The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 60

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

Chapter 60

“A wager?”

Rimer’s eyes narrowed as he looked Methun up and down.

“What’s this sudden talk of a wager?”
“A wager to prove whether the 5th Training Ground truly houses the strongest trainees in Zigheart.”
“Ah, so you want to fight?”
“As an instructor of Zigheart, refrain from such crude language.”
“Fighting or a direct match—it’s all the same thing. Let’s keep it straightforward.”

Rimer chuckled and drained his empty beer mug, while Methun’s expression hardened like stone.

Though both served as senior instructors, their personalities could not have been more different.

“Oh, so Rimer and Methun are fighting?”
“They’re not fighting each other—they’re pitting their students against one another!”
“So the 5th Training Ground versus the 6th Martial Grounds? That’s incredible!”

Everyone in the tavern rose to their feet and crowded around Rimer and Methun.

“I’m betting my entire fortune on Methun’s side!”
“Are you crazy? This has to be Rimer’s! Martha, Burren, Lunan, and even Raon who defeated all three of them!”
“Right. The 6th Martial Grounds has plenty of branch family members, but not a single direct descendant. The 5th Training Ground will win for sure.”
“You lot are completely out of the loop. Don’t you know Cain just joined the 6th Martial Grounds recently?”

At the mention of a direct descendant joining, all eyes in the tavern turned in one direction.

“Wait, wasn’t he injured on a mission?”
“That was already a year and six months ago, man.”
“Oh, then it might be worth watching? Cain was famous for his talent—especially his senses and the purity of his aura.”
“It’s not just worth watching. The 6th Martial Grounds has the advantage now. Cain and the branch family members who follow him are already sixteen.”
“This is going to be exciting!”
“Let’s go! Set up the match right now!”

The tavern patrons began shouting the names of the 5th Training Ground and 6th Martial Grounds as if the wager were already settled, pulling out their money.

“Wow, if I don’t do this, I’m going to get beaten to death?”

Rimer chuckled softly, his face bright with genuine amusement despite his words.

Methun stood with a heavy expression, as if he’d anticipated things would unfold this way.

“But what sudden wind blew in to make you suggest a direct confrontation?”
“It’s not a direct confrontation, it’s—”
“Let’s skip the trivial details.”
“Are you genuinely asking because you don’t know?”
“Is it because of the Owen Kingdom?”

Rimer scratched his chin and lifted his beer mug.

“Exactly. The Owen Kingdom saw the 6th Martial Grounds but only requested a sparring match with the 5th Training Ground. The children’s pride was wounded by that.”
“That’s because they trained carelessly.”
“You’re right about that. Neither I nor the trainees gave our full effort back then. But things are different now.”

Methun continued, observing Rimer’s half-lidded eyes.

“Ever since Cain Zigheart transferred five months ago, the 6th Martial Grounds has transformed. Everyone trained from dawn until night, and recently, they all passed the Hellfire Trial.”
“What? The Hellfire Trial?”

Rimer’s mouth fell open in shock.

“That’s right. Not a single person dropped out.”
“That’s impressive.”

The Hellfire Trial was notorious among Zigheart’s training regimens for its brutality. It was a trial where even regular swordsmen would drop out, so the fact that all the trainees endured it was astounding.

“I thought it was time to let those children experience a sense of accomplishment.”
“And you’re making our 5th Training Ground the sacrificial lamb?”
“….”

Methun answered by not answering at all.

“I like it.”

Rimer grinned wickedly and tapped the table.

“What’s the format? A one-on-one duel?”
“No. We can’t beat the 5th Training Ground with just one-on-one duels.”

Methun shook his head.

“Hmm? Then how do you propose we fight?”
“Duels don’t have to be one-on-one.”
“Ah!”

Rimer grinned and tapped the table lightly.

“A team battle?”
“Yes. The 5th Training Ground has 43 members, and we’ll prepare 43 as well. We’ll fight in a randomly chosen location.”
“It’s not quite a full-scale war. More of a localized skirmish?”

He muttered that it would be fine and placed his hand back on the gold coins Methun had set down.

“However, I have a proposal.”
“A proposal?”
“The 6th Martial Grounds has more than twice our numbers, doesn’t it?”
“It does.”
“Then it’s only fair to give them more of a chance. Prepare 60 members on your side.”
“What?”
“We’ll keep it at 43. You’ll have 60.”
“Are you looking down on us?”

Methun’s killing intent blazed up like kindling. The table trembled.

“It’s not contempt—it’s stating facts. You lack both strength and experience, don’t you?”
“Hmm.”
“Besides, we have more direct descendants, vassals, and upper-tier branch family members. Even if you fight with 60, no one will fault you for it.”

Methun pondered for a moment, then nodded.

“Understood. Let’s do it that way.”
“You decide the date and location.”
“Me? What if I’m deceiving you….”

For the first time, Methun’s heavy gaze wavered.

“You’re not the type to pull off a con like that.”

Methun’s grip on the gold coin weakened, and Rimer seized the opportunity to snatch it away.

“But there’s one thing you’re mistaken about.”

Methun withdrew his hand from the coin and turned his head.

“Mistaken?”
“Cain Zigheart spent a year and a half unable to move due to his injuries, yet he cultivated his aura and honed his senses every single day.”
“What?”
“His senses and aura output rival even formal knights.”

He gazed down at Rimer with eyes brimming with confidence.

“You’d better prepare yourself well. Cain alone could sweep through all of you. This is the contract fee for the wager.”

Methun pulled a pouch of gold coins from his pocket, pushed it across the table toward Rimer, and left the tavern.

“Woooow!”
“Can we go watch too?”
“Open the betting pool right now! I’m wagering my entire fortune on the 6th Martial Grounds!”
“I’m going with the 5th Training Ground!”
“You lot don’t have much to wager anyway. I’m putting my entire house on the line!”

Once the wager was established, the tavern erupted into such chaos the ceiling seemed to shake.

“Hmm.”

Rimer tapped the pouch of gold coins and broke into a grin.

“Free money really is the best.”

He carried himself with ease, as if he knew everything that would unfold.

“So, shall we head to the gambling den?”

*

*

*

The dawn was still dark, the sun not yet risen.

Raon sat with his eyes closed in the Annex Courtyard, as if a black curtain had descended over it. Above his shoulders, a crimson haze thinner than a blade of grass shimmered into existence.

Contrary to the rising sun’s heat, the red aura emanating from Raon’s body gradually diminished, until it vanished completely.

In that moment, I opened my eyes.

Flash.

My crimson irises blazed with intense heat, like the sun piercing through the heavens.

“Haaah….”

As I exhaled, expelling the turbid energy lingering in my body, my blazing eyes returned to their normal state.

‘Time really does fly.’

I rose to my feet, watching the sun crawl sluggishly upward.

Three days had passed since I returned from my first mission.

Thanks to three days of training, my body and aura had begun to move in tandem, even if only slightly.

Ching!

I rotated my wrists and ankles, then drew my blade. Channeling my mana, I executed the full sequence of the Resonance Sword Technique from beginning to end.

My aura followed directly behind my body’s movements—a shadow-like precision. Not perfect, but unmistakably different from three days ago.

‘This level should suffice for now.’

After all, this was training I would pursue for the rest of my life.

Perfectly synchronizing my aura and body was not something that could be accomplished in mere days.

Ultimately, I needed to achieve the unity of sword and spirit—a true merger of blade and mind—which meant I had to continue training diligently going forward.

I executed the Zigheart fundamental swordplay from beginning to end, then sheathed my blade.

Glancing skyward, I noticed the sun had already climbed considerably high.

‘I’m running slightly behind schedule.’

My dawn personal training was nearly finished. I needed to reach the 5th Training Ground before the official morning training session began.

I changed out of my sweat-soaked clothes and rushed toward the 5th Training Ground. As I reached for the door, I heard the voices of trainees from within.

“Where’s that guy? What’s he up to?”
“He finished the mission solo, so he probably wanted to skip dawn training.”
“Tch, honestly, anyone could’ve done that job.”
“Right. Even if he’s an aura user, they were just bandits. How strong could they be? He just got lucky.”

I could tell from their voices alone—Branch Family trainees. The ones who couldn’t adapt to the changed Burren and had fallen behind.

‘Pathetic fools.’

Raon clicked his tongue. There was no need to pay attention to the words of such losers. The moment he stepped forward, they would avert their eyes and run away.

‘The training ground feels slightly cold today, though.’

As I noticed the temperature in the Training Ground differed from usual and prepared to enter, a familiar voice resonated from within.

“Pathetic.”

It was Burren’s voice. Elegant footsteps halted before the trainees.

“Anyone could do it, you say? Then did you find traces of the bandits at the time? Or did you rescue the children from them? Or perhaps you severed a bandit’s head?”
“That, that is….”
“Burren. We were just, uh, joking around….”

The trainees stammered helplessly, unable to find words.

“Jealousy is an emotion anyone can feel. But the moment you voice it, human depravity reaches its nadir. I say this because I’ve experienced it firsthand. Get your heads straight.”

Thwack!

The moment Burren finished speaking, someone leaped down from the tree.

“If that bastard hadn’t been here, I would’ve smashed your skulls in.”

It was Martha. Her voice, grinding like teeth, came from beside the trainees.

“Get some perspective. If you’d encountered a bandit leader, you’d either be dead from your own stupidity, or dragged away like dogs by the instructors watching.”
“M-Martha…”
“When you finished your missions and got leave, what did you do? You probably thought you needed rest after the mission and trained half-heartedly, or didn’t train at all.”
“That’s…”
“Hmm.”

The trainees could only smack their lips at Martha’s words that struck right at the heart of the matter.

“That bastard who finished his mission alone came to the Training Ground to practice while you all went home and slept with your feet up. Even on the day he returned.”
“R-really?”
“If you don’t believe me, ask him yourself.”

Martha let out a cold laugh, mocking the trainees.

“You know Raon’s movements quite well. Have you been stalking him?”
“What? You bastard, watch your mouth!”

Martha slammed her fist against the wall at Burren’s joking remark.

“It’s true though. How else would you know if you weren’t watching?”
“Maybe if I tied that mouth of yours shut, you’d understand.”

Burren and Martha began radiating an aura as if they were about to fight.

Sigh.

I felt an indescribable emotion, like tapping my chest with my fingertips, as I opened the door to the Training Ground.

The noisy, bustling Training Ground fell silent. Burren and Martha, who looked ready to grab each other by the collar and fight, whipped their heads around.

“Raon.”

As I watched the two of them, Lunan Slion approached, his eyes glimmering with a silvery sheen. Pristine frost bloomed across his shoulders.

‘So it was him.’

I’d wondered why the temperature in the Training Ground had dropped—it seemed Lunan Slion was radiating a lethal amount of cold.

“Seems you think you can complete a mission alone and show no respect? Late to dawn training, too.”

Martha, who had taken my side moments before, now began to jab at me with her words.

“I did it at home, so there’s no need to worry.”

I answered lightly and moved to the center of the Training Ground.

“Regular training begins shortly. Everyone, fall into formation.”

The trainees began gathering behind me with somewhat reluctant expressions.

“Warm up your bodies before training starts.”

As I told them to warm up and rotated my neck, the faintest smile played at the corner of my lips—so subtle that no one could discern it.

*

*

*

Two months had passed since I completed my first mission.

The way those around me looked at me had shifted somewhat, but I paid it no mind, devoting myself entirely to harmonizing the Flame Sword Technique with the Garam Step.

-Tedious. Repeating only the swordplay and footwork you’ve already mastered? Do you possess no sense of boredom, worm?
‘That’s not true.’

I let out a quiet laugh.

‘It’s essential training. I’m simply enduring it.’

Everyone knows that fundamentals are important, yet most people abandon basic training the moment they understand this truth, throwing themselves into advanced martial techniques instead—a mistake born of impatience.

The reason is simple.
Competitive anxiety.

‘I’m falling behind.’

When one practices only ordinary swordplay and footwork while another wields sword energy and unleashes blade winds, the psychological weight becomes unbearable—doubt creeps in like poison.

‘And gods, it’s so mind-numbingly tedious.’

Basic swordplay and footwork are simple, elementary. Even a trainee of modest talent can master the forms in a week.

Yet repeating them for months or years? No one finds joy in such monotony.

I was no exception. Repeating basic swordplay and footwork continuously was torture—a burden that wore on me relentlessly.

‘But it’s what must be done.’

Diligent fundamental training is like building a ladder against a cliff face.

Those who climb with bare hands and feet may reach the top first, but one day, I who built the ladder would ascend higher and faster than they ever could.

My patience was unmatched by anyone in this world, so regardless of what others whispered, I devoted every spare moment to basic swordplay, footwork, and the manipulation of my fire rings.

“Wow, doesn’t it drive you insane?”
“How can you just repeat the same basic sword technique over and over?”
“He’s lost it. Completely lost it….”
“I could never live like that. Never.”

The other trainees watched me repeat the fundamental forms and shook their heads in pure admiration—not mockery or ridicule, but genuine awe.

“Seriously, how does he just keep doing the same thing? Isn’t his mind half-broken?”

A cheerful voice cut through the murmurs, and the trainees turned around.

“Gasp!”
“I-Instructor!”
“What brings you here so early?”
“Hello.”

Head Instructor Rimer waved his hand with a slight smirk.

“It’s true that the basics grow tedious, but that boy will rise far. I’ve never seen a swordsman who constantly honed their fundamentals fail to reach the top.”

With that, he ascended the Platform.

“Alright, everyone pay attention!”

Rimer clapped his hands and drew all eyes toward him. The trainees stopped their individual practice and rushed forward.

“What is it, sir?”

Burren raised his hand, tilting his head in curiosity at Rimer’s unexpected appearance during dawn training.

“Ah, I should have mentioned this before, but I forgot.”
“Forgot, sir?”
“What else have you forgotten?”

The trainees asked lightly, thinking it was nothing serious. But the words that left his mouth far exceeded their expectations.

“We’re scheduled to have a match with the 6th Martial Grounds.”
“A match? With the 6th Martial Grounds? D-Do you mean we’ll be sparring, sir?”
“Rather than sparring, it’s more of an all-out battle. Your 43 will clash simultaneously with their 60.”
“When, sir?”

Burren’s face hardened like tree bark, and the other trainees swallowed dryly.

Rimer grinned, clearly enjoying their expressions.

“Tomorrow.”

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