Chapter 59
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 59
Chapter Title: The Great Tiger's Deception
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A village lantern flickered dimly in the darkness, barely holding on like a wretched soul.
Beneath that pitiful light, the villagers trudged listlessly toward some destination.
The mercenaries flanked them, keeping a watchful eye to prevent any escapes.
I slipped subtly into the crowd of villagers and joined the procession.
The group was remarkably diverse. There were even a few children here and there, along with elderly folks who could barely walk.
In short, everyone except the dead had been dragged out.
Of course, the people here had eyes as lifeless as the dead themselves.
Among them, an old man and a young man stepped out from the group.
They bowed their heads to a mercenary watching the line, one whose prominent goatee mustache stood out.
"U-Um... Captain."
"What?"
"This person is too old... Could you please excuse him from the work?"
The goatee-mustache mercenary eyed the old man.
Even at a glance, the elder looked frail, as if lifting a pickaxe would be beyond him.
"Old timer, you got debts?"
The old man nodded faintly.
"Yes..."
"Yeah? How'd that happen?"
"No money. The land wouldn't sell... so I took out a loan."
"Tough break, real tough."
The goatee-mustache mercenary snickered.
"But I can't help it. You took the debt, you gotta pay it back, right?"
The old man's face twisted in anguish. Instead, the young man who'd come with him replied in a trembling voice.
"Still, he's an elder. Could you show a little mercy..."
Thwack!
"Guh...!"
The young man clutched his stomach and collapsed. The goatee-mustache mercenary spat roughly on the ground.
"I try to be nice, and you puke back at me? Is it my fault you took the loan? Huh? You borrow it yourselves and then whine at me?"
The goatee-mustache mercenary kicked the fallen man a few times, then stomped on him and bellowed.
"Listen up, all of you! Are we forcing you? This ain't forced labor! You borrowed money from Lord Cecil 'cause you were broke, and he's kindly letting you work it off. So why you keep bitching when we show some consideration, huh?"
His shout drained the color from the villagers' faces.
"If you wanna leave right now, go ahead. But remember this."
The goatee-mustache mercenary tapped his sword.
"Guys like us are in this village to catch anyone who runs. Got it?"
When the villagers didn't respond, he roared again.
"Answer me!"
"Yes..."
Satisfied, he turned to the bewildered old man.
"You're off the hook, old timer. You take his place."
He pointed at the man he'd just stomped.
"Pay off his debt instead. If you're gonna pay."
"W-What? No, that's."
"You act tough, you pay the price. Keep trying to weasel out? Piss me off more and I'll cut you!"
He issued the threat.
The old man picked up the pickaxe again and bowed his head.
"I-I'm sorry. I'll pay my debt. Me."
"Huh? I said no. That guy's got it."
"It's my debt. I should work it off..."
"Tch, sigh, old timer. I feel bad for you, but no helping it. If only you hadn't borrowed like that weirdo Bernard or whatever. Living fine while messing around, huh?"
The old man looked sorrowful. He replied in a weak voice.
"Yes... our fault."
"Good, now get back to work."
The goatee-mustache mercenary shoved the old man forward and clapped his hands.
"Alright, everyone, move it! Lots of quota today—get going!"
From the end of the restarting procession, I watched the goatee-mustache mercenary's face.
'Am I too merciful?' 'Honestly, I'd kill the bastard, but too many've died already.' it seemed to say.
Perfect. He'll do.
I slipped out of the line and headed toward the mercenaries.
The goatee-mustache mercenary eyed me strangely.
"Huh? What're you?"
Just the right guy.
His only crime? Meeting my eyes.
I grabbed the mercenary's collar without warning and slammed him to the ground.
"Gaaack!!"
As the goatee-mustache mercenary flailed, nearby mercenaries drew their weapons and rushed over.
I glared at them and said,
"Guess Cecil didn't train you. 'What're you?' The nerve."
Mentioning Cecil made them hesitate and sheath their weapons.
"Y-You know Lord Cecil?"
"None of your business. You there."
I pointed at a bald mercenary.
"Uh...?"
"'Uh'?"
Smack!
I backhanded the bald mercenary's cheek. He passed out instantly.
"Who talks like that to me?"
My brazen attitude made the mercenaries flinch.
I see it all, you punks.
Don't know how to judge this, huh?
I'll tell you.
"I'm pointing again. You there."
"Yes...!"
This time, instant reaction.
"Go relay a message to Cecil."
"W-What should I say?"
"Nah, forget it. Just guide me."
"Y-Yes, sir!"
Momentum is key in anything.
Know why people fall for con artists?
Clever tricks? Smart heads?
Sure, but something's more important.
Con artists are shameless.
They strut confidently while scamming, wrapping nonsense in plausible lies.
All from sheer audacity.
That's what sways people. Poison and hidden weapons exploit that psychology too... Nah.
Too far. Scratch that.
Anyway, my commotion halted the entire procession.
No good dragging this out, so I frowned and waved them off.
"You lot, do your jobs. Don't just stand there."
To them, I was a tiger. An existence they shouldn't even glance at.
I had to make them see it that way.
Those two were sacrificial lambs—to instill fear that they'd end up the same if they tried anything.
With a status seeming higher than Cecil's, the mercenaries bowed automatically.
"U-Understood."
The mercenaries and villagers resumed moving.
Meanwhile, they supported their fallen comrades.
"Let's go."
"Yes."
Thanks to the mercenary mistaking me for a VIP, I reached the village hall safely.
Other mercenaries stopped me now and then, but...
"Lord Cecil's guest."
"Huh?"
"Move it. Out of the way."
The mercenary cleared the path.
Following him, I scanned the surroundings.
Noting mercenary positions, building heights—all factors deciding battle outcomes.
While taking it all in, he led me toward the central building.
"This way."
The village center's building looked like a town hall.
Hm?
Faint heat hazes shimmered around the hall.
Magic?
Feels like a formation.
Good thing I didn't rush in and kept my disguise.
Would've gotten caught in that spell and paid dearly.
Black mages are sly like that.
Sure enough.
Creeeak.
The door opened.
But as it did... a numbing stench seeped out.
What the hell?
Growing poison herbs?
Similar to opening the Sichuan Tang Clan's poison vault.
The difference? Ours screams poison—fatal to normal martial artists.
Villagers and mercenaries passing through the door don't seem affected.
That's why these thugs hold this Ehalin village...
Wanted to investigate more, but stopping here would look suspicious.
Had to follow before drawing doubt. Just as the mercenary led me in, a hawk-nosed man blocked us.
This time, higher rank than the mercenary, who bowed politely.
The hawk-nosed man glanced at me and asked the mercenary,
"Who's this?"
As the mercenary started introducing me, I raised a hand, radiating irritation.
"Keep asking 'who'? How many times? Shut up and guide me to Cecil, worm."
"...What?"
The hawk-nosed man glared briefly.
Good. He's an officer.
Different aura from regular mercenaries. As Naras said, officers were decently skilled.
Tough to take down in one hit?
Not mid-tier knight level, but better than low-tier knights.
Ten like him.
Hard to go straight in. At least for frontal assault.
I stepped closer to the hawk-nosed man, voice icier.
"Ask once more... Just guide me to Cecil. Or want to make this bigger later?"
His face twisted at the threat, but he saw the guiding mercenary shake his head silently.
The hawk-nosed man sighed.
"My apologies."
"Fine. Perfect timing. Guide me to Cecil yourself."
"Understood. This way."
Wear a mask of iron shamelessness.
That's how you fool the enemy.
I strode casually with the hawk-nosed man toward Cecil's room.
Maybe because he was an officer, no more questions from mercenaries.
A bloodless entry.
No wonder they say aim high.
Soon, following him to Cecil's room, that odd magical aura returned.
Magic here too?
Thorough bastard. Good I disguised properly.
Cecil's door was ajar—prior visitor?
The hawk-nosed man opened it and bowed to the man inside.
Since an officer bowed, this was the mercenary captain.
"Lord Lean, guest for Lord Cecil."
"Lord Cecil's?"
A man with thick whiskers from sideburns to chin met my eyes.
Hmm...
Fitting for a captain?
Mid-tier knight or higher. Tricky. His scrutiny showed he wasn't sloppy.
Such guys are tough. Seasoned, no mistakes.
Likely led the mercenaries with skill and experience.
Sure enough.
The man called Lean asked,
"Apologies, but could you share your name? Procedural necessity—please understand."
He even bowed politely.
Judgment call here.
No real name. Evil Society hides identities thoroughly.
If mercenaries just guard the village, captain might not know Cecil's ties.
Then...
"Tell Cecil: a guest whose name is forbidden. He'll understand."
Evil Society.
No way they'd reveal names.
"...Understood. I'll relay that."
Lean entered, reopening the door.
Moments later...
"Come in."
Lean held the door, bowing.
"Right."
I followed into the room.
Door shut. Unusually dim inside.
Deliberate.
Black mage precaution—magic wards in the room.
As I stepped toward his aura...
[Stop.]
A voice from the dark.
"Stop? So suspicious."
Can't drag talk. I recited their group name only they know.
Tigers never flinch. Lies cover lies.
Let's impersonate properly.
"Evil Society. That enough?"
Darkness lifted.
A plain office appeared. A stern, goat-faced middle-aged man stared at me.
That's Cecil.
"No contact. What's this about?"
"Fool. Know who you're mouthing off to?"
"...?"
"I'm the new one filling Nemeth's vacant seat after his death."
If playing tiger, might as well be a great one.
From now on... I'm Evil Society's new cadre.