**Question:** When can a person think in their calmest state?

**Answer:** post-nut clarity.

In fact, Roswitha rarely experiences such moments of clarity after turning in their assignments with Leon.

There were times when even after battling all night with no sleep, she would still get up and head to the study to continue working overtime.

But today was different. Unlocking the First Gate had transformed Leon into a warrior god, so much so that he had forcibly subdued the Silver Dragon Queen into a post-coital state of reflection.

Now, the two lay in bed without hints of drowsiness or the inclination for further intimacy.

For the pair, pondering over various topics had always been a reliable way to kill time.

Leaning against the headboard, Leon had his hands clasped behind his head as his gaze landed on "Nine Hells Gate", a book that had been kicked to the foot of the bed during their earlier “clash.”

Blinking a few times, he crawled over, grabbed the book, and returned to his spot against the headboard.

“Something about this book just came to mind,” Leon said, flipping through its pages.

Beside him, Roswitha casually tidied her disheveled hair. The strap of her nightgown dangled precariously on her shoulder. “What’s so strange about it?”

“It says here that to unlock the First Gate, assistance from someone with Dragon King-level power is required.”

Roswitha nodded. “Yes, isn’t that why you asked for my help tonight?”

“But this ancient book was smuggled from the Empire by my master, who risked his life to obtain it.”

“Hmm... So?”

Sitting upright, Leon opened the book wide to emphasize his point. “So why is a martial art system created by humans using Dragon King as a metric to measure power?”

Roswitha paused her grooming for a moment. Her thoughts naturally followed Leon’s doubts. “True. By human standards, wouldn’t it make sense to use letters like ‘S’ or ‘A’ to indicate power levels?”

Leon nodded. “Exactly. And a term like ‘Dragon King-level’ has such a strong implication.”

He paused briefly, muttering in a low voice, “Because my master knew I had you, a Dragon King, by my side, he entrusted me with this book, believing I could master it. But what about other practitioners? How could they possibly find someone with Dragon King-level power for assistance?”

Achieving a Dragon King’s level of strength in a human body was no trivial feat.

Throughout human history, those who reached Dragon King-level strength were either already long dead or had retreated into hiding, no longer involved in worldly affairs.

As for someone like General Lai, whose power could rival or even surpass that of a Dragon King as an ultra-rare super SSR(a rare rank in gacha games), such figures only emerged once in hundreds or even thousands of years.

So... this so-called *Nine Hells Gate* martial art didn’t seem like it was tailored for humanity at all.

Why, then, would the creator of *Nine Hells Gate* design such a dangerous and highly inaccessible practice in the first place?

"You don’t suppose...”

After a brief silence, Roswitha suddenly spoke up. “...that humans did not create this martial art, but rather... by someone from the Dragon Clan?”

Leon momentarily froze at her suggestion.

Roswitha’s theory wasn’t without merit.

As he’d just mentioned, the term “Dragon King-level” was extraordinarily specific.

But this specificity was only strange from a human perspective.

If the practitioner were from the Dragon Clan, then the term “Dragon King-level” would seem perfectly natural and logical.

Every race had its unique system for quantifying power.

As Roswitha had pointed out, humans typically used grades like "S" or "A."

While the Dragon Clan sometimes borrowed human systems, in many instances, they preferred terminology such as "Dragon King-level," "Quasi-Dragon King-level," or "Above Dragon King-level"—terms whose meaning was self-evident.

“So, my master handed me a Dragon Clan martial art system and told me to train with it?”

Leon was amused. “Does that mean I’ll grow a tail? Please, let that never happen!”

Roswitha chuckled and gave his behind a playful kick. “What’s so wrong with a tail? Tails are great!”

With a dead-serious look, Leon replied, word by word, “They are not.”

“Pffft, of course you’d think that. You’ve never experienced the joy of having a tail!” Roswitha scoffed, her long silver tail curling proudly as the tip swayed ever so slightly. “You’ll never understand how wonderful it feels to have one.”

“Thank you for your kind blessing, Miss Melkevi.”

Roswitha shot him a fleeting glare but refrained from continuing their banter. Steering the conversation back to *Nine Hells Gate*, she offered, “You know, there’s actually a simple way to confirm whether this martial art was developed by humans or the Dragon Clan.”

“What’s that?”

Roswitha gestured towards the book in his hands with a nod. “You could just look up the author’s name.”

Leon rolled his eyes. “Roswitha, you’ve lived over two hundred years. Don’t tell me you still don’t know that in cases like this, the author of a book and the creator of a technique are rarely the same person.”

This was a widely adopted practice across various races.

One reason was to protect the creators’ privacy and safety.

Another was that many creators excelled in combat but were terrible at organizing their theories into coherent written records. They often required someone else to compile their findings into books to ensure their techniques were passed down.

Of course, there were exceptions—some developers didn’t bother with anonymity at all. They wrote and published their methods themselves, cutting out any middlemen.

Roswitha shrugged. “Of course I know that. My point is, even if the author and the technique’s creator aren’t the same person, surely they belong to the same race?”

Leon chuckled softly, tossing the book onto Roswitha’s lap. “I checked earlier today. The author is someone I’d never heard of.”

Roswitha flipped to the first page of the book, where the name of the author was inscribed:

**Claudia Poseidon.**

The name itself wasn’t particularly noteworthy, but the surname made Roswitha’s spine tingle.

Her gaze locked onto the word “Poseidon,” unable to look away.

Noticing her reaction, Leon gently nudged her shoulder and called her name. “Hey, Roswitha? You okay?”

“Ah? Oh, yes. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

Leon glanced at the author’s name again before asking, “Do you know this author?”

Pushing her hair behind her ear, Roswitha said hesitantly, “Not exactly... but I know a little about this author’s surname.”

“The surname? Poseidon?” Leon echoed. “I noticed it earlier as well. It must be rare—I’ve never met anyone with that name.”

Roswitha offered a faint, bitter smile. “Of course you haven’t, you idiot. That’s because... it’s a Dragon Clan surname.”

At her words, Leon’s brows shot up in surprise. After a brief pause, he let out a soft, knowing “Oh.”

“So... it really is a Dragon Clan technique, then,” he mused.

“But why would a Dragon Clan martial art system end up being stored in the human Empire?”

“Probably stolen as spoils after defeating someone from the Dragon Clan? That kind of thing happens all the time, doesn’t it?” Leon suggested.

Roswitha bit her lip. “No, that doesn’t seem likely.”

“Hm? Why not?”

“Because Poseidon is the surname of the royal family of the Sea Dragon Clan. And the Sea Dragon Clan... haven’t been seen in thirty years. How could they have been defeated?”

Her statement plunged the room into silence.

The couple simultaneously lowered their gaze to the worn *Nine Hells Gate* book.

A flood of questions surged into Leon’s mind.

How had his master obtained a martial art system created by the Sea Dragon Clan, a group that had been missing for three decades?

Was it really smuggled out of the Empire under dangerous circumstances, as his master had claimed?

If his master had lied about the origins of "Nine Hells Gate", what was his true motive?

And who was the person that had provided this book to his master in the first place?