This novel will soon stop being updated on this site. I'm an author who often writes on Webnovel, and this novel has already been offered a contract there, so I advise anyone who wants to continue reading this story to follow it there. Link below:

https://www.webnovel.com/book/i%E2%80%99m-a-immortal-tavernkeeper-but-my-s-rank-daughter-doesn%E2%80%99t-know-that!_28937374400234005

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On that cold morning of Wanda's twelfth birthday, Victor took her to a special place to introduce her to the last stage of her training. The last few years had been long and short at the same time, and while it had been very tiring for Victor to raise a girl on his own, she was growing up faster than he had imagined.

The sun was beginning to rise over the horizon, and its blinding light was beginning to bathe everything Victor and Wanda could see.

"Den? Essential Energy of Souls? What are you talking about, Dad?" Wanda turned her head slightly in Victor's direction, looking confused.

Victor raised a hand and extended it towards the sun. "Wanda, pay attention, the Den is a useful but subtle force, a web that interweaves everything in this world. It's in the trees, in the rivers, in living beings, and also within you and me," began Victor, with a solemn tone that reflected the importance of what he was saying.

Wanda blinked, trying to assimilate the information. She looked ahead again, where the sun was rising. "What do you mean? Is that thing in everything?"

"Yes, it's like the energy of the universe itself. However, it's more intense in living creatures than in anything else, perhaps because we can use it. When I was younger, a little older than you are now, I met a wise traveler on the road who revealed the secrets of the Den to me and..."

Victor's story was long, very long, and Wanda was used to hearing her father ramble on about his stories. However, the version of the story he told her that day wasn't exactly the true one. He concealed some facts and transformed others. In fact, he didn't meet the wise traveler on the road, but in a bar conversation, after Victor had taken everything the old man had to bet on the deck and the man had nothing left to offer, that is, nothing but his knowledge.

At the time, Victor was just a poor, weak young man. Like other boys his age and condition, he had no prospects in life, but he dreamed of one day at least getting married and having one or two children. However, this was not the plan that fate had for him.

"Anyway, that wise man taught me what Den was, how to feel that energy, how to manipulate it, how to use it to understand the world in a way that not many people can. I was skeptical at first and that got in the way, but in a world of monsters and magic, learning about a mysterious energy wasn't so ridiculous."

Wanda's eyes sparkled with curiosity, and she turned to her father with a mixture of excitement and respect. "And what is the Den for?"

"Controlling the Den is controlling the universe, only on a ridiculously small scale." Her expression wilted.

Her expression wilted. "And how do you do that?"

Victor smiled. "It takes time and practice, Wanda. It's a path that requires patience. But you're an elf, so you'll have plenty of time to learn. I believe that today, on your twelfth birthday, is the right time to start. You're mature enough to understand and distinguish what you're feeling inside."

He held out a hand to Wanda, and she looked at him expectantly before placing her hand over his. Victor closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating, and embraced that small hand of hers with the other.

"Breathe in and out slowly, and try to feel the pulse of the Den around you," Victor instructed, closing his eyes.

Wanda looked at her father hesitantly but breathed in as he said and closed her eyes too. At first, all she could feel was the wind ruffling her hair and a little chill, nothing more. However, after a few seconds she began to feel a subtle vibration in her ears, like when a metal object falls to the ground and reproduces that annoying ringing. She tried to focus on this vibration and then the tips of her fingers began to vibrate too, gradually becoming more intense.

"Ow!" she said when she opened her eyes and turned away. "That's... that's... INCREDIBLE!"

Victor looked proudly at her. "That's one of the forms of manifesting Den, and I'm not very good at it. It's called Manipulation Den." 

"So there are other forms, Dad?"

"Of course there are. Den can be manifested in six ways. There's the Den of Manipulation, Fortification, Modification, Creation, and Specialisation, plus another one that you'd better not know about right now so you don't get confused. Each one does something different. For example, I used my Den to temporarily manipulate the waves around you, so that means I used the Den of Manipulation." 

"Wow! That's really cool! That means it's up to you to show me the Den of Fortification, Modification, Specialisation, and Creation! Hmm! I wonder if I can use the Den to make myself fly!"

The old hunter laughed a little at the girl's excitement, because for a moment it seemed that all that rebellious adolescence had gone. "Maybe, but let's take it easy with your training. Den is not magic, so sooner or later you'll learn how far your control of Den can take you. But first, we need to understand what kind of Den you have the most affinity with."

"Affinity?"

"Yes, affinity. After all, each person is better at one aspect of something than another, just like fencing."

"Does that mean you have a type of Den you're better at? Hmm, let me guess... Fortification! It's about getting strong, isn't it?"

Victor crossed his arms and denied it with his head. "Contrary to what you might imagine, my strength comes only from my muscles. It's a bit disappointing, but the Fortification Den is the one I can control the least."

"What?! So which one are you better at?!"

Victor put a finger in front of his mouth and winked. "It's a secret." He replied.

Six years have passed since that day, years that have flown by like a breeze, and never did Victor Shieldman imagine that he would remember that day on the one day he had lived twice. 

Paralyzed from head to toe in front of a professional assassin, Victor opened his eyes and looked at Sable.

" Arara~ Don't look at me so greedily, otherwise you'll make me want to roll over and kill you, and time is something I don't like to waste." She said, swiveling around him. "But it would be so nice to hear you scream~"

"Why are you doing this?" Victor asked, his hoarse throat almost choking.

"Arh! We won't go into that again." She said impatiently. "I won't play your game, I know you want to buy time for your daughter to arrive."

"All right, all right, that's fine. But an old man deserves one last answer to one last question, right?"

Sable spun the swords round and stowed them in their back sheaths. Then she stopped in front of him, crossed her arms, and said:

"OK, I'll give you one last question before I choke you with my bare hands. But don't be as repetitive as before, don't keep asking about purpose and stuff. Money will always be my only answer."

Considering how sadistic Sable seemed to be, Victor knew that her claim that she only did all this for money was probably false, so any other answer could be too, but, as she said, he needed to buy a little more time.

"Why does Duke Olyno want Wanda dead? If I didn't know the nobility, I might assume it's because she's investigating the illegal slave scheme he's been sponsoring since he took over his father's title, but I'm well aware that things aren't usually that simple."

Sable squinted her eyes and thought before she spoke, for the greatest triumph for a good assassin is to have clients who trust you. She looked Victor over from head to toe, and finally said:

"Since you won't get away with it even if you try very hard, I'll tell you: it's not Olyno who wants your daughter's head, the poor chap is just a young nobleman and an idiot like most of them. He's being manipulated and used by the counselor himself, just like his father was. The slave-selling schemes in Kozáni have not been sponsored, but financed by Olyno's family for at least two generations."

"I see, that explains a lot." Victor said with his head down, not looking surprised. "Then I think I've got enough."

"What do you mean..."

It was then that Victor suddenly moved again, with a swift, sharp movement, raising his sword with a dexterity that surprised even the skillful assassin, who was standing with her arms crossed, weaponless, and guard down. The metal of Victor's blade shimmered in the dim light, cutting through the air with a high-pitched hum as it slashed toward Sable.

She barely had time to react, being so confident in the paralysis caused by the poison that she had injected into the old man's body. Her countenance oscillated between shock and dismay. For a moment, the blade of the sword flashed like lightning, coming close to her skin, and somehow she managed to sidestep it just barely.

"What... How...?" Sable's words escaped her in a stunned whisper, her senses still dulled by the surprise of the unexpected attack. She had one hand on her throat, because she imagined for a moment that she had been beheaded.

Victor, meanwhile, snapped his neck, his eyes fixed on the figure of the woman in front of him. 

"You underestimated me, Sable," he muttered, his rough voice laden with determination. "I've learned over the years that survival often depends on the ability to adapt, to find opportunities when others see only despair. I've molded my body to adapt to the most adverse situations, and that's what has kept me alive to this day. So of course I can handle paralysing poison."

When talking about adaptability, Victor Shieldman could be considered a monster. Being an expert in Den of Modification, Victor, from the moment he realized he was poisoned, modified himself so that his organs were concentrated as much as possible to dilute the poison in his bloodstream as quickly as possible and the effects of the poison almost disappeared.

Sable stepped back, her lips tightening in an expression of displeasure and disbelief. She wasn't used to encountering opponents as persistent as this grey-haired man. She drew both swords and then said:

"You're a fool, Victor Shieldman!" Her words hissed between clenched teeth. "Do you think you can defy me and get away with it? No matter what you do, your fate is already sealed and..."

"Shut up, child." Victor ordered, interrupting her. "When you were just learning to crawl, I was already tired of being stained with blood. When you killed your first human, I already had a pile of bodies at my feet. And when my daughter fought you, she took it easy because, although she'd lost her friend, she wanted answers and clemency, but I already have all the answers I want, and what's worse: I'm bloodthirsty."

Sable instinctively recoiled at the oppressive aura that washed over her at that moment. For some time she had forgotten, but at that moment she remembered what that informant had told her that day.

The hooded man was accompanied by two other mysterious men in the forest, and before he left he emphasized one thing:

"Don't make the rookie mistake of neglecting the secondary characters and focusing only on killing the protagonist. The target's father is the White Bear, a legend in the South, and if you're not careful you'll be headless before you can say 'Lamia' twice."