The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 414

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

Chapter 414

Clang!

The moment Mustan dropped his half-severed blade, light returned to the eyes of the spectators who had been left speechless.

“A… a single strike?”
“The Sword Ghost’s Disciple was defeated in a single strike?”
“That’s insane…”
“How is this even possible? Leaving aside that he’s the Sword Ghost’s Disciple, can a Master really break another Master with a single strike?”
“I saw it with my own eyes and still can’t believe it…”
“Isn’t it a bit… anticlimactic?”
“Very anticlimactic. They say a famous feast has nothing to eat, but this is too much…”

The spectators heaved deep sighs at the pathetic conclusion of the duel between Raon and Mustan, which they had anticipated so eagerly.

“Ah…”

Mustan stared at his half-severed blade, his jaw trembling. The middle of the blade had been cleanly cut through, and the broken edge was embedded in the Sparring Arena floor.

‘What is this?’

I used my master’s swordsmanship and lost?

The true martial art of Lectar, the Sword Ghost, had been shattered by that young brat’s single strike. It still felt unreal—as if I were trapped in a nightmare rather than living reality.

‘This makes no sense.’

Raon Zigheart had earned the epithet of Sword Dragon as the strongest among young martial artists, so losing was possible.

But in a single strike. And not even from a particularly remarkable draw technique—the fact that my master’s blade had shattered was something I couldn’t comprehend no matter how hard I tried.

“No, this can’t be!”

Mustan lifted his broken blade and pointed it at Raon.

“I haven’t lost yet! I won’t accept this!”

He couldn’t accept this defeat, grinding his teeth in frustration.

Tsk.

Raon clicked his tongue briefly as he watched Mustan cry out in anguish.

-Pathetic.

Wrath shook his head with cold eyes, as if looking at an insect.

-More contemptible than weakness itself.
‘As expected. He hasn’t deviated from my predictions in the slightest.’

Even if it was just a single strike, a match is a match. In a real battle, he would have lost his life.
Unable to accept the result and stubbornly refusing to concede—his character was unworthy of being the Sword Ghost’s Disciple, regardless of his skill.

“So what do you want to do?”
“Fight again! I don’t care about this condition!”

Mustan burned his aura across the half-shattered blade, insisting they continue fighting.

‘It’s a bit troublesome, but…’

It would be better to crush him decisively here.

If Mustan displayed his true strength, subduing him would be difficult, but since he was now more agitated and stubborn than before, victory wouldn’t be hard to achieve.

“Mustan.”

As Raon was about to raise the Heavenly Sword again, the Sword Ghost ascended into the Sparring Arena.

Thud.

Though his footsteps were light, they pierced through the cacophony of the crowded Spectator Stands and settled softly in everyone’s ears.

“M-Master.”

Mustan swallowed hard as he met the Sword Ghost’s coldly settled gaze.

“This is both a sparring match and a duel.”

The Sword Ghost raised his hand, and the blade embedded in the Sparring Arena was drawn out, settling into his grip.

“Whether you lost in a single strike or let your guard down, defeat is defeat. Come down.”
“Ugh….”

Mustan descended from the Sparring Arena, biting his lip until it bled.
But his bloodshot eyes glared at me with the unmistakable promise that he would never forget this.

“I’ll apologize.”

The Sword Ghost stepped forward and lowered his eyes.

“I haven’t been in this world long, so my manners are lacking. I hope you’ll understand.”

The broken blade resting on his palm crumbled into metal dust and scattered away. I couldn’t tell if this counted as an apology or a threat.

“It’s fine.”

I nodded with a reluctant expression.

“Then my match with Lectar….”
“You’ll need rest as well, so let’s begin after a short while.”

The Sword Ghost told me to cultivate and then descended from the Sparring Arena.

“Hmm….”

I watched the Sword Ghost’s back and smacked my lips.

‘He’s giving me a chance to fight better—there’s no reason to refuse.’

I nodded and sat in a chair directly below the Sparring Arena.

“What the hell are you, really?”
“What else? A madman!”

Burren Zigheart exhaled sharply, and Martha curled up the corners of her mouth.

“Raon. Well done.”

Lunan Slion gave a thumbs up as if to say I’d done well.

“I’m going to cultivate. Please keep watch for me.”

I asked the three of them to guard me, then closed my eyes.

‘The swordsmanship Mustan displayed must be the Sword Ghost’s martial arts.’

I closed my eyes while recalling any parts of Mustan’s swordsmanship that I might have missed.

*

*

*

“I apologize!”

The moment the Sword Ghost descended into the Sparring Arena, Mustan dropped to his knees.

“This worthless fool has dragged your name through the mud, Master!”

He slammed his forehead against the ground, letting out a sound like a scream.

“However!”

Mustan lifted his bleeding forehead. His eyes twisted like those of a demon.

“I was simply careless. If I had fought with all my strength, I could have won….”
“Mustan.”

The Sword Ghost looked down at Mustan with a furrowed brow.

“Are you saying you could have won if you hadn’t been careless?”
“Yes! His victory was merely a coincidence! If you give me another chance to fight, I will restore my honor and return!”
“You’re saying you could win without even looking at your opponent?”
“What?”

Mustan’s mouth fell open in a square shape as he failed to comprehend the words.

“Your blade was not directed at that child, but at me. Your consciousness was not sparring with Raon, but with me.”

The Sword Ghost observed his disciple’s trembling shoulders with cold eyes.

“You were not giving your all to the opponent before your eyes, but were consumed with the thought of displaying your ascending swordplay to me behind you. And in that state, you believed you could defeat the child called the Sword Dragon?”
“That is… I….”

Mustan could not answer and hung his head in shame.

‘That’s right….’

The person I wanted to display my swordplay to was not Raon, but my master.

To prove that only I was worthy of being the Sword Ghost’s Disciple, I had employed the Ten Thousand Swords technique that I had not yet perfected, only to be defeated in a single strike.

‘Damn it!’

Now I understood. Without focusing on my opponent and displaying only clumsy swordplay, it was inevitable that I would lose to Raon, who had given his all.

“So you have finally realized.”

The Sword Ghost nodded slowly.

“Had you not imitated my swordplay and instead demonstrated your true strength from the beginning, you could have had a worthy match with that child.”
“Ugh….”

Mustan trembled violently, his lips clenched tight.

“Remember this defeat for the rest of your life, for it shall elevate you to greater heights. And….”

The Sword Ghost stepped closer to Mustan.

“I shall tell you of the grave misconception you harbor.”
“Yes?”

Mustan lifted his head blankly.

“I didn’t choose to take you as my disciple, but I have no intention of abandoning that responsibility. You are my only student, so stop entertaining such foolish thoughts and focus on your training.”

The Sword Ghost turned and walked away after speaking those words.

‘That should be enough to set his mind at ease.’

Mustan had always harbored doubts about not being directly chosen as a disciple, which made him insecure from the start and prone to overreacting.

Regardless of how the master-disciple bond had formed, he had no intention of abandoning a student once accepted. He hoped this match would help correct his disciple’s shortcomings.

“Sigh…”

The Sword Ghost watched Raon Zigheart cultivating with his eyes closed, his lips pressing into a thin line.

‘No matter how much I think about it, something feels off.’

They didn’t resemble each other, yet they did.

Whenever I looked at Raon Zigheart, that child came to mind.

Though he possessed different hair and eye colors from those brilliant golden locks and crimson eyes, the harmony of his features was eerily similar.

‘He stirs up unpleasant memories.’

As the Sword Ghost sighed while gazing at Raon, Mustan also glared at Raon and clenched his fists tightly.

*

*

*

After the first match ended anticlimactically, the gamblers who had regained their senses rushed toward Rimer’s betting stall.

“Zigheart’s glorious victory!”
“Hey! You con artist!”
“Give me my money back!”
“A pathetic wretch like that killed the Apostle and the Layer Master? That’s bullshit!”
“He’s just a fraud!”
“I shouldn’t have trusted that elf!”

The gamblers rushed toward the betting stall as if to destroy it, seizing Rimer by the collar. Their eyes blazed with madness as their money vanished so effortlessly.

“Eeeek!”

Dorian trembled, watching the bloodshot eyes of the crowd.

“Now, now, everyone, please calm down.”

Rimer, utterly unruffled, waved his hand to settle the crowd’s frenzy.

“The world of competition is merciless! He won with a single strike, but Raon suffered considerable damage as well. As you can see, he’s cultivating his aura right now.”

As he pointed to Raon, who stood with closed eyes cultivating his aura, the gamblers’ screams subsided momentarily.

“My friends. There’s a saying that three opportunities come to every person. The first opportunity given to you was witnessing this duel, the second was being able to wager on it, and the third and final opportunity is that there’s one more round to come!”

At Rimer’s proclamation, both those who won and those who lost money stood slack-jawed.

“An… opportunity?”
“There’s another round?”
“What does that mean?”
“First, let go of me and everyone step back a pace.”

The spectators released Rimer’s collar and retreated.

“As you may know, shortly Raon and the Sword Ghost will begin their duel. Well, it’s more of a lesson than a duel, but the circumstances have changed.”

Rimer smiled coldly, gesturing toward the Sword Ghost.

“Will the Sword Ghost simply overlook Raon, who defeated his cherished disciple with a single strike? You there!”

He pointed to the gambler who had seized his collar moments before.

“What would you do if the guest were the Sword Ghost?”
“I’d shatter him with a single strike, just the same.”
“Exactly! The Sword Ghost is human too, and his arm bends inward like anyone else’s. He’d despise Raon for humiliating his disciple. Of course he’d crush Raon with one strike. Right here!”

Rimer slammed the table and stood up.

“Our third opportunity begins! Will Raon be able to withstand the Sword Ghost’s single strike, or won’t he? I’m opening a fresh betting round right now!”

He immediately initiated a new wager and opened fresh betting.

“In, insane….”
“Is that even a bet?”
“Right. No matter how strong Raon is, he can’t withstand the Sword Ghost’s blade.”
“Yeah. This isn’t a real bet!”
“Stop talking nonsense and put your money down….”

The crowd wasn’t foolish, and they scoffed at the notion of wagering money on Raon.

As everyone refused to place bets and glared at Rimer, the Third Prince parted through the crowd and stepped before the table.

“I’ll wager all the winnings and the original stake on Raon the swordsman withstanding the single strike.”

The Third Prince declared he would bet everything on Raon without needing to return the previous winnings.

“Thank you!”

As Rimer bowed with a smile, an aura message reached the Third Prince.

[You’ll keep your promise to tell me what Martha likes, won’t you?]
[Of course. Once this is all over, I’ll tell you what that girl likes best.]

He nodded readily while looking at the Third Prince.

‘What she likes is fighting and cursing. What else could it be?’

Martha would never fall for the Third Prince, so it would suffice to mention something she liked and move on.

“Dorian. Write this down carefully.”
“Yes!”

Dorian nodded and recorded the Third Prince’s bet in the ledger.

“Wait, didn’t His Highness just wager 500 gold coins?”
“He did. That should be 1,000 now….”
“And he’s betting all of it?”
“Good heavens….”
“What nerves of steel!”

The spectators watched the Third Prince boldly stake his fortune and swallowed hard.

“I’m betting on the Sword Ghost!”
“Me too!”
“Damn it all! I’m throwing in my emergency funds!”
“A third chance! That’s right! No matter what else, I have to seize this third opportunity!”
“Camelrun is going down!”

Both winners and losers reinvested their coins, and the table began overflowing with money.

Rimer gazed at the towering pile of gold that cast shadows and grinned wickedly.

He clasped his hands together and bowed deeply toward Raon, who had just opened his eyes after finishing his cultivation, offering a fervent prayer.

Oh, my deity of fortune!

*

*

*

I shook my head as I surveyed Rimer’s Gambling House descending into chaos once more.

‘That man will never starve, no matter where he goes.’

His ability to exploit crises was almost admirable—his shamelessness was truly worthy of respect.

-I want to pluck those long ears off!

Wrath swung his round fists at the empty air in frustration.

‘That’s right. Watching it is irritating.’

I chuckled softly and climbed up into the Sparring Arena. My body was warmed up, and after replenishing my aura through cultivation, I was in even better condition than when I’d fought Mustan.

The Sword Ghost, who had been watching me, nodded and walked up into the Sparring Arena.

“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”

I nodded heavily.

“Thank you for enlightening my disciple.”

The Sword Ghost turned to look at Mustan and narrowed his eyes.

“The boy lacks experience and has many shortcomings. Thanks to your teachings, he’ll be able to climb even higher.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”

Contrary to the Sword Ghost’s words, I watched Mustan, whose gaze still radiated a murderous intent, and licked my lips.

“Since you enlightened my disciple with a single strike, I too shall end our duel with a single strike. Will you accept it?”
“It would be an honor.”

I slowly steadied my breathing and drew the Celestial Sword.

“Then let us begin.”

The Sword Ghost drew his blade from a distance of more than ten paces away.

A blade tinged with a faint crimson light rose toward the sky. From a sword form so natural it could hardly be called Upper Celestial Form, an overwhelming presence emanated.

Gooooooo!

His blade descended slowly. It was a strike so leisurely that even a child could dodge it with a smile, yet my heart felt as though it would burst from the crushing pressure.

‘What is this….’

At a speed so slow it could induce a yawn, with no aura or sword energy wreathing it, I couldn’t fathom how to block such a strike.

“Ughhhh!”

Dodge and I die. Block and I die.

My body buckles under the pressure of a sword that seems to contain the entire world.

My bones scream in agony, and I cannot even draw breath. I found myself doubting whether any human could possibly wield such swordsmanship.

-Quite the entertaining lesson.

Wrath smacked his lips with interest. The sound of his voice jolted me awake as if cold water had been poured over my head.

‘I cannot simply accept this.’

I had to find a way, somehow….

I stimulated my hardened heart and activated the Ring of Fire.

The slowly rotating rings resonated, releasing the crushing pressure that had bound my body like chains.

Yet even after resonating the Ring of Fire, I still saw no way to block the sword. The only option was to kneel and submit.

‘Is he exacting payment for humiliating his disciple?’

The Sword Ghost’s blade before my eyes was an absolute sword, but from the side, it appeared almost leisurely in its slowness.
It seemed he truly wanted to repay the humiliation his disciple had suffered tenfold.

‘If he’s serious, that’s rather crude….’

I never expected such a renowned Sword Ghost to come at me this way, and my insides churned with indignation.

I bit my lip until it bled, gripping the Celestial Sword with all my might.

‘My current swordsmanship won’t suffice.’

No technique I had learned, studied, or created thus far could block the Sword Ghost’s blade.

‘If my current level won’t work….’

I just need to push forward.

I fixed my gaze on the Sword Ghost’s blade and operated the Ring of Fire to its fullest.

Whiiing!

The resonance of the ring stimulated my upper dantian, which hadn’t fully opened yet. My mind burned as though it might incinerate, and a new vision unfurled before me.

The Sword Ghost’s blade descending slowly now appeared to move with terrifying speed, and the swordsmanship embedded within it unfolded like a panorama.

‘This sword….’

It was the same swordsmanship Mustan had demonstrated, but the level of completion was on an entirely different dimension.
The majesty of the Ten Thousand Sword Technique, containing countless sword principles, roared toward the world.

Behind the perfected Ten Thousand Sword Technique, the Sword Ghost’s eyes were hollow. His expression was devoid of feeling, as though he were casually crushing an insect.

Knowing the identity of that sword and seeing the contempt in the Sword Ghost’s gaze, I refused to crumble here.

Boooooom!

Seven Rings of Fire condensed into one, and as the mana dwelling in my body transformed into nature itself, I felt the breath of the entire world flow through me.

Fast and slow, heavy and light, fierce and gentle, flexible and rigid, diverse and fantastical—the Sword Ghost’s blade.

Contradictory sword principles that should never harmonize were condensed into that single blade.

‘If this were my first time, I could never have blocked it. But….’

I have witnessed a greater sword than this from closer than anyone.

Though the flow differs, I have seen from behind the sword of a warrior who wove all the world’s principles into one.

Glen Zigheart.

The price of witnessing his back is steep.

Because I have seen the Northern Destruction King’s sword, I could face the Ten Thousand Sword Technique descending from the front without yielding, and bare my teeth in defiance.

I pressed forward.

One step, then another.

I recalled the blade of the transcendent who had driven back the White Blood Cult Master and Tacheon with a single strike.

The Ring of Fire, rotating at its limit, twisted as if it would shatter, producing a tremendous resonance.

The world of my inner landscape.

In that White Space, which had been filled only with the seedlings of the blade, the stems of the sword slowly began to sprout.

I savored the searing pain that threatened to incinerate my mind as I adjusted my grip on the Heavenly Sword.

Roooaaahhh!

The heat of Manhwagong and the chill of Glaceia activated simultaneously as I stepped forward with my left foot.

Boom!

The footprint, laden with the weight of ten thousand pounds, carved a massive fissure across the Sparring Arena.

Channeling that magnificent power through my waist, I recalled all the martial arts I had cultivated over time.

I could not contain everything.

Had Mustan not shown me? That a blade without focus was worth less than one.

I poured only the swordsmanship I had endlessly refined into myself.

Swift, powerful, diverse, and precise—Raon Zigheart’s blade rose with a magnificent radiance.

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