression, he burst into tears and begged for mercy.
"Don't kill me! I was wrong… I was really wrong… please…"
When he refused to drink the water, Amon's suspicions were confirmed. He thrust the fork into the old man's neck.
Old Quinn's cries stopped.
Amon walked to the water vat, scooped water with a ladle, and washed the blood from his body. He scrubbed his hands over and over again.
The faint stench coming from the fork made him realize—it had just been used to shovel manure.
Fortunately, he hadn't been stabbed.
Even a small cut from something like that would have left psychological scars.
After changing into clean clothes, Amon retrieved a meat-cutting dagger from the cabinet and fastened it at his waist. He planned to head to Frostleaf City.
First, a city offered better access to information and more room for development. Second, after killing Old Quinn, remaining in Saint Grace Village would certainly bring trouble.
He had no interest in wasting time arguing with the old rogue's relatives.
At the village entrance, Amon encountered a young man carrying a bamboo basket on his back. He wore a jacket made of tanned deer hide.
Dimitri—the hunter's son. Warm and cheerful… The information surfaced automatically in Amon's mind.
Dimitri spotted him and waved with a grin. "Hey, Amon! Heading to the city?"
"You too?" Amon looked at him in slight surprise. Though Saint Grace Village wasn't far from Frostleaf City, villagers rarely went unless necessary.
"Yeah. My dad caught a wild boar and asked me to sell it. We're also running low on salt and matches." He pointed his thumb toward the bamboo basket, which held half a dressed boar.
"Let's go together. With you, Lord Soul Master, the road will be safer." He chuckled sheepishly and subconsciously touched the woodcutter's blade at his waist.
Between Frostleaf City and Saint Grace Village stretched open wilderness. Wolves and wild boars occasionally appeared—nothing major, but not entirely safe either.
Given his weakened condition, Amon was happy to have company.
He raised his hand and plucked a crystal-like monocle from the air, placing it over his right eye.
This was the ability of his external soul bone—it could materialize soul power, turning the intangible into physical substance. The skill itself consumed no extra energy; it simply granted soul power a special property.
This soul bone was unusual. Instead of attaching to his body, it was attached to his martial soul.
Though it offered no direct destructive force, Amon could freely convert his soul power into transparent liquid or solid matter.
Materialized soul power possessed a certain hardness and could mitigate external impact. The greater the amount of soul power invested, the stronger its hardness and shock absorption.
A very useful support ability, in Amon's evaluation.
Of course, what satisfied him most was that he could generate a monocle anytime, anywhere.
Although his dominant personality and memories belonged to the transmigrator, after merging with Amon's clone, he had inherited certain habits—such as feeling strangely uncomfortable if he wasn't wearing a monocle over his right eye.
Before long, Frostleaf City appeared in their view.
It was not a large city, but it was the most prosperous place in the region.
The Northern Province bordered the Extreme North. Due to its harsh climate, the land was vast and sparsely populated. Frostleaf City lay in the northernmost part of the province, even more isolated than most. The nearest other cities were over a hundred miles away.
"Halt," a guard at the city gate called out, stopping them. "One copper coin entrance fee per adult. If your goods exceed fifty kilograms, there's an additional fee."
He glanced at Amon and added, "Children enter free."
Dimitri hung his basket on the weighing pole. It didn't exceed the limit. With practiced ease, he tossed a copper coin into the iron collection box.
The guard nodded and waved them through.
After entering the city, Amon asked, "Do you know where I might find work?"
"Work? You're not going back to the village?"
"No. I want to look around. There should be more opportunities in the city."
"Hm…" Dimitri rubbed his chin in thought. "When I came a few days ago, I saw Icewind Junior Soul Master Academy recruiting assistant instructors. Maybe you could try there."
"Thank you for the information." Amon nodded.
After parting ways, Amon asked for directions repeatedly until he found his way toward the academy.
At one corner, a red-haired child suddenly rushed out and slammed into him, only to fall backward from the recoil.
"Sorry, sorry!" she scrambled up, apologized quickly, and ran off in a hurry.
Amon pinched his monocle and watched her retreating figure, clicking his tongue.
"Interesting."
Ten minutes later, he arrived at his destination.
Two guards with iron rulers hanging from their waists leaned lazily against the pillars at the entrance.
One of them yawned and glanced at Amon. "A kid? Haven't seen him before. Probably not a student here."
"Hello, is this Icewind Junior Soul Master Academy? Are you still recruiting assistant instructors?" Amon asked.
"You're a Soul Master?" The guard straightened immediately, a hint of respect in his tone.
"Yes. I heard you were recruiting and came to try."
"Please follow me. I'll take you to the principal. He personally handles personnel matters."
Under the guard's guidance, Amon arrived at a two-story stone building. They went upstairs, turned right, and reached the principal's office.
The guard knocked.
"Come in."
Principal Shi Guantao appeared to be in his sixties or seventies. His hair was completely white, a long beard hung from his chin, and though his wrinkles were shallow, his eyes were bright and sharp.
"Principal Shi, this gentleman is here to apply for the assistant instructor position." The guard withdrew after speaking.
Shi Guantao nodded and studied Amon. Seeing the half-grown child before him, he hesitated briefly before saying, "Introduce yourself."
"My name is Amon. Level 13 support-type Soul Master. I have some experience in close combat."
"How old are you?"
"Twelve."
"Release your martial soul."
Amon complied. Extending his right hand, gray light flickered as a semi-transparent worm with twelve rings and starry colors wriggled in his palm. A yellow soul ring slowly emerged, glowing faintly.
"A hundred-year soul ring? At your age, shouldn't you be attending an intermediate academy for further studies?" Shi Guantao asked in confusion.
"There are always disappointments and helpless choices in life." Amon shrugged, a faint, bitter smile curling at his lips.
In Shi Guantao's eyes, that smile carried a trace of hardship.
He nodded. "The assistant instructor salary isn't high—five gold soul coins per month, room and board included. One week probation. If you perform well, the待遇 can be increased."
Amon blinked. "That's it? I thought there would be some kind of assessment."
Shi Guantao laughed. "It's not that complicated. The job isn't difficult, and you'll be guided by official teachers. You'll only be teaching lower-grade students. Any Soul Master can do it."
Any Soul Master can do it. It sounded simple, but in reality, that requirement alone eliminated more than ninety percent of ordinary people.
"Do you have a place to stay?" Shi Guantao asked.
"No. I just came from the village today."
"I'll take you to the staff dormitory."
After arranging his lodging, Shi Guantao handed Amon a card bearing the academy's emblem. It served as identification and granted him various conveniences within the academy.
It was nearly evening. Amon planned to buy suitable clothes and sample the local cuisine. He subconsciously touched his chest—only to remember that his lovely gold soul coins were gone.
Recalling his collision with the red-haired child, he adjusted his monocle and murmured to himself:
"Interesting… I've been pickpocketed."