Volume One: The Forest Knight Chapter 110: The Horse Trader Grimbert (Part Nine)

After the three of them finished laughing, Berion caught his breath and said to Oromi, "Oromi, my good brother, I know you feel guilty because you believe I have shown you such great kindness, yet you held nothing back when fighting my personal guards.

But there is no need to think that way. A fight is a fight; when you step onto the practice field, the goal is to determine the superior, and as long as no lives are lost, everything is within reasonable bounds. These soldiers who followed me from Norlandenburg here will not think you were excessive; on the contrary, they would feel insulted if you didn't fight with your full strength."

Having said this, Berion walked up to Oromi, put an arm around his shoulders, and continued, "My good brother, what I need are men who dare to fight, are capable of fighting, and are willing to risk everything in battle, not someone who acts timidly because of personal sentiments. You are not that kind of person, and that is exactly what I admire about you. So, please, stop overthinking it. If you truly feel uneasy, share a few drinks with the men you injured when we eat tonight. They, too, admire warriors. As long as you remain loyal to me and your martial skills are beyond reproach, they will accept you as one of their own."

Upon hearing Berion’s reassurance, Oromi grinned foolishly. "My Lord, with those words from you, my mind is at ease. From now on, I will follow Lord Lothair and Lord Grelin and serve you faithfully."

He scratched his head and added, "And as for your Norlandenburg soldiers, although their individual combat techniques aren't particularly refined, their team coordination is very strong. I truly admire that."

"Hahaha!" Berion laughed, patting Oromi on the shoulder. "They have only been training for a short time. Give them another year or so, and their individual combat skills will improve as well. By then, you will find them much more troublesome to deal with."

"I still feel that natural talent is the most important thing," Oromi remarked. "When I fight, I rely mostly on brute strength and the experience I’ve gathered over the years."

Berion looked at Oromi, who stood a head taller than him, and rubbed his smooth chin. "In a one-on-one duel, physical fitness is certainly important, but it isn't everything; combat technique is equally vital. An ordinary person who has mastered superior combat techniques can defeat someone with much greater physical strength. Relying solely on brute force is not a foolproof strategy."

Berion smiled slightly and continued, "Oromi, since everyone is resting, are you interested in sparring with me? We won't go all out; it's just to see if what I just said holds true."

Oromi was immediately excited. As someone who had lived a life on the edge, he still possessed a competitive spirit regarding his martial prowess. He also wanted to test the combat strength of the young man who had won the trial by combat and was now hailed by everyone as if he were a god.

"Of course! My Lord Berion, I would love to spar with you," Oromi said, sounding a bit agitated.

Before he could finish, Lothair slapped his thick back with a loud thud, scolding him, "Oromi, don't be ridiculous! Why would you spar with Lord Berion? He is trying to teach you, not fight you for real. You fool, get over to the side and stay put!"

After rebuking Oromi, Lothair turned to Berion with an embarrassed expression. "Lord Berion, surely you are joking? How could you spar with a reckless brute like Oromi? It wouldn't matter if you hurt him, but if you were to get injured, how could I answer to your father, Lord Orie?"

"Uncle Lothair, don't worry. I am only testing him; I won't actually go all out. I know my limits, so please rest easy. Besides, that religious knight was even taller and more robust than Oromi, and I defeated him in just a few moves. What are you worried about?" Berion said with a smile.

"Exactly! Exactly!" muttered Oromi, who felt aggrieved after being scolded and struck. "Since everyone is resting, a spar between me and Lord Berion will not only give the men something to watch, but it will also be a learning opportunity for everyone."

Seeing that the spar could not be prevented, Lothair walked over to Oromi with a somber expression and whispered a few words of caution, telling him to be careful and not to harm Lord Berion.

Seeing how serious Lothair was, Oromi promised on his chest that he would be careful, telling Lothair not to worry—Lord Berion could beat him as much as he liked, but he definitely would not fight back for real.

Watching them whisper, Berion naturally understood what was happening. He knew Lothair didn't believe he could defeat Oromi bare-handed, given the immense disparity in size and strength. Berion had once seen Oromi—this giant of a man—single-handedly knock down ten guards armed with sticks and five mercenaries in the middle of the street. It was a terrifying display of combat power; if he himself had been in that situation, he likely would have suffered injuries and only managed to win by fighting while fleeing. Yet Oromi, relying purely on his raw strength, had accomplished the feat. He was not an easy opponent.

Once Berion and Oromi stood in the center of the training ground, the soldiers gathered around to watch. The few dozen spectators in the stands who were about to leave also returned to their seats to watch the excitement.

Oromi and Berion shared a smile and put some distance between them. Berion stood waiting for Oromi to make the first move. Oromi shook his head, rubbed his knuckles, and charged forward decisively.

As Oromi closed in, he swung his massive fist toward Berion. Lothair’s face turned green with anger as he watched, silently cursing Oromi for a pig-headed fool who had completely ignored his warning and his own promises. He swore that if Oromi dared to hurt Berion, he would break his legs.

Just as Oromi reached him, Berion leaned backward, keeping his upper body out of the reach of Oromi's horizontal left hook. In the same motion, he quickly snapped his right foot up, kicking toward Oromi's crotch.

Realizing Berion was aiming for his future lineage, Oromi hurriedly slid backward, narrowly avoiding the blow. He gasped, never imagining that a noble lord would aim for a man's most vulnerable spot in the very first move—it was too underhanded. Oromi was secretly relieved; had he not reacted quickly, he would have been crippled.

But before Oromi could even breathe a sigh of relief, Berion’s right foot, having failed its initial strike, retracted only halfway before snapping out again in a powerful kick to Oromi's chest. Although he didn't use full force, the impact left Oromi feeling a sudden tightness in his chest, and he nearly lost his breath.

This was not the end. Just as Oromi prepared to retaliate with a kick of his own, Berion landed his right foot, pivoted his body to the left, and swung his leg in a high arc toward Oromi's head.

The kick didn't actually land; it stopped just beside Oromi's cheek. Berion then retracted his leg, stood straight, and asked with a smile, "How was that? Are you alright after that blow?"

"Heh... cough... cough..." Oromi coughed, but he was still grinning, showing no signs of serious injury. "It's nothing, my Lord. You didn't use full force. If you had gone all out, I think I might have been knocked unconscious."

As he spoke, he brushed the footprint off his chest and bowed respectfully to Berion. "My Lord, I am truly convinced. Not only do you know how to lead men, but your martial skills are also exceptional. Oromi is yours for life."

Berion accepted this calmly and said with a smile, "Once we reach Norlandenburg, I believe your confidence in this decision will only grow stronger."

Meanwhile, the onlookers, assuming Oromi had lost in a show of genuine submission, broke into applause and cheers. The Norlandenburg soldiers, in particular, cheered even more fervently, as Berion rarely displayed such lethal techniques in front of them.

Once the cheering died down, Berion spoke loudly to both sides: "My spar with Oromi is over, and you have seen the result. I imagine that before the match, you didn't believe I could defeat a giant like Oromi, did you, Uncle Lothair?"

Lothair scratched the back of his head and replied sheepishly, "That is true, Lord Berion. Based on my ten years of combat experience, it is nearly impossible to defeat a monster like Oromi bare-handed."

"Yet I did it. Do you want to know why?" Berion asked loudly.

"We do!"

"Of course we do!"

"We're dying to know!"

"My Lord, tell us!"

...

Berion pulled Oromi over, using him as a demonstration tool, and explained the moves he had just used. In truth, this three-part kick combination was nothing magical; it was a move found in many street-fighting instructional videos from Berion's past life, valued for being simple, practical, and easy to learn.

Sure enough, after Berion’s demonstration, everyone exclaimed, "It’s actually that simple!"

Hearing this, Oromi’s expression darkened. He shouted, "Hey! Hey! If you think it's so simple, why don't you try it? Let’s see if you can actually pull it off!"

After Oromi said this, several mercenaries from Lothair’s group and soldiers from Berion’s personal guard tried it out. Although the moves were simple, they realized it wasn't as easy as it looked in practice.

Seeing that their attempts were yielding little result, Berion called for a halt. He then explained the fundamental common sense of combat. While some expert fighters in this world knew these principles, few were willing to share them, especially when training common soldiers, whom the nobility viewed as disposable cannon fodder.

Using the three-part kick as an example, he demonstrated the low kick to the groin, the front kick to the chest, and the high-level roundhouse kick to the head again, then asked, "Did it look effortless when I did it?"

Seeing them nod in unison, he posed a second question: "Since it is so effortless, why can’t you master it quickly and apply it in battle?"

Looking at their silent faces, Berion smiled. "It looks effortless mainly because of proficiency; the ability to apply it in battle and achieve results comes from having enough strength and speed."

With that, Berion performed a swift, powerful side kick, striking a nearby wooden post and snapping it in two. This display of skill on the spot left the men trembling with excitement; they could see that if such a kick landed on an opponent's shin, it would certainly shatter the bone.

Berion looked at the now-focused group and explained with a smile, "Everyone knows how to fight. Which of us men hasn't been brawling since we were in diapers? But brawling is different from combat. Brawling is just play, but combat is a matter of life and death. Especially for those of us who go to war, failing to master combat skills will likely lead to a miserable death on the battlefield.

Combat techniques are just a form. You could bring a child over, have him practice for a day, and he could make it look decent, but he would lack lethal force in a real fight. Why? Because individual strength, explosive power, and the ability to withstand impact are the foundation—the core. Only when you have trained those well can these techniques truly be effective."