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

The morning sunlight streamed through the windows onto the long dining table, making breakfast at Blackberry Farm exceptionally peaceful.

After breakfast, Moen wiped his mouth and mysteriously beckoned to Lily, who was staring blankly at her cup: "Lily, come to my room for a moment, I have a surprise for you!"

If this were said in an ordinary household, it would probably have caused a misunderstanding long ago.

But here, Alvin continued reading her spellbook, while Grin unresponsively cleared the table.

This made Moen worry that Lily, who grew up in this environment, might be led astray.

Moen led Lily upstairs, entered the house, closed the door behind him, and activated the soundproofing talisman made by Elwin in one smooth motion.

Lily stood obediently by the bed, her hands behind her back, her heterochromatic eyes blinking curiously as she waited for Moen's next move.

"Ahem." Moen coughed twice tactically to ease the feeling of being about to abduct a child.

"Today, I'm going to teach you an incredible magic trick!"

Moen's tone was slightly exaggerated, but he felt that the Holy Ritual-level skill [Wrath of Winter] in his hand was absolutely worthy of this grand occasion.

Passing on the [Wrath of Winter] was a decision made after careful consideration.

First of all, Lily not only has extremely high affinity with ice-type elements, but more importantly, she has complete trust in Moen.

Secondly, in this family, Elwin is single-minded and still has a lingering attachment to the Starweave Academy. As for Grin, he's a life profession practitioner who can't even use his skills properly.

Only the simple, obedient, and exceptionally talented Lily is the best candidate to bear this powerful skill!

Upon hearing Moen's words, Lily's eyes widened slightly, expressing her excitement and anticipation.

Moen gestured for Lily to sit down on the edge of the bed and relax, then gently placed his right hand on her forehead.

[The person being inscribed, "Lisa Wilder," has been detected as your follower, meeting the requirements.]

[Destiny Track Engraving in Progress]

[The recipient's soul is insufficient to bear the current imprint skill. Begin imprinting?]

Moen regretfully lowered his hand. Before starting, he had been mentally prepared that Lily might not be able to handle it, but he thought that maybe he could give it a try.

Lily looked at Moen with a puzzled expression as he lowered his hand.

"I'm sorry, Lily."

Moen's tone carried a hint of helplessness: "Grandpa Gray's special training these past two days has been too intense. Just now, when I tried to mobilize my magic, the etheric circulation within my body suddenly became disordered."

"I might need to rest for a while to recover."

Lily has also been learning the basics of magic recently, and she knows that if she uses magic too frequently and depletes her magic power, she will be unable to use magic for a short period of time.

"Then brother, get some rest. I'll make you a cup of black tea. I've seen Sister Elwin drink it often." With that, Lily lightly jumped off the bed and left the room.

Moen heard the door close and sighed at how well-behaved Lily was, while also feeling that he might have been a bit too hasty.

After leisurely finishing the black tea that Lily had brewed in the room, Moen looked out the window. The sun had only just climbed over the snow-capped mountains; it was still early.

Why don't we go find Gray and ask him to teach me some simple skills?

Moen recently realized that while the functions such as exploration, gathering, and crafting were very simple when he was a player, these operations required precise perception after he transmigrated, and were far from being as simple as idiot-proof.

So I decided to ask Gray to teach me these more basic skills.

Having made the decision, Moen immediately took action, packed his bags, and headed to the address of the Trial Branch.

The guards at the gate were locals from Norhamville and knew Mohn, a local celebrity.

He told Moen that Lord Grey had gone out early in the morning, and he didn't know where he went, but suggested that he look for him at the tavern, as Lord Grey usually liked to drink alone.

After thanking the guard, Moen went straight to the town's largest tavern, but Gray wasn't there. After searching several taverns without success, Moen thought of a place where Gray might be.

The Black Rat Tavern was still the same as before. The rat hanging at the door had been replaced sometime earlier. There weren't many people in the tavern. The one-eyed orc bartender nodded and greeted Moen when he saw him.

Gray was sitting in a corner of the tavern, drinking alone, until Moen approached and noticed him.

"Hey kid, what are you doing here? This place is hard to find."

"A friend brought me here before," Moen casually made up a non-existent friend, then pulled out a chair and sat down.

He held a glass of black and white cocktail he had gotten from the bar; the bottom layer was thick rye beer, and the top layer was white strong liquor.

"Besides, I came here to learn some basic skills from you. I've been to all the taverns in town, so I came here to take a look."

The old knight looked up at the huge clock in the tavern; the hour hand pointed to ten o'clock in the morning.

"It's still early."

Gray refilled his empty glass: "Since you're here, have a drink with me."

Moen wasn't in a hurry, and it wouldn't hurt to keep the old man company with a drink.

Perhaps it was the dim lighting that made Gray lower his guard, or perhaps the alcohol numbed his tense nerves.

After a few drinks, Gray seemed to become more talkative.

"Actually, the best wine I've ever drunk in my life isn't the wolf blood of the North, nor the golden rose of the Holy City." Gremor stroked the rough wine glass, his eyes unfocused.

"That was forty years ago, the night I arrived in the Holy City from the North and became a reserve member of the Ring of Judgment."

"Back then, because I was from the North, no one in the reserve camp wanted to partner with me."

"The noble sons in the Holy City mocked me as a barbarian, telling me to go back to the North and not defile this sacred land."

Gray chuckled self-deprecatingly: "That night, I was sitting alone in a corner of the training field, all my fantasies about the outside world shattered, when someone walked over."

He handed me a pot of hot wine, without saying anything fancy, just one sentence: "Want some? Warm up."

Gray tilted his head back and downed the drink in one gulp.

"That man's name is François."

Moen paused slightly in the hand holding the cup.

François? The current Bishop of Noxsa? That seemingly cunning and treacherous old man?

"Isn't it ironic?"

Gray seemed to see through Moen's surprise: "Back then, he wasn't the wrinkled, cunning old man he is now."

"Back then, he didn't have any background and was also ostracized. We were two oddballs, and we drank in the snow all night."

"He didn't look down on me; he even invited me to team up with him in the future, saying that we would change this corrupt church."

The old man lowered his head, looking at the swaying reflection in the glass: "What a pity... people change, that pot of wine from back then has long since gone cold."

Moen remained silent, not interrupting the old man's reminiscence.

This is the cruelty of time; it can turn best friends into mortal enemies and passion into cold-bloodedness.

"Kid, you should leave tomorrow. I've taught you almost everything I can. If you stay here any longer, you're unlikely to make any progress."

"Take this with you to the North, that's where you'll truly shine." Gray pulled something from his pocket and gently placed it on the table.

Moen looked closely and saw that it was a badge made of black gold.

The badge was broken at one corner and covered with the marks of time, but the design was still faintly discernible—a giant wolf howling at the sky under a full moon, surrounded by inscriptions in the ancient northern language: [Winter has teeth, glory is silent.]

"This is..." Moen's pupils suddenly contracted.

Are there more experts?

In the lore of Blood and Wine, the Silver Wolves are an ancient clan that has become a legend.

Because the God of War and Valor, Magnus, bestows upon his followers not skills but bloodlines, they must awaken their bloodlines through constant battles and training to gain greater power.

So a thousand years ago, no one was willing to submit to anyone else, and the entire far north was in chaos, with numerous clans.

He was the ancestor of the Silver Wolf Clan, the man known as the First King, who single-handedly defeated the three other most powerful clans at the time, unified the far north, and established the basic order of the Iron Oath War Hall.

That first king reigned for a hundred years, leading the War Temple to drive out the trolls and barbarians who occupied the north, and accomplished many incredible feats.

However, according to historical records, he went alone to a forbidden area deep in the far north ice plains in the year 221 of the Holy Calendar and never returned.

Then came a new round of struggle for the throne, with a new king ascending the throne and the old clans being purged.

In recognition of the First King's illustrious achievements, the Silver Wolf Clan, having failed in their struggle for the position of Grand Commander, were exiled to the far north territory of Nifl, becoming the vanguard against the barbarians and trolls who had retreated to the ice plains.

As time passed, new bloodlines occupied high positions in the War Hall, and the four clans that now control the War Hall are no longer the same as they were a thousand years ago.

"Silver Wolf..." Moen murmured the name softly.

Gray glanced at Moen with some surprise, then smiled with a hint of drunkenness: "I didn't expect you to be so knowledgeable, recognizing this badge."

He reached out and stroked the chipped badge: "Take it. The Valgard name still carries some weight in the North."