The Reincarnated Hunter Sweeps Up All Fortunes - Chapter 6

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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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Episode 6
6
The war between the Red Flow Sect and the Black Blade Gang had captured the attention of all Hangzhou.
It was common knowledge that the Black Blade Gang had abandoned the salt trade and turned their gaze toward new ventures.
The outcome of the war would determine the movements of other demonic and righteous sects alike.
Most had wagered six to four odds in favor of the Black Blade Gang’s victory.
While their military strength was roughly equal, the Black Blade Gang’s reputation for cruelty—squeezing money from debtors’ distant relations and even in-laws—had made them the favorites.
But then?
Shockingly, the Red Flow Sect emerged victorious.
The Red Flow Sect Master had defeated the Black Blade Gang Master.
He’d even attempted an ambush during the one-on-one duel, only to fail and earn himself a black mark.
“Tsk, tsk. If you’re going to fail, don’t even try.”
“Tell me about it. Oh, by the way, I heard a ronin really distinguished himself this time?”
“Ah, you’re talking about Im Gang.”
“Im Gang?”
“They say his skill at throwing flying blades is so extraordinary and precise that the Red Flow Sect Master gave him that epithet as a gift.”
“My. How extraordinary and precise it must be….”
The rumor had spread in mere hours.
* * *
Im Gang forced his furrowed brow to relax.
‘Im Gang? These demonic sect types have no taste at all.’
It was the epithet the Red Flow Sect Master had bestowed on him as thanks for saving his life.
He’d known the demonic sect folk had poor taste, but this was beyond the pale.
He swallowed the complaint rising in his throat.
The Red Flow Sect Master had taken the Black Blade Gang Master’s head and mounted it on a pike in front of the main gate.
After that, how could he possibly ask for the epithet to be changed because it was tacky?
And besides.
The reward for his service wasn’t just an epithet with questionable taste.
Clink, clink.
The money pouch he’d received as payment was extraordinarily heavy.
And that was only a portion.
The real treasure he’d carefully tucked away in his underclothes was a silver coin.
‘For saving his life, he gives me a silver coin! Truly, a man worthy of being called magnanimous!’
Why hide it in his underclothes?
A money pouch could be stolen, but a silver coin—never.
One silver coin equaled a thousand copper coins.
Even a thousand copper coins were so heavy they’d be exhausting to carry around.
Your wrist would develop tendonitis.
That’s why the wealthy and nobility only carried silver coins.
And finally.
[Experience gained. Level increased.]
[Acquired 5 Skill Points.]
[Proficiency increased in several skills.]
[Total Internal Energy increased slightly.]
[Third-rate Flying Blade Art skill registered.]
‘Perfect. This is incredible!’
Despite the furrow in his brow, a smile played at the corners of his mouth—and with good reason.
It was, quite literally, a storm of leveling up.
‘If only my previous life had been like this.’
He wanted to open the system window and examine it in detail.
“Hey! The banquet’s starting! Stop lurking in the darkness grinning to yourself and come sit down! There won’t be any seats left later!”
He decided he should enjoy himself tonight.
Ronins who’d been hiding throughout the compound to avoid cleanup duties came flooding toward the banquet hall.
Free drinks and food—who could resist?
* * *
Im Gang’s eyes snapped open and he immediately checked the money pouch and silver coin.
“Phew. Still here.”
Yesterday he’d wanted to run, but managed to hold back.
There were numerous rules in the ronin code.
Rule Seventeen stipulated that one must never get completely drunk at a victory banquet.
The eighteenth rule is to follow the seventeenth rule.
Why?
Because when you’re stone drunk, someone can search you down to your underwear and steal everything, or ambush you on the way home and rob you blind.
These rules are written in blood.
You absolutely cannot overlook that.
“Ah, forget it. What’s done is done anyway.”
He’d eaten plenty yesterday, so his stomach wasn’t growling yet—breakfast could wait.
No hangover either, so noodles with meat garnish around lunchtime would do the trick.
Im Gang decided to think about what to do next.
First, he’d made good money.
Exactly 362 Copper Coins, and 10 Silver Coins.
Convert the Silver Coins to Copper Coins and that’s 10,000 pieces.
In other words.
If he paid his rent, managed his expenses carefully, he could live off nothing for four or five years.
If he really wanted to blow through it recklessly, he could manage it in a day.
‘Who am I?’
A third-rate Ronin.
You can only live well by saving and scrimping.
Well.
He’d awakened as a Treasure Hunter, so making money was theoretically endless.
‘Hmph. But get careless and you catch a blade in the ribs.’
This commission had earned him plenty of enemies too.
Some of the Ronins who’d taken the Black Blade Gang’s jobs were basically latent assassins in all but name.
The Ronins who’d been on his side were no different.
A joke?
No one’s better at grinning in your face while waiting for a chance to knife you in the back than a Ronin.
Demonic Sect dogs seize their moment and stab.
Righteous Sect dogs hide behind morality and justifications before they move.
A Ronin is just the worst of both combined.
‘The smartest thing is to hide this money well and only carry what I need.’
But you can’t be too stingy either.
Ronins… Ronins… damn it, these bastards are just full of problems.
Anyway.
Trying to make plans with Ronins involved gave him a headache.
“…I need to get stronger first.”
Ronins never touch real masters.
It’s obvious.
Why would they, when touching a master means they die?
Im Gang was sitting at home right now precisely because no one was sniffing around.
They couldn’t gauge his skill level after watching him brutally kill second-rate fighters with Flying Blade Art.
Before his weakness in Internal Energy was exposed—his reliance on just throwing blades well, his somewhat strong strength, the fact he was just slicing things up with brute force—he needed to grow stronger quickly.
How?
‘With the Treasure Hunter’s skills.’
Im Gang opened the system window.
Name: Im Gang (Lv. 6)
Profession: Third-rate Ronin / Treasure Hunter
Internal Energy: 6 years 22 days
Skills: Third-rate Wind Fang Blade Method, Second-rate Copper Body Technique… (See more)
Skill Points: 5
Skills: Third-rate Wind Fang Blade Method 80%, Second-rate Copper Body Technique 40%, Map Lv. 1, Trap Detection Lv. 1, Treasure Search Lv. 1, Appraisal Lv. 1, Trap Disarming Lv. 1, Lock Picking Lv. 1, Concealment Lv. 1, Ranged Attack Enhancement Lv. 1, Ranged Homing Lv. 1, Supreme Great Force Tyrant Technique 50%, Qi Sense, Third-rate Flying Blade Art 10% NEW!
Something had changed.
Im Gang furrowed his brow, racking his memory.
Probably…
[You have grown through accumulated Experience.]
[You have obtained 5 Skill Points.]
[Proficiency for some skills has increased.]
[Your total Internal Energy has increased slightly.]
[The Third-rate Flying Blade Art skill has been registered.]
…that’s what it must have been.
His total Internal Energy had risen by one year.
0.2 years per level?
The figure was vague, certainly, but free Internal Energy was free Internal Energy—a steal any way you looked at it.
Raise it with elixirs, raise it with levels.
Internal Energy just keeps climbing.
‘Mom, when I grow up I’m going to be a bee! ……Wait, what am I doing thinking about this now?’
I shook off the useless thought and distributed the five Skill Points carefully.
[Map Lv. 1 → Map Lv. 3]
[Treasure Search Lv. 1 → Treasure Search Lv. 4]
Every level the Map skill gains expands both its display range and accuracy.
The former meant the range shown within the circular green-backed map grew larger.
The latter improved the precision of locations found or detected by other skills.
Treasure Search worked on the same principle.
The search range widened, and more diverse types of treasure became detectable.
I wasn’t investing points in other skills because I had no intention of leaving Hangzhou.
Wasn’t it dangerous because of the ronin?
No.
Leaving Hangzhou was far more dangerous.
Even with the security in shambles, there was still some order to be found—a fact not to be forgotten.
If I tried to leave Hangzhou as I was now, a dozen or more would follow in my wake.
Speaking from experience, mind you.
For that reason, it made sense to hunt through Hangzhou for fated opportunities—treasure to grow stronger quickly.
Im Gang finished planning and stood, prying up a section of floorboard.
This was where the Great Force Tyrant Technique Manual lay sleeping soundly.
He retrieved the Money Pouch from yesterday’s haul and pressed the boards back down.
He even tidied up so nothing would look amiss.
The Silver Coin remained tucked in his breast.
He’d taken enough money for searching and lunch.
Before leaving for the last time, he drew back the cloth over the window to check for watchers, then—
‘I am a Treasure Hunter. A fortune seeker.’
He headed for the streets of Hangzhou.
* * *
Im Gang regretted his choice.
“Stunning Coffin Tablet?”
“Hey! Is that Stunning Coffin Tablet?”
The ronin drifting through the streets recognized him.
He grimaced at the graceless epithet and turned his head away.
‘Damn. These are Black Blade Gang affiliates.’
Worse still, they were would-be assassins.
The one mercy was—
They weren’t the ones who’d put holes through his body with flying blades.
Im Gang kept his expression neutral even as tension coiled tight within.
“It’s been a while… you remember, right?”
“Kya-ha-ha-ha! Sure, sure, I remember. Different sides now, can’t be helped.”
“Next time join our side. Oh, and word is some folks are grinding their teeth over you.”
“Huh? Who’d hold a grudge against a kid like me?”
“Ha-ha. A kid with a nickname like Stunning Coffin Tablet? Anyway, can’t say who exactly… but there you have it.”
Under normal circumstances, I would’ve sharpened my edges to avoid looking weak.
But not now.
If I acted cocky, they’d think, ‘Oh? Is this punk looking down on us?’
And what happens when we run into each other next time?
They’d pile on with five-against-one, beating you into permanent disability and early retirement.
Watching five ronin stomp a single man into a cripple had made my skin crawl completely.
That was the problem with these ronin—far too unpredictable.
Psychopaths, every last one of them.
“Next time let’s team up and make some real money.”
“Sounds good! That miraculous, impeccable flying blade technique of yours…”
Im Gang let it go in one ear and out the other, slipping through safely.
More ronin who recognized him appeared on the street.
Fortunately, they were Red Flow Sect.
But.
His gaze swept over her, assessing whether her condition was sound or compromised.
Growing distant like that, with only mental fatigue accumulating, she activated the skill.
[Treasure Search skill activated.]
Could it be because the skill level had risen by two ranks?
The map’s range expanded from ten meters to fourteen—a factor of 1.4 times wider.
And so the treasure search began.
‘Thump-thump-thump-thump!’
Multiple white dots glimmered softly across the map in various places.
“……Ah.”
It was a bust, after all.

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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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