As an NPC, having a lot of skills is quite reasonable, right?

"You little brat!" Gray reached out and slapped Moen hard on the shoulder, so hard that Moen almost fell over.

"You're just my type! Unlike those brats in the Holy City who're all talk about divine grace and flattery, you're genuine!"

"Really?" Moen asked doubtfully, rubbing his numb shoulders.

He always thought of himself as a cunning and calculating old fox, a player who would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

Unexpectedly, in Gray's eyes, who had seen countless people, he was actually a sincere person.

But then I remembered that in my past life, those brothers in the game guild, whom I had never met, said the same thing: "If you have any trouble, go to the guild leader. As long as Brother Jiang is here, someone will hold up the sky if it falls."

One sentence made Moen feel as if he had been transported back to those passionate and pioneering years.

"No wonder Arya treats you differently."

Gray withdrew his hand, his tone teasing: "I still remember the last time she returned to the Holy City, the first thing she said to me was, 'Master, can I issue a special recruitment order to someone who isn't from the church?'"

"I thought the girl had gone crazy at the time, but now it seems that with your abilities, she really wants to bring you into the church."

"But the church isn't exactly a good place either."

Gray spoke the last sentence very softly, as if it were an involuntary sigh. If it weren't so quiet around him, he probably wouldn't have heard it.

"Alright, that's enough drinking." Gray stood up, stretched his neck, and made a series of cracking sounds.

"Since Arya thinks highly of you, let's practice some more while we're still a bit tipsy."

Gray sent a challenge to Moen.

"Huh?" Moen was taken aback. "Right here?"

"Right here." Gray didn't draw his sword, but simply stood casually in the snow, one hand behind his back, and beckoned to Moen with his finger:

"I won't use any divine power, just skill and strength. If you can force me to take even half a step back, you win."

"But let me make this clear: if you're too weak, you can forget about sleeping tonight."

Seeing the old man's posture, Moen knew that refusing was impossible.

"Then... sir, please go easy on me."

Moen took a deep breath, his eyes instantly turning sharp.

If old man Gray doesn't use skills, then he doesn't plan to use them either.

Since it's purely about skill, this former PVP pro player isn't sleepy at all.

It's important to know that Moen, as the only well-known player in his previous life who didn't join any church, earned his reputation solely through his skills in the Forbidden Arena.

"Excuse me!"

Moen stomped his foot, and the snow exploded.

He nimbly turned and delivered a tricky side thrust aimed directly at Gray's exposed ribs.

This tactic has proven effective in player-versus-player combat, relying on speed, accuracy, and ruthlessness.

However, Gray didn't even lift his eyelids. Just as Moen's fist was about to touch him, he simply leaned back slightly, and Moen's fist slid past his black robe.

Before Moen could change his move, Gray's body bounced back and slammed into Moen.

Moen felt as if he had been hit by a truck, and he was sent flying three meters away before plunging headfirst into a snowdrift.

"Too slow, the intention is too obvious," Gray commented.

"Your moves are flashy and your predictions are good, but they're all dead ends. In a real fight, your body has to move before your brain."

"Again!" Moen climbed out of the snowdrift, spat out the snow in his mouth, and his competitive spirit was rising.

The next half hour became a one-sided history of torture for Moen.

His proud positioning, predictions, and even the strange moves he learned from others were all clearly seen through by Gray's rich combat intuition.

The old man didn't even use his hands; he knocked Moen down more than ten times just by using his footwork and leveraging his strength.

"Huff... huff..."

Moen lay sprawled in the snow, watching the snowflakes fall, feeling as if his bones were about to fall apart.

Is this the true value of a Holy Knight? It's a complete rout.

On the one hand, there may be a lack of adaptation due to low attribute values, and many actions cannot be performed now.

Another aspect is that in the later stages of his previous life, he relied too much on the Ancient Stone Tablet skill he found in the 3.0 version event. After all, in this world, the bonus from a divinely bestowed skill might be equivalent to more than ten years of hard work by an ordinary person.

"Did you learn it on your own?" Gray walked up to him and asked, looking down at him.

"Yeah, I just figured it out myself," Moen replied breathlessly, actually referring to the experience he had gained from countless battles in his previous life.

"To have mastered this much using only self-taught methods, you really have some talent," Gray said, a rare compliment, though it still sounded like an insult.

He reached out and pulled Moen up from the ground, patting the snow off his back: "But these are all flaws. If you encounter a true master, you wouldn't be able to survive ten times over."

The old knight glanced at Moen, a determined glint in his eyes: "For the next month, I will stay in Nohanville to handle the follow-up matters. During this time, wait for me at your camp in the Rift Valley every evening at this time."

"Since you are someone that girl values, I will teach you what I have to do. As for how much you can learn, that depends on your ability."

Moen was taken aback, then overjoyed.

This isn't a sparring partner; it's clearly a hidden mentor starting a side quest called "Devil Training"!

A direct disciple of a Holy Knight! This is a privilege many players dream of!

"Thank you, Master!" Mo En's "Master" was sincere.

"Don't call me that. I only have one apprentice." Gray waved his hand, but the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, clearly pleased with the title of "master."

"Let's go, it's getting late. We made too much noise and woke up the little girl in your room."

After saying that, Gray turned around and leaped twice, flying out of the courtyard.

In just a few seconds, his figure completely disappeared into the vast night, leaving not even a footprint.

"What do you mean, 'the girl in my room'..." Moen said, both amused and exasperated.

Just then, the door behind me creaked open.

Wearing a thick bathrobe, Alvin rubbed her sleepy eyes and poked her head out. She had obviously been awakened by the sounds of fighting in the courtyard.

"Moen? What are you doing in the yard so late? I think I heard fighting."

Moen stood in the snow, feeling the pain from the bruises still on his body, but he felt a sense of peace he had never felt before.

He turned back to Alvin and smiled, his tone relaxed: "It's nothing, just ran into an old friend and we sparred a bit."

"It's cold outside, go back to sleep, tomorrow..." Moen looked up at the starry sky.

"Tomorrow should be a nice day."

Moen went back inside and closed the door. He noticed that Lily had also opened the door a crack and was secretly observing. Moen checked the time; it was just past midnight.

There were no cell phones in this world, and people didn't have many forms of entertainment. They generally went to bed very early at night. Moen was too embarrassed to wake the two of them, so he cooked a late-night snack himself.

Alvin and Lily were surprised that Moen could cook, and that his cooking was quite good. After a satisfying meal, everyone returned to their rooms contentedly.

The snow continued to fall, and the lights at Blackberry Manor went out a few minutes later, as Norhanville slept soundly in the snow.