Transmigration: The Tyrant General Can Hear My Thoughts

Chapter 223: Chapter Two Hundred And Twenty Two

The deep underground training arena was quiet. Dozens of bright orange torches burned in their iron brackets on the walls, casting long, dancing shadows across the massive, open space. The sand on the floor was undisturbed, except for the area in the center where Camilla was practicing.

She stood in the middle of the arena, wearing her training clothes. Her red curly hair was tied back tightly into a high ponytail, swinging behind her head with every movement. In her right hand, she held a long steel sword. The polished metal blade gleamed brightly under the flickering torchlight.

Camilla took a step forward, her boot sinking slightly into the soft sand. She twisted her waist, swung the sword in a fast, horizontal arc, and then thrust the sharp tip directly into the empty air.

Whoosh.

The sound of the blade slicing through the air was sharp and clear. Camilla let out a soft, steady breath. She was sweating. A thin layer of moisture covered her forehead and her neck, making her skin look shiny. Her muscles felt slightly sore, but she ignored the discomfort. She was determined to rebuild the physical strength of this weak noble body. She needed to be fast. She needed to be strong.

She took a deep breath, preparing to launch into another set of strikes. She raised her sword, her body perfectly balanced in the sand.

But suddenly, the air behind her shifted.

It was a very tiny, almost unnoticeable change in the wind. A normal person would never have felt it. But Camilla was not a normal person.

Her assassin instincts, which had been trained through years of dangerous, life-or-death missions, were sharp. She felt a cold prickle of warning on the very back of her neck.

Someone was standing behind her.

Camilla’s body reacted on pure, lightning-fast reflex.

She spun her body around violently on her right foot. The sand kicked up in a small circle around her boot. As she turned, she swung her right arm with speed.

Shing.

The sharp steel blade of her sword flew through the air, stopping when the cold metal tip was pressed directly against the soft skin of a man’s throat.

The tip of her sword was just a fraction of an inch away from his windpipe.

Camilla froze. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw who she was pointing her weapon at.

It was Damon.

He had come down to the secret underground arena. He had tried to enter the room silently. He had wanted to stand in the shadows and watch her train without being noticed.

Damon did not draw his own sword. He did not try to block her sudden strike. He stood perfectly still, his broad shoulders squared under his grey training shirt. He raised both of his large, leather-gloved hands slowly in the air, offering a gesture of surrender.

Damon looked down at the sharp steel tip pressing against his neck. Then, he slowly raised his eyes. He looked directly into her face.

A very warm, genuine, and handsome smile spread slowly across his lips.

"It’s me," Damon said. His deep voice was very soft and carried a gentle, teasing rumble.

Camilla stared at his smiling face. Her heart gave a sudden, hard thump against her ribs, but she quickly forced her face to become a blank, calm mask. She slowly lowered her hand, pulling the sharp blade away from his throat.

She slid the steel sword smoothly back into the leather sheath hanging at her waist.

Clack.

Camilla looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and genuine curiosity.

"How do you do that?" Camilla asked. Her voice was calm and steady, but she genuinely wanted to know his secret.

Damon slowly brought his hands down from the air. He rested them casually behind his back. The warm smile remained on his face.

"It is part of the first thing a recruit learns," Damon explained smoothly. His eyes searched her face. "To be completely unnoticeable to the enemy."

He spoke with confidence. He had spent his entire life learning how to survive on dangerous battlefields. To him, stealth was not a game; it was a basic skill of survival.

Camilla looked at his broad chest. She nodded her head slowly.

"That’s impressive," Camilla said out loud. Her voice was polite and respectful.

But inside her head, her internal thoughts were much, much louder.

"Very impressive," Camilla’s mind spoke clearly. Her internal voice was filled with a deep, honest sense of wonder. "I am a professional. I have spent my whole life training to sense danger. And yet, he managed to walk all the way down those stone stairs, cross the sand, and stand right behind my back without me even noticing until the very last second. His stealth skills are absolutely top-tier. He is a truly dangerous man."

Damon stood in the sand, looking at her.

He heard her compare his skills to her own professional standards.

Damon’s heart gave a sudden leap of joy inside his chest.

A bright, hot flush of embarrassment and pride rushed straight up his neck, turning his cheeks a very light shade of pink. He felt incredibly happy. He was used to his soldiers fearing him, but hearing his wife praise his skills so sincerely in her own mind made him feel more powerful than winning a war.

He quickly tried to hide his blushing face by changing the subject.

"You didn’t go for your business today?" Damon asked. His deep voice was soft and carried a genuine curiosity. He looked at her simple training clothes.

Camilla nodded her head slowly. She reached out and adjusted the leather grip of her sheathed sword.

"Yes," Camilla replied calmly. "There was no need to go."

She had finished all the urgent business with Allen the day before. The cargo wagons were secured and the money was safe. She had absolutely no reason to leave the mansion today.

Damon looked at her.

Hearing her simple answer, a sudden, beautiful thought filled his mind.

"She stayed for me," Damon thought to himself, his heart swelling with a wave of warm affection.

A wide happy smile broke out across his face. His eyes sparkled with joy. He believed she had skipped her shopping and her business just to remain in the house with him. He felt like the most important man in the entire world.

Camilla stood in the sand. She looked at his face.

She noticed that his smile was getting wider and wider. In fact, ever since he had entered the underground arena, he had not stopped smiling at her. He looked completely different from his usual, cold, grumpy self.

Camilla’s delicate eyebrows pulled together in deep, suspicious confusion. She did not like this sudden change in his behavior. It felt very weird.

"My Lord," Camilla said, her voice sharp and serious.

Damon immediately looked at her. He smiled even wider, his eyes filled with gentle warmth.

"Yes, My Lady?" Damon replied sweetly, his voice as smooth as warm honey.

Camilla took a slow step closer to him. She stared directly into his eyes, looking for any signs of madness.

"Is your face broken?" Camilla asked bluntly. Her voice was flat and serious.

Damon completely froze. He blinked his eyes slowly. The happy smile on his face faltered for a tiny fraction of a second.

"I don’t understand," Damon said, his voice full of genuine confusion.

Camilla gestured with her hand toward his lips.

"You have been smiling since morning,"

Camilla explained, her tone carrying a heavy layer of deep doubt. "You look like a completely different person. Did something happen to your head when you fell down from your horse yesterday? Did the hard stones break something inside your brain?"

Damon’s wide, happy smile slowly, very slowly, vanished entirely from his face.

The warm light in his dark brown eyes faded, replaced quickly by a look of soft, quiet, and slightly hurt disappointment. He looked at her calm, blank face.

"But you told me to smile more often," Damon said softly. His deep voice carried a very clear, honest sincerity. He was speaking the truth. He remembered her words from last night. He had been practicing his smile all morning just to please her.

Camilla blinked her eyes rapidly in shock.

She stood frozen in the soft sand. Her brain stopped working for a few seconds. She could not believe what she was hearing.

"You are doing what I told you to?" Camilla asked very slowly. Her voice was filled with total bewilderment.

She stared at him. The great, terrifying Tyrant General, the man who commanded thousands of soldiers, the man who chopped off traitors’ heads without blinking, was actually changing his daily habits just because she had casually told him to smile more. It was the most ridiculous, most unexpected thing she had ever heard.