Chapter 46
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 46
Chapter Title: The True Pador Swordsmanship
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Emma's shield split clean in half.
Leaving the fallen Emma behind, I returned to my spot.
Well, whose turn is it now?
"Wha...?"
Even that jovial Lan Ford couldn't find the words to continue.
"Y-Young master!"
"You're too cool, young master!"
Only Marian and Nellin jumped to their feet from their seats. I waved back at them with a smile.
The audience sat in stunned silence, as if they'd all lost their voices.
But every face was etched with pure shock.
Especially the group that had mocked me earlier—they were dazed, muttering among themselves.
"Th-the sickly kid... right?"
"Didn't we mean 'weapon' by mistake?"
"Did he cast some kind of spell?"
Take a good look and remember who you dismissed.
I pointed toward the North family camp and called out to Lan Ford.
"Why not get on with it? They look like they're itching to jump in."
Eastern flew into a rage the moment his sister went down.
"Ughhh... Sis! Sis!!"
Gilpert North grabbed the hysterical Eastern by the shoulder.
"Calm yourself. He just blocked her ki flow for a moment to knock her out. No serious injuries."
Oh ho.
He saw that, huh? So that's how it is?
The Four Great Houses are a cut above, alright.
That one from the Tral family, the referee Lan Ford, and now Gilpert North over there.
These three definitely read my movements.
Different caliber altogether?
This should provide some decent entertainment.
"Brother Gilpert! Let me go first!!"
It was more threat than request.
Eastern glared at me with eyes like burning coals.
Gilpert North glanced my way before nodding.
"Fine. Go ahead."
The moment permission dropped, Eastern stormed into the arena.
He flexed his gauntlets. The grating friction sound was followed by him barking like a rabid dog.
"Treating my weary sister like that—have you no noble pride?!"
"Pride? Going easy on her would be the real insult."
"What did you say...!!"
Eastern couldn't hold back his fury and lunged.
Lan Ford stepped in to block him. Gone was his usual oily charm; now he issued a stern warning.
"What do you think you're doing? The match hasn't even started—charging in like this..."
Lan Ford and the Ford family knights fixed Eastern with hard stares.
"Is this how you show disregard for House Ford?"
Eastern whipped around.
"...Hmph!"
He assumed his duel stance.
"I'll smash you flat, you pathetic Pador scum."
"Quiet down. We can't proceed like this."
"Ugh... ughhh!"
Lan Ford turned away in utter exasperation and flicked the shield into the air.
"Begin!"
But Eastern moved before the shield could even drop...
"Who gives a damn about that?!"
He used the shield as a springboard, leaping forward to slam his greatsword down.
"What the...!!"
Even Lan Ford hadn't seen it coming and scrambled to intervene.
But intervention only works after the accident happens.
"This is why brutes are such a pain... At least Ralph knows manners, but you? Nothing."
I didn't even draw my sword. I caught his greatsword with my bare hand.
"Ughhh!"
Eastern's feet hit the ground.
He poured every ounce of mana into the blade, trying to shove it through me.
But.
"Is that all you've got?"
"...!"
I hadn't budged an inch from where I stood.
Pathetic, wasn't it?
All bulk, no brains—a half-baked fool who couldn't even distribute his power properly.
"Shut your mouth!!"
Mana surged wildly through Eastern's greatsword.
As the rampaging force built up, the ground beneath his legs began to crack.
Time to butcher a pig.
I casually released my strength and sidestepped.
Eastern couldn't control his own momentum and tumbled forward, greatsword and all.
The blade stabbed deep into the ground.
But he didn't panic. He ditched the sword right away. Decent reflexes, at least. Now he swung his gauntleted fist to pulverize me.
Our hands met and locked.
In the sudden test of strength, a smug grin spread across his face.
"Heh heh heh! Brainless idiot—not dodging?"
"No reason to."
"Fool...!"
Was it the size difference between us?
The stands' view was blocked for a moment.
Instead, the audience's murmurs rang out crystal clear.
"It's over."
"Why didn't he dodge? Everyone in the east knows not to go toe-to-toe with Eastern on strength. Too bad he didn't. Nothing left to see."
"Gauntlets too. Grabbing barehanded... that's suicide."
Aha.
So that's where all that confidence came from?
Eastern's eyes gleamed with malice.
"Heh heh heh, you're done for! You'll end up just like that ugly Ralph bastard! Not just you—the dimwit behind you, your arrogant brothers—I'll crush them all!"
"Oh? Sure."
I get it. A build like that without the power to back it up? Unfair, right?
But I didn't dodge because there was no need.
The fool wasn't me. It was the lump of meat in front.
I just gave his hand a light twist.
And the result?
Cr-r-rack!
"Gaaahhh!"
A pig's squeal followed.
With his hand still twisted, I scolded him.
"Tsk. What kind of noise is that for a big lug like you? Or... are you actually a pig?"
"Y-You... d-dog... dog!"
I wrenched harder. His gauntlet shattered, and blood dripped from his mangled hand.
Sensing something had gone terribly wrong, Eastern tried to yell surrender.
Can't have that.
Snap!
I seized both his wrists in one hand. Gripped too hard?
His wrists crumbled like dry twigs.
My other hand clamped over his mouth.
Surrender?
Who said you get to decide?
Weapons are sheathed only at the mercy of the victor.
"Sorry, but you never should have tried grip strength."
Crunch.
"Mmmph!!"
Not just Eastern—a lot of people make this mistake.
They think they can't lose in raw power.
It wasn't just here. The martial world was the same.
Even though the Sichuan Tang Clan was synonymous with terror, people deluded themselves into thinking they could win up close.
Because the Tang specialized in hidden weapons.
Wrong. The Tang had developed fist strikes, elbow techniques, knee blows, leg sweeps—all sorts of close-range arts.
Ah, but that's partly true.
They hadn't advanced as much as poisons and hidden weapons. Fair point.
Sometimes close combat could disadvantage a Tang warrior.
But one absolute rule in the martial world:
Never shake hands with a Tang fighter!
Going grip-to-grip like Eastern here.
No one can match the Tang in that.
Those who wield throwing daggers must master extreme precision to control trajectory and force.
Above all, they temper their fingers.
Thus, the Tang boast grip strength beyond any warrior.
Snap-crack!!
"Gaaackkk!"
Eastern's body convulsed wildly.
He'd long given up resisting, reduced to enduring the agony.
Lan Ford rushed in to stop it.
Hey, where do you think you're going?
Thwack...!!
I deliberately booted Eastern away. He went flying helplessly.
His shield crumpled in the process. And where he finally skidded to a halt...
"...How dare you."
Was right at Gilpert North's feet.
His face was slightly flushed.
But apparently not enough?
He still held his composure.
I shook my sheathed sword at him playfully.
"Wonder if you can make me draw this."
Gilpert North took a step.
And in an instant.
"You could've stopped, but didn't. That right?"
He was right in front of me.
I smirked and answered.
"Oh, that? Ralph got hit, so I figured tenfold payback. That's what I did."
I sneered down at the two unconscious North siblings.
"Hadn't even finished, and they were already wobbling."
"......"
Gilpert North drew his sword.
Ruuuuumble...!
The arena quaked.
The stands shuddered, and noble heirs ducked under shields fearing stray sparks.
Just unsheathing his blade, yet his mana blanketed the field.
Like his fury was contagious, the audience chattered their teeth.
The only ones standing firm were the heirs of the Four Great Houses.
"Come test if I wobble too."
But even they flinched at the sheer power.
A crane among chickens.
The phrase fit Gilpert North to perfection.
When was it?
Last time I'd felt such a prickling aura?
Ah, right.
The Heavenly Demon. Exactly like the first time I met the Demonic Cult's Heavenly Demon.
The Heavenly Demon's image overlapped with Gilpert North.
Eyes that lorded over all beneath them.
That arrogant gaze mirrored the Heavenly Demon's.
The audience would think Gilpert was furious right now.
Classic misread.
He wasn't the type to rage over a pair of siblings getting dunked on.
That wasn't anger. It was curiosity.
Those two North siblings weren't even on his radar from the start.
To him, he was House North.
He was simply wondering:
Can you entertain me?
That eager glint in his eyes.
This level of presence, for sure.
Power worthy of such youthful arrogance.
Even I vaguely recalled the Heavenly Demon.
Lan Ford, watching our standoff, silently tossed up the shield this time.
Then shook his head and turned away.
"One side attacks before the shield drops, the other kicks a defenseless foe. Do whatever you want..."
He grumbled as he retreated all the way to the stands.
In other words, he was washing his hands of it.
Whatever.
Just what both sides wanted.
Gilpert North held his sword vertically against his chest.
A stance proud as a crane.
The shield fell again, but the roar of the crowd drowned it out.
Everyone anticipated the clash: House Pador's rising star versus House North's genius.
The shield hit the ground, and Gilpert North's sword aura hurtled toward me.
A scorching greeting right from the opening?
This... won't do.
I drew my sword and cleaved his aura in two.
Gilpert North lived up to his fame—not someone to toy with lightly.
Thud...!
In a blink, he folded space itself to close in.
Repaying the exact move I'd used on Emma, he traced the same sword path.
You do it, so can I—is that it?
Might smack of bravado. But the vibration riding his blade told me otherwise.
Gilpert North's talent was the real deal.
The two swords slid past, aimed to cleave their wielders.
But the cuts were mere phantoms.
And then...
Drip.
"Rain?"
Marian's voice.
Yeah. To someone ignorant of martial arts like Marian, it might sound that way.
But...
Afterimages flickered into existence across the arena, then vanished.
Accompanied by the patter of rain.
Drops intensified one by one... then ceased in an instant.
The source? Our footwork.
Finally emerging: him and me.
Our crossed blades.
Shhhwaaa!!
The clashing auras scattered the storm of phantoms.
Gilpert North stood before me, spewing red mana—unlike before, he couldn't contain his frustration.
"Don't hide your skill!"
The audience gasped in disbelief.
Well, then.
"Busted, huh?"
I'd deliberately cut loose with Gilpert in a flashy display.
Made it so everyone here could see crystal clear: pretending to trade blows evenly with him.
Pure theater.
My appetizer for the crowd.
After all, doesn't the finest meat taste best after a sip of aperitif?
"Alright, we've had our fun... time to get serious?"
I shoved him back.
I recalled the grip from my very first sword lesson.
Just assuming the stance filled me with reverence and elation.
It's been a while...
What I was about to unleash wasn't Sichuan Tang hidden weapons, nor the Plum Blossom sword of the Volcanic Sword Sage.
A blade embodying the knight's ideal.
House Pador's great swordsmanship.
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