Chapter 15
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Brother's Test
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"Everyone, leave us."
"...Yes, sir!"
Bator and the other servants shuffled out awkwardly. Marian and Nellin lingered until the end before reluctantly departing.
What is this... The atmosphere feels like a funeral.
And the one who'd created this mood, my eldest brother, opened his mouth, his words carrying a chill like frost in the air.
"You carved your name on a tombstone, they say."
Still the same as ever. Speaking only of himself.
"Yes, that's correct."
"And yet here you are, doing this?"
He tossed something at me. It was the embroidery I'd been working on every night lately as training and a hobby.
"Unable to even pick up a sword..."
His voice was stern.
But it seemed packed with suppressed anger.
Embroidery, something fit for women, was unacceptable for a son of a sword family.
This reaction was perfectly normal.
"Do you know what it means to participate in Trial Valley?"
"I know full well, brother."
"And yet you hold a needle instead of a sword? Ridiculous."
Even after decades since I'd last seen him, my brother felt as familiar as if it were yesterday.
He'd always treated me harshly... But that was just his way.
My brother approached.
His frame was noticeably larger than mine, his face dominating the space.
"No, you don't know. To the blood of Pador, Trial Valley is far more than some children's event—though it may seem that way on the surface."
He recited it like advice to me.
"You're not just Deyan. You're Deyan Pador. Every action you take becomes the Pador family's reputation."
Wow... He sure knows how to talk.
Should I keep listening quietly?
"Trial Valley is the first stage where Pador children prove themselves. Never take it lightly. We've always won there. Father did, I did, and so did second brother."
He glanced at the embroidery on the floor and furrowed his brow.
"That's how we've earned the world's recognition as lords of this land. And yet..."
He fixed me with a cold stare.
"How lightly do you plan to enter Trial Valley?"
I stared at him blankly.
My brother... but what a man.
At just twenty-five, he already seemed cut from the cloth of a family leader.
Or maybe he had no choice.
Eldest sons destined to lead families bore immense responsibility, no matter the house.
He must have been forced to live with that pressure.
And more than anyone, he'd strived to protect this family.
A memory from the past flashed by.
My brother had a warm heart.
Acting cold-blooded on the outside, but inside, he cared for his baby brother more than anyone.
Wasn't that why he'd come now? Out of worry for me?
Of course, there were other reasons too.
Worried his little brother might get hurt or bring shame if he went out recklessly.
In that case, as his brother, shouldn't I ease his concerns?
I spoke calmly to him.
"I didn't take it lightly, brother. I know exactly what Trial Valley means."
Too well, in fact.
This Trial Valley held special significance.
I had to win. No matter what. This was where the seeds of our family's downfall were sown.
Brother closed his eyes briefly before replying.
"Still throwing tantrums like a child. You're old enough now—it's disappointing."
"It's a shame you'd be disappointed without even seeing for yourself, brother."
He hadn't expected my retort; his eyebrow twitched slightly.
"Are you really that confident?"
"Of course."
"Then prove your effort to me."
"How?"
Brother drew his sword. In an instant, the room filled with his mana.
A suffocating pressure, like my breath was blocked.
At his age, this level...?
If we'd met when I was at the late-stage successor level, I'd have been in real trouble.
It was like facing the Sword Sage of Mount Hua in his youth.
"Stand firm, and I'll acknowledge you."
With those words, brother's form vanished, and the sword approached. At first, it was a tiny thing, like for a doll, but with each step closer, it grew larger.
By the time it reached me, it filled my entire vision, like a giant's blade tip.
The sword brimmed with insane killing intent.
A razor-sharp aura that felt like it would shred my body into a thousand pieces if I retreated.
Shiiiek...!
The wind torn by the blade tip whipped my hair.
But... did you think the Dark Venerable of the martial world would flinch at this?
I simply stood with arms crossed, gazing calmly at the blade tip.
"This enough?"
"......"
The giant sword vanished, and brother reappeared, sword sheathed.
Shocked, he stared at me silently.
"You... what did you do in that moment?"
"Who knows? Maybe something with that embroidery you look down on."
"......"
Silence fell. Brother tilted his head back, looking deflated.
"So you are a true Pador..."
He patted my shoulder.
"Fine. I won't stop you."
"Good to hear."
"Just promise me one thing."
"...?"
"If you enter, clear Trial Valley without fail. It's the proof of faith we give these territory folk."
"Naturally."
Brother smiled faintly.
Haven't seen him smile in ages...
"That embroidery... it's quite pretty. Didn't know you had such talent."
"I'm surprised myself lately. I'll make you one anytime, brother."
"......"
He didn't reply. But he didn't deny it either.
Typical brother.
With that, he opened the door and left.
After he was gone, alone now, another vision of brother unfolded like an illusion.
- Run away. Don't think of revenge—just survive, little brother...
Brother blocking enemies alone on the bridge, hounded relentlessly.
Bathed in blood, unable to move himself, yet protecting his brother without even a scratch...
I could never forget that.
I'd always thought brother was harsh.
But when the family was invaded, and I realized what he'd tried to leave behind, it was too late.
In that burning house, brother valued neither treasures nor buildings—only protecting me.
Unlike brother, who'd fought to save the family, I'd whined, using my frail body as an excuse.
Was there anything more foolish?
Don't seek revenge...?
Just live.
Brother hadn't wanted his brother dying in futile revenge.
When the family burned, I was the helpless invalid of Pador, unable to do anything alone.
How could such a man avenge anything...?
Back then, I could only flee desperately, following his words.
But not now.
I won't run. This family is my battlefield, one I absolutely cannot yield.
Now, I'll show brother—and our enemies—what Deyan Pador can change.
As the memory faded, Marian and Nellin peeked through the door slyly.
"Young master, may we come in?"
"Of course."
The door flew open at my permission.
And then...
Crash! Thud! Bang!
"...?"
Marian and Nellin were buried under a pile of servants who'd tumbled in.
They must have been really worried.
"No need to fret. Everyone, get back to your tasks."
But they wouldn't budge.
Man... this is embarrassing.
"Even brother approved it, so it's fine."
"Really?"
"I knew the eldest young master would say that!"
"Right! He's got such a kind heart."
The servants, who had been silent as if locked when brother was here, now chattered freely.
After wrapping up the embroidery gathering peacefully, butler Bator handed me a note.
"What's this?"
"The eldest young master asked me to deliver it."
"...?"
[Go to the Pador Forge. I'll send word ahead, so have them craft a sword just for you.]
Brother...
Always so blunt in his expressions, past and present.
Perfect timing.
I needed a decent weapon anyway.
Time to get one.
The outskirts of Pador County.
On the way to the blacksmiths' district.
"Are we finally going to see the famous Pador Forge?!"
Jayvolg was more excited than me, heading to get a weapon.
Sword fanatic.
I'd tried to go secretly, but he'd sniffed it out and insisted on tagging along.
"We are, but... could you tone down those eyes a bit?"
"Huh? What's wrong with my eyes...?"
"...Forget it."
Some things are better left unsaid.
Up ahead, smoke billowed thickly from the clustered forges. We'd arrived.
To gauge a forge's quality, check if smoke rises.
This one? Clouds of it—like thunderheads. Top marks.
Great houses like ours never excel in just one field. Balance across many makes a true noble lineage.
Weapons matter most to martial houses, so families like Pador sponsor smiths, secure prime materials relentlessly.
Other houses do the same.
"We've arrived."
The coachman's call.
Jayvolg hopped out, face lit like a kid at market for the first time.
"Let's go!"
"Cut it out. You're embarrassing me."
"Hahaha!"
"Stop..."
"Ahahaha!"
"I said stop!"
Only after needling his pressure points to seal his mute acupoint did I feel relieved. Jayvolg gestured wildly, trying to unblock it.
Finally peaceful.
Should've done this sooner.
"Meditate in silence."
"Mmph! Mmph!"
"I know, I know. I'll release it after. Stay put."
"Mmph! Mmmpmph!"
Leaving Jayvolg fiddling with his innocent lips, I headed to the forge.
A man in stiff cowhide awaited, clearly informed of my visit.
"You've arrived. I'm Chris, the smith guiding you at the young master's request."
"Yes, please take care of me."
"This way, then."
I followed Chris inside.
The forge layout resembled a massive tree.
A central path branched into specialized areas.
The section Chris led us to was impeccably clean, weapons neatly arrayed, even a high-end display case.
No riffraff welcome here.
"Everyone from the patriarch down to your eldest brother—save Mihail—has passed through this forge. Even the sword you carry was made here."
I glanced at my decorative blade.
Not bad at all.
Proven skill. It'd earn 'masterwork' anywhere.
Surveying the weapons Chris showed... impressive indeed.
In my past life, how many smiths had I met, how many blades appraised?
I knew weapons like a smith.
Especially from the Tang Clan, handling all varieties.
Like a scholar reciting poetry after three years at school—I'd glimpsed smiths' lives for decades.
One look told a blade's purpose, quality.
The clarity of its ring.
The skill in quenching and forging.
Sichuan Tang prized weapons above all.
Others sneered:
- The Sichuan Tang care only for trinkets, not their own bodies!
Of course, those fools all knelt to Tang in the end.
The old man hammering relentlessly in Chris's guided area paused.
He whipped around, barking at Chris.
"Hm? Chris?! What is it? I said no interruptions during work!"
Chris flinched despite his seniority, steadying himself.
"It's not that, elder. I brought someone to introduce."
"Someone...?"
The old man's gaze turned to me.
For a moment, it felt like he was peeling away my shell to probe my essence.
Huh?
Judging me?
Fine, then. I met his eyes without flinching.
Go ahead, measure me by your yardstick if you can.
"Hmph..."
He eyed me covertly, eyes lighting up in surprise.
"Pador has a kid like this?"
Casual speech?
Even with the age gap, a Pador smith dropping honorifics...
Who was he?
No memory. Probably met as a toddler.
"Deyan Pador. Son of the current Pador patriarch, Siel Pador."
"Oh ho...?"
He chuckled, striding over.
Gauging our heights, he threw his head back in booming laughter, Adam's apple bobbing.
"I made your cradle as a babe. You've grown so!"
"...?"
His hand kneaded my shoulder.
Thick, lid-like fingers massaged like inspecting forge iron. He grinned.
This old man...
A master in his realm.
Some folks reach peaks in non-martial fields.
They have uncanny intuition for people.
"Parkter. Friends with your father since you were a brat!"
"Ah...!"
I bowed immediately.
Father's friend—disrespect would be the real rudeness.
"Forgive my lack of recognition. Deyan Pador."
"I know, heh heh!"
Chris supplemented Parkter's curt intro.
"Former master smith of Pador Forge. Crafted not just the patriarch's sword, but for many famed knights."
A faint memory stirred.
Father had mentioned him.
- Isn't this sword beautiful? Parkter's life's masterpiece. Someday, I'd love for you all to wield one of his.
Yes.
That was it.
His forge proved it.
Weapons on one side—any unleashed would stir bloodshed.
Any would do.
Jayvolg panted like a dog, eyes glued to them.
But not for me.
Suits sword nuts like Nangong types, not my path.
Parkter saw me inspecting, face smug.
"Heard from your brother. Speak. I'll make it."
"Yes, it's..."
I described my old favorite from Tang days: the Dark Spirit Flying Dagger.
His head tilted, as if seeing something bizarre.
"Not a sword? You really need that?"
"Yes."
"Hah, first time a Pador asks for anything but a sword in my life."
Perplexed but grabbing his hammer.
Soon, he forged exactly as described.
"This it?"
"Perfect."
Twelve inky daggers, shaped like beast fangs.
At least the basics are covered.
Compared to my best friend, the martial world's top smith Monster Weapon Master, it fell short—but different strokes.
Wires on tip rings for butterfly-like control. More tweaks possible, but enough for now.
Weapon acquired. Time to prepare properly for Trial Valley.