The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 412

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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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Chapter 412

I bit the inside of my cheek. The Sword Ghost’s frigid gaze felt like it was splitting my heart in two, but I endured it by channeling the Ring of Fire.

‘This person is the real deal.’

It wasn’t a surge of momentum or the operation of aura. Merely through presence alone, he created such overwhelming pressure—the epithet “Sword Ghost” that had shaken the entire Continent was no exaggeration.

‘But….’

What was that flicker in his eyes I kept catching?

Despite the Sword Ghost holding an overwhelmingly dominant position in every aspect—not just martial prowess and mental fortitude—his gaze seemed to ripple faintly, like a stone cast into still water.

“Your momentum and confidence are certainly worthy of the epithet White Dragon Swordmaster.”

The Sword Ghost nodded. His gaze, unlike moments before, remained perfectly still, as if weighted down by stone.

“Good. I’ll accept that wager.”
“It’s not quite a wager, sir.”

I shook my head while meeting the Sword Ghost’s eyes.

“As a junior walking the path of the sword, I simply wished to witness my senior’s blade.”
“You’ve dropped all your arrogance, yet your tongue still wags so smoothly!”

Mustan glared at me with the savage eyes of a predator stalking prey.

“Your blade will never reach our master. It will end before me.”

He abandoned the courtesy he’d maintained and ground his teeth, speaking in crude language.

“That’s something only crossed blades can reveal, isn’t it?”

I met Mustan’s fierce gaze with a faint smile.

‘I’m sorry, but I can’t waste this golden opportunity on you alone.’

Mustan may not yet have a reputation, but he possesses the martial prowess befitting the title of Sword Ghost’s Disciple. Fighting him would yield much of value.

However, at my current level of cultivation, crossing blades with the Sword Ghost even once would undoubtedly grant far deeper enlightenment.

It wasn’t that I was dismissing Mustan—I simply wanted to seize the better opportunity.

“Very well. Draw your sword. Right now—”
“Enough.”

The Sword Ghost raised his hand just as Mustan reached for his blade.

“He is not yet at full strength.”

From a single glance, he could discern that my martial power had not fully recovered.

“Two days should suffice, then?”
“Yes.”

Thanks to my elevated level of Sloth, I could recover in a single day, but I needed time to acclimate to my increased power, so I nodded in agreement.

“Then we shall meet two days hence, at noon.”

The Sword Ghost turned on his heel and returned to the Dormitory.

Mustan did not follow him, instead glaring at me with his lips pressed into a thin line.

“I will never lose to you.”

His eyes gleamed with a murderous intensity born of resentment before he turned and followed the Sword Ghost.

I narrowed my eyes as I watched Mustan depart.

‘Why is he so angry?’

It’s not merely because I requested a match with the Sword Ghost.

From our first meeting, Mustan had cast sharp glances my way, and even now, his tone carried unmistakable malice.

‘He clearly despised me before we ever faced each other.’

I couldn’t understand why she would react that way when we’d never met before.

-It’s jealousy, isn’t it?

Wrath snorted, saying that even as a human, I couldn’t recognize another’s emotions.

-In any case, you’re hardly human at all.
‘Jealousy? Why would she be jealous of me?’

It made no sense that someone in an enviable position as the Sword Ghost’s Disciple would harbor jealousy toward others.

-Jealousy is one of humanity’s ugliest instincts. The reason behind it matters little.

Wrath muttered that it was surely some trivial reason, and urged me to wash up quickly and go eat.

‘Jealousy, then…’

Perhaps that was it.

Humans rarely understand their own emotions well. It was possible she herself didn’t know why she was angry.

‘Still, thanks to her, I gained the opportunity to spar with the Sword Ghost.’

I washed the mud from my hands and face, then made my way toward the Main Street where the festival was in full swing.

Much time had passed, and those intoxicated by drink were scattered throughout, enjoying the festivities.

At the long table Dorian had set up, not only the Gale Wind Squad but also Milend, Borini Kitten, Morel, and Trevin had gathered to raise their cups.

‘Everyone’s here.’

I approached the table with a faint smile.

“Where in the world have you been wandering off to?”

Rimer, his face flushed from drink, frowned at me.

“You should come straight over and pour a drink for your squad leader!”
“Yes, yes.”

I ignored the drunk man and took a seat beside Milend.

“Lord of the Castle, thank you for your assistance.”

I poured wine into Milend’s empty glass and bowed my head respectfully.

“How many times are you going to say that?”

Milend shook his head as he accepted the glass.

“It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for Lower Castle.”

He chuckled, mentioning that all the knights and swordmasters from Lower Castle who came here had volunteered willingly.

Hearing that everyone had come of their own accord made my chest swell with a warm, exhilarating feeling—not discomfort, but genuine joy.

Milend seemed to understand that sensation, gently patting my shoulder.

“The same applies to Owen as well.”

Borini Kitten set down his fork with a smile.

“Had you not stepped forward, Owen would have faced the disgrace of convening a Six Emperors conference without being able to stop Tacheon. You’ve saved both our people and our honor—such a debt cannot be repaid by any means.”

He lowered his head, saying that even a lifetime of repayment would not be enough.

“Moreover, this battle was against the Phantom Soul Ghost, who sought to dominate the Continent. Rather, I should thank you for providing such valuable experience to myself and my knights.”

Borini Kitten smiled gently, insisting that this matter should not be treated as a favor.

“Is that not so, Your Highness?”
“Huh? Ah! Yes, of course! Naturally!”

The Third Prince answered awkwardly, his gaze fixed on Martha sipping her drink.

“Hey! Why have you been staring since earlier!”
“Ugh!”

When Martha snapped at him, the Third Prince quickly turned his head away, pretending not to have heard.

-Yaaaaaaah!

As I chuckled at the sight, Wrath suddenly burst forward and grabbed me by the collar.

-Stop talking! Please, just stop talking and eat already!

Wrath wailed, bewildered why I kept opening my mouth when the table was laden with food.

‘What do you want to eat first?’
-The pie right in front of me!

I nodded and placed the blueberry pie that Wrath had been desperately pleading for into my mouth.

Crunch.

The crisp layers of pastry mingled with the sweet-tart notes of blueberry, flooding my palate with flavor.
Delicate almond fragments scattered across the surface provided a nutty finish, and satisfaction bloomed from that single bite alone.

‘Not bad at all.’

I understood why Wrath had been begging for a taste—the flavor was genuinely exceptional.

-Hnnngh….

The moment I finished the pie, Wrath’s eyes welled up with tears the size of pebbles.

‘Is it really that delicious?’
-It’s not just about taste—I’m overwhelmed thinking of all the hardship the True Demon King has endured until now! I cannot help but weep!

The creature patted his own shoulder proudly, marveling at his own perseverance under that wretched human.

-Now for the next course! Bring forth the grape jam sandwich and the roasted mud duck!

Wrath shouted out the names of dishes as though possessed. Smiling wryly, I indulged his every demand.

-Gulp!

With a belly now swollen like a tadpole’s, Wrath sprawled out with a contented smile.

-This is what living truly means!

I left Wrath to his drowsy blinking and approached Morel, pouring wine into his empty glass.

“I’m not satisfied with most things here, but the wine is acceptable.”

Morel smacked his lips, saying he could return just for the wine.

“It seems to suit your palate.”
“The Arian Family’s wine cannot be purchased with money alone.”

He lifted his gaze along with his glass.

“You still won’t tell me?”
“Tell you what, sir?”
“How you managed to put a leash on our wild Princess.”
“A leash? The Princess simply promised to grant me a few favors.”

I chuckled softly and shook my head.

“Well, that’s not really the important part anyway.”

Morel moistened his lips with wine.

“That wild one kneeling before me and begging—that alone is enough.”

He had watched Princess Jeina since childhood, but seeing that stiff head bow for the first time made him curl his lips upward.

“That’s fortunate.”

I laughed quietly. Jeina would never have restrained herself within the kingdom, so Morel’s reaction was only natural.

I clinked glasses with Morel and then moved to the table where the Cheoljeon Unit had gathered, taking a seat beside Trevin.

“Are you enjoying the festival?”
“It’s not bad.”

Trevin nodded, saying the food and drink were worth obtaining.

“Anyway.”

He was a man of genuine warmth despite his reluctance to admit it—someone who seemed entirely out of place among Zigheart’s Main Lineage.

“Thank you for coming.”
“I was simply bored.”

Trevin brushed his hands together, claiming he’d had nothing better to do.

“There goes our lord again.”
“He was the one throwing a fit about going to rescue them immediately.”
“Be honest with us, sir.”
“How long will he keep this up?”
“Enough!”

Trevin’s face flushed crimson at the murmurs of the Cheoljeon Unit swordsmen as he slammed the table.

“There’s no need for such words among the swordsmen of our family. Don’t mind it.”

With that, Trevin drained his cup in one gulp.

I felt my fingertips tremble as I watched Trevin drink consecutively.

‘There’s no need for such words among the swordsmen of our family…’

Had another member of the Main Lineage spoken those words, I would have scoffed.
But hearing them from Trevin, who had come to rescue the Gwangpung Unit without any compensation, my heart resonated with profound emotion.

‘Words worth remembering.’

Just as Trevin said, a family’s role was to rescue its members regardless of circumstance or justification.

If I ever founded a family of my own, I wanted to build it upon such loyalty and faith.

“Thank you.”

I bowed once more to Trevin and the Cheoljeon Unit before taking my seat at the table.

-Hm?

Wrath, who had been draped across my shoulders like laundry, lifted his face above his bloated belly.

-A second round? The True Demon King can consume far more!
‘My stomach’s going to burst at this rate.’
-Silence! If there’s any space left in that belly, you might stuff it with Nadin’s bread! We must fill it completely!
‘Good grief….’

I shook my head in resignation and began piling the remaining untouched dishes onto plates.

“By the way, why did you arrive so late?”

Martha, who had been glaring at the Third Prince before resuming her drinking, posed the question.

“Well, the swamp took longer than expected, and washing up took forever too.”

Burren Zigheart tilted his head in confusion at the oddity of it all.

“Did you sleep outside?”

Lunan Slion asked if I’d slept on the street and offered to provide bedding.

“That’s not it. I encountered the Sword Ghost and his disciple.”
“Why did you meet them?”
“It just happened. We ended up sparring.”
“Sparring?”
“What are you suddenly talking about?”

Not only the members of the Gale Wind Squad but warriors from other factions shot to their feet, their mouths agape.

“That’s….”

I gave a brief explanation of what had transpired at the well.

“A match with the Sword Ghost….”
“What a stroke of fortune!”
“And not just any fortune either. He’s the first among the Five Great Swordmasters and a master of the blade.”
“I’m… jealous….”

The gathered warriors gazed at me with envy, their eyes gleaming with longing at the prospect of my upcoming match with the Sword Ghost.

“No, we need to break his disciple first.”
“His momentum is extraordinary.”
“Just from his eyes, you can tell he’s a master.”
“Being the Sword Ghost’s Disciple, it’s hard to judge by realm alone. He’ll be several times stronger than someone at the same level.”
“Still, Raon will win.”
“Then the epithet ‘White Sword Dragon’ wasn’t earned through gambling.”

Everyone clinked their cups together and began wagering on who would emerge victorious from the duel.

“Hmm!”

Rimer’s eyes, which had been quietly drinking, sparkled like starlight.

“A duel, then….”

He rose silently from the table, cup still in hand.

“I should prepare as well.”

*

*

*

I picked up the Celestial Sword that I’d left resting on the table and rose to my feet. I clenched my right fist and nodded.

‘Perfect condition.’

A day of rest had restored my body, and a day of training had attuned my current physique and aura. I felt certain that my condition had reached its peak.

-Perfect, my foot.

I glanced to the side at the scornful laugh from Wrath. The cotton candy had plumped up with excess weight and was smirking.

Over the past two days, while replenishing nutrients for recovery, I’d let the creature eat everything it wanted, and this was the result.

-Don’t lose to that old man’s disciple. Give it everything you have.
‘I was planning to anyway.’

I need to grow stronger faster.

My duel with the Demon King had only a year and a half remaining. While sparring with Mustan would yield its own benefits, I yearned to cross blades with the Sword Ghost and ascend to greater heights.

I donned my combat uniform and fastened the Heavenly Sword at my waist before leaving the Dormitory.

Word of today’s duel had spread, and the festival atmosphere from two days prior continued as food stalls lined the area, with crowds gathering around the Training Ground.

‘It’s practically a festival.’

Unexpected as it was, this duel seemed to breathe new vitality into the people of the Arian Family.

-Look there! Clay-roasted chicken skewers! You don’t see those often! Let’s go eat!

Wrath’s tongue flicked with anticipation as he spotted the clay-roasted chicken skewers being sold at a stall to my right.

‘I’m heading into battle right now…’
-One must fill their belly to fight properly!
‘You already ate.’
-A snack doesn’t count unless you’ve had a proper meal!

I regarded Wrath with an exasperated look before sighing. I couldn’t fathom how his wrath had dwindled while his appetite had only grown.

The Lord of Gluttony.

No matter how I thought about it, this was a personality poorly chosen. I wanted to meet whoever had bestowed upon him the title of Lord of Wrath.

-Let’s go quickly!
‘Fine.’

I brushed off the clinging Wrath and made my way toward the center of the Castle where the Sparring Arena lay, passing by the various stalls.

“Give me a beer!”
“And popcorn for me!”
“Man, I can’t wait to see who wins today.”
“What are you talking about? Obviously the benefactor!”
“But he’s the disciple of the Sword Ghost, one of the Five Great Swordmasters! He’s got way more experience!”
“Either way, his skill is no ordinary matter.”

People enjoyed their food and chattered about who would win today’s sparring match.

“Hm?”

As I headed toward the Sparring Arena, I noticed a large stall with an unusually dense crowd gathered around it.

“I’m placing my bet on our benefactor, Raon!”
“Me too! Of course we should bet on our benefactor!”
“But this swordsman Mustan is no joke either. His eyes have the gleam of a predator!”
“Well, if the Sword Ghost trained him, he must have raised his disciple properly.”

I could see gold and silver coins cascading onto the stall. It was clearly a gambling den.

‘A gambling den would naturally be here.’

Gambling dens naturally followed uncertain matches like this. Since it was part of the festival, there was no need to interfere.

‘I wonder if the Unit Lord is here too?’
-A fly wouldn’t pass up dung without stopping.
‘True enough.’

I naturally expected that reckless Red-haired Elf to be here and looked around, but strangely, I couldn’t spot him.

‘Did he already place his bets and leave?’

I thought Rimer would place bets after checking the odds, but it seemed he’d already wagered and departed. I was about to pass by when a familiar voice called out from inside the stall.

“Hey now! You all don’t know the truth. It wasn’t Raon who ended this war—it was me. Nobody knows who’ll win!”

At that carefree voice, I turned my gaze back to the stall.
Standing in the spot where the proprietor should have been sitting was the Red-haired Elf, grinning wickedly.

-….
‘….’

Raon and Wrath stared at Rimer, who had gone from gambling to actually running a gambling den, their mouths agape.

Just how far was that Elf going to take this?

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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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