As soon as Olivia entered the room, she placed the flowers by the bed. Her face still held its usual shyness, but the wariness of a young animal seemed to have been worn down by the past few days of her Trial.

It was likely because they hadn’t seen each other in days, and in that time, she had learned about the man’s recent exploits from newspapers and local rumors.

She gave Baron a reserved nod. "Mr. L."

When Baron patted her head just as he always had, the Little Nun finally broke into a relieved smile. But when she saw the bandages wrapped around his torso, her expression turned to one of concern.

"Mr. L, your injuries..."

Thanks to the Witch’s Magic Card and the Super Healing Power of the Dragon Knight and Blood Faction classes, Baron now felt only a little anemic. Aside from some pain when he moved, the wounds on his shoulders were no longer a major issue.

He had just begun to say, "I’m fine..."

The Little Nun suddenly said, "Mr. L, let me heal your injuries."

Before Baron could even react, the Little Nun had sliced open her palm. She brought it to his lips before the blood could even drip, saying, "Mr. L, please open your mouth..."

He didn’t need her to ask. Spurred by the bloodthirsty instinct within him, L opened his mouth almost subconsciously. If not for the reason still restraining him, he would have grabbed the Little Nun’s hand and begun to suckle greedily.

’No, something’s not right. Why is her blood so tempting to me...?’

Baron tasted the fresh blood that dripped onto the tip of his tongue. He felt it was the sweetest liquid in the world, even sweeter than iced tea that had been chilling in the refrigerator for three days.

"I have become a Blood Nun... Within the Blood Church, my blood receives the blessing of the Blood God. When people drink it, they will receive happiness."

The Little Nun said softly, "This is Blood Therapy, Mr. L."

But Baron wasn’t listening at all. His pupils were dilated. The taste for blood, long since stolen from him by the Taboo Items, was now faintly re-emerging, pulled forth by his inner bloodthirsty instinct.

Even that slightest taste was so overwhelming it nearly made him choke.

’No, I can’t. I have to distract myself. I can’t fall to this... If I’m overwhelmed by the craving for blood, then according to the books, I’ll eventually degenerate into a Blood Demon...’

Baron fought back the craving and pushed the Little Nun’s hand away, his voice hoarse. "That’s enough... Your blood has already helped my body recover for the most part... Any more of this, and I won’t even need to eat lunch."

Her face a little pale from the blood loss, the Little Nun clutched the wound on her palm and said, "As long as I can be of help to you, Mr. L..."

"You’ve already done more than enough. From now on, you need to take good care of yourself."

As he said this, Baron reluctantly tore his gaze away from the Little Nun’s palm and moved it to the bouquet of flowers she had brought.

They appeared to be wildflowers from a mountain stream, a colorful mix. Most were a small flower called the Dragon Chrysanthemum. These were predominantly red, with golden-black centers resembling a dragon’s pupil, hence their other name: Dragon Eye Chrysanthemum.

It was said that a long time ago, these flowers only grew in places inhabited by Giant Dragons, making them very rare.

This attracted many adventurers who went to Giant Dragon’s Nests to pick them. In the past, Haiwede had even experienced an invisible economic war that erupted over these flowers.

However, flower merchants later began to cultivate the flower in large quantities, leading to a surplus. Eventually, the "Dragon Chrysanthemum bubble" was popped.

Noticing Baron’s gaze fixed on the flowers, Olivia explained, "These flowers were sent by Mr. Al..."

’Al... That name sounds familiar... Isn’t that the little maid Hira’s childhood friend?’

Baron was suddenly reminded of all the chaotic events that had taken place in Mundra.

"He’s in Fude City, too?"

Olivia hesitated for a moment. "Al sent these flowers on behalf of Miss Hira. He came to Fude City because he wants to become a Demon Hunter..."

"A Demon Hunter?" Baron said. "A Demon Hunter, huh."

He remembered the scene when the kid had faced Savi and his gang, refusing to back down even half a step in order to protect Hira.

After a moment of silence, he said, "If Al wants to become a Demon Hunter, then please tell him to go to the Hunter Association and just mention my name."

The Little Nun left, and once again, Baron was alone in the room.

Feeling bored, he picked up the newspaper from the table and opened it. From the very first glance, he couldn’t look away.

A massive, moving picture showed him drawing his gun and charging the army’s formation. Below it was a headline in large, sensationalized artistic font: "Hunting Competition Champion Charges City Garrison! All in the Name of Eradicating the Immortal!"

He turned the page. The accompanying picture showed him riding back to the city with Yalilan to confront the deputy chief, standing on horseback while holding Miss Triss tightly in his arms.

In Baron’s words, the caption could be summarized as: Demon Hunter L saves the people of Fude City from dire straits, while the tyrannical King Feinan persecutes the loyal and true!

While the praise made Baron a little embarrassed, he also silently mourned for the scapegoat, King Feinan, for a few seconds.

’After all, he is a king. Forgiving a commoner would be a good way to display some royal magnanimity, right?’

He turned another page. This side of the paper was reporting on the last Hunting Competition, detailing his confrontation with the show-off Sun Knight, Gawain, and the latter’s "three kneels."

Objectively speaking, Baron felt that if he hadn’t gotten lucky, he would have had a very hard time defeating Gawain, given the strength the latter had displayed earlier.

But as luck would have it, it was a fluke. His opponent just so happened to be an Azure Fire Dragon Knight, and he just so happened to be a Red Dragon Knight.

’Luck is a part of skill, too.’

Just as Baron was about to turn to the next page, he suddenly seemed to notice something, and his gaze froze on the byline for the article’s reporter.