The God-Possessed Swordsmanship Genius - Chapter 11

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Sword Genius Blessed by a Spirit, Chapter 11

* * *

Allen went looking for a coachman.
Saving travel time and squeezing in whatever cultivation he could was far more efficient than walking, so hiring a carriage made the most sense.
The coachman was a middle-aged man with a pleasant, trustworthy face.

“Where are you headed?”
“Let’s go to the Billerman Viscounty in the Owen Kingdom.”

The Billerman Viscounty sat in the north of the Owen Kingdom. Even with the carriage pushing hard, the journey would take a good three days.

“That’ll be two Gold.”

Renting a carriage was expensive, as expected. Two Gold was a commoner’s monthly living expenses.
Allen had exchanged his platinum coins for ordinary gold coins, and he paid without a second thought.

Inside the carriage, Allen repeated the cycle of using the Cultivation Method to dissolve Mana and make it his own.

‘So it’s inevitable that my progress slows down.’

Stats grew harder to gain the higher they climbed. Everything advances quickly at first, but at some point it hits a plateau, and this was no different.
Allen quickly smothered the regret welling up inside him. Greed was a monster with no bottom once you let it loose.

‘This is more than enough.’

Not long ago, a single drop of Mana would have been all he could ever ask for. By a stroke of luck and a fortunate encounter, he had escaped that curse and gained this much Mana. He couldn’t afford to be greedy.

Shaking off the regret, Allen closed his eyes once more and continued his cultivation.
He sank so deeply into it that he no longer felt the carriage jolting beneath him.

* * *

Late at night, when they stopped to camp by the road, the coachman built a campfire.
As the coachman pulled hard bread from his supplies, intending to make a meal of it, Allen walked over to him.

“Would you like to eat with me?”

The coachman began to decline, but his eyes landed on the food and drink.
Smoked meat, cheese that looked of fine quality, dried fruit, and a wine with an appealing aroma.
For a campsite, it was a remarkably luxurious spread.
Seeing the coachman hesitate, Allen added a few words.

“It’d be dull eating and drinking alone. I’ll make a stew, too.”
“If you insist on going that far…”

It had been ages since he’d seen proper food and drink. The coachman didn’t put up a second refusal.
Allen cooked for the coachman as well. He simmered smoked chicken in stock and soaked bread in it until it was warm through.
Stew and bread, smoked meat with cheese, and a fragrant wine besides.
With such a fine spread, even this wretched campsite began to feel rather pleasant.

“Ahh, I can’t remember the last time I had warm food and drink like this.”
“You must be earning plenty, though, right? And you already paid me that money.”
“I borrowed a lot of money to buy this carriage. Between the interest, the repairs, and everything else, it’s tighter than you’d think.”
“Oh! I didn’t know that. I thought all coachmen were rich.”
“Because they’re so expensive, people tend to get that idea. The truly wealthy are the customers who ride in these fancy carriages, though.”

The coachman went on, recounting the peculiar passengers he’d had over the years.
There were the ones who skipped out on the fare after stepping off the carriage, the ones who looked down on him for being a mere driver, and the ones who threw a tantrum after arriving at their destination, insisting it wasn’t the place.

“Still, now and then a passenger as handsome and fine as you comes along, and that’s what keeps a man in this line of work, isn’t it?”
“You’re shy about asking for another drink, aren’t you? Here, let me pour you one more.”
“Oh my, thank you kindly!”

Allen poured with a broad grin. The two of them laughed and chattered as though they’d known each other for years rather than meeting only today.

Was it because the long war against the Demon Race had worn his heart down?
Allen simply enjoyed this, laughing and talking with people. Even those rough, wicked bandits had felt almost welcome, so a meal with the coachman was hardly unpleasant.

“Then of all the passengers you’ve carried, which was the worst?”

The coachman brightened at Allen’s question.
Where else would a passenger address a coachman as “elder”? Even if it was only words, he felt like someone truly important.

“Well, they weren’t exactly passengers, but… have you ever heard of the Cheolswae Society?”
“The Cheolswae Society?”

Allen tilted his head as though he had no idea.
The coachman carried on.

“They’re a vicious bunch who’ve set up shop in a village just over this mountain. Honestly, the debt I’m drowning in from buying this carriage is their fault. If I’d known the money was theirs, I’d never have borrowed a single coin.”
“Are they moneylenders?”
“That’s not all they do. Human trafficking, arms smuggling, even rape. Foul, low-down scum, the lot of them.”

In the firelight, the coachman’s face flushed red. The liquor rose to his head, and with it, his anger. Before he knew it, he was spilling things he’d never normally say.

“Take my case. The interest is several times the principal. Can you believe it? Just the other day, they told me if I couldn’t pay up, they’d take the carriage. Then what am I supposed to live on?”

For a while he kept pouring out his grievances and fury, until he suddenly realized what he was doing and felt a jolt of alarm.
He’d been fed food and liquor and had gone on far too long about his own misfortunes. Nobody wants to hear that sort of thing over a meal.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been talking about myself far too much.”
“Not at all. Have another drink.”
“I only wish every passenger were a proper gentleman like you. But what business does a man like you have in the Billerman Viscounty?”

The coachman hurriedly turned the conversation back to Allen. He had come bearing liquor and seeking him out, so surely he must want to talk about himself, the coachman figured.

“I heard there’s a newly discovered dungeon out that way.”
“Oh, dear. Since you seem like a decent sort, I’ll say this: that place is dangerous. They say dozens of adventurers have already died there.”

By this time, the dungeon’s notoriety had apparently begun to spread through the area around Billerman.
But the more dangerous a place became, the more adventurers flocked to it in search of greater treasure.

“Did you come because you heard rumors there might be treasure in there?”

Allen had no ready answer, so he nodded. Sure enough, the coachman waved his hand dismissively.

“Oh, that’s all nonsense. Viscount Billerman has been plagued by that dungeon, so he deliberately spread those rumors himself.”
“I’d just like to see with my own eyes whether there’s any treasure or not. Please think of it as the curiosity of a young fool.”

When Allen answered like that, it was the coachman who ended up feeling embarrassed.

“Ah, no, no. This fool overstepped. Who am I to go saying such things to a gentleman…?”

The coachman slapped his own mouth, scolding himself for his loose tongue.

“Anyway, since you’ve been kind enough to share such fine liquor, I’ll hurry along even faster tomorrow.”
“Thank you. But first, there’s somewhere I need to stop.”
“Stop? Where to?”
“Take me to the Cheolswae Society.”

At Allen’s answer, the coachman’s face went blank.

“W-why there…?”
“I’ve been given an errand by my father.”
“Your father sent you on an errand to the Cheolswae Society?”

The coachman shook his head, insisting it couldn’t be true.

“Your father must not know what sort of wretches those people are!”

Allen, who had been drinking, burst out laughing. Dangerous? Dangerous to whom?

“Don’t you worry.”

A smile settled on Allen’s face, lit by the campfire.

“No harm will come to you, old man.”

* * *

Osbal, the head of the Cheolswae Society, was a massive man with a coarse, unkempt beard.
In the enormous warehouse that served as the society’s stronghold, he sat a middle-aged woman down and smiled.

“Why are you so frightened?”
“I-I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”

Her trembling body was split and bruised in places. Her hair had come out in clumps, and her eyes were swollen shut.
The marks of a beating she had endured all the way here.

“Why would you run off like that? Anyone seeing this would think we’re the villains. You’re the one who came to us to borrow the money, mind you.”

At Osbal’s words, the woman nodded vigorously.
But she was wronged.

‘If I’d known it was your money, I never would have borrowed it!’

At first, the Cheolswae Society had lied about who they were. They pretended to be a respectable trading house, and the place where they lent the money wasn’t a warehouse like this one but a far more presentable building.
Because of her husband’s illness, the woman had no choice but to borrow money urgently. But once she had taken the loan, they turned on her in an instant.
They skimmed off what they called “advance interest,” doctored the contracts, and began collecting through every vicious method they could devise.

“I did wrong. I did wrong, so… please… please forgive me…”
“Don’t do that, madam. It seems there’s been some misunderstanding. We aren’t that sort of people.”

At his kind tone, which didn’t match his appearance, a flicker of hope crossed the woman’s face.
Then Osbal, who had been playing the good man, transformed into a devil.

“We’re worse than that.”
“…!”

The Cheolswae men watching the scene snickered and laughed.
Their boss was the kind of man who took pleasure in trampling on someone’s hope.

“I hear you have a daughter.”

The woman started in alarm.

“H-how did you… know that?”
“Did you really think we’d lend money out of the goodness of our hearts?”

Osbal glanced at a subordinate standing nearby. As if he’d been waiting for the cue, the man rattled off the woman’s details without a pause.

“Name: Meiran. Came over from Biol County ten years ago. Borrowed five gold to pay for her husband’s medicine. She has an eight-year-old daughter and a sickly old mother. By all accounts, she’s been devoted to her mother since she was a girl.”

With each word, despair spread deeper across the woman’s face.
Osbal, still grinning from ear to ear, studied her expression and asked,

“So, you still want to run?”
“N-no! Never! I would never!”
“Good, that’s the right answer. Mark my words. If you don’t bring the money within three days, we’ll sell your daughter off. Your husband will be crippled, and your mother… well, we’ll put her in the ground.”

Tears welled in the woman’s eyes.
Just imagining such a scene made her stomach turn and her heart ache. It felt as though she had fallen into a truly horrific hell.

“Just once, please, just this once! I’m begging you!”
“Honestly, it’s always us who get stiffed on the debts, so I don’t get why we’re the ones cast as the bad guys. Right, boys?”
“That’s right!”
“I’ll do anything, please!”
“Anything? Then can we take your daughter and sell her instead?”
“No! That innocent child… how could you…!”

Creeeak.

It was then that the rusted door of the warehouse swung open.
Sunlight spilled in through the wide-open doorway. In an instant, the noisy warehouse fell silent.
The one who stepped inside was a young boy.
His clothes were of a fine, luxurious cut, and his face had the bearing of a young nobleman.
It was Allen.

“Looks like I’ve walked in on something busy.”

At the sight of Allen so suddenly appearing, Osbal felt a strange unease.
The first thing that caught his eye was the sword hanging at the boy’s waist.

‘A swordsman?’

Judging by his looks and bearing, he was most likely some noble’s son.
Given the sword at his hip, he must have trained with a blade, but his frame was slight, and he didn’t look like anyone particularly formidable.

‘Still a brat who smells of milk.’

That was Osbal’s conclusion.
Above all, his youthful appearance, as though he had only just come of age, was the deciding factor.

“Hey, kid, where are you from?”

He might well be of truly high birth, but Osbal decided to come on strong anyway.
A man who had lived a rough life as a street tough, he held the belief that showing weakness to anyone meant being devoured.
Still, as far as he was concerned, that had been about as polite a question as he could manage.

“You know, I just don’t like your kind.”

The reply had nothing whatsoever to do with his question.

Creak.

Closing the door Allen had opened behind him, he spoke.

“They think nothing of killing people’s lives and souls, or toying with them.”

Thud.
Clack.

He shut the door and slid the bolt home.
With the door firmly closed, Allen advanced on Osbal, drawing his sword as he came.

Shing.

“Above all else—”

Osbal could not understand a word of what Allen said next.

“Because creatures like you are exactly what become Mains.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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