Chapter 67
Chapter 67
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 67
Chapter Title: Ghosts of the Past (5)
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Dark forest path, faint moonlight filtered down.
Luella, seated on horseback, had a cloth wrapped around her ankle, her face pale.
She had been on the brink of death just moments ago.
The expression of someone who had been rescued.
Unless one had endured similar ordeals or was an executioner who had slain countless humans, that look was only natural.
"Are you alright?"
Chillblade asked in a low voice.
Luella nodded, but her voice trembled.
"Those people... said they had a way to cure the illness, but they deceived me..."
"I know. That was their goal from the start."
He spat the words through gritted teeth, his face twisted in fury.
Luella sensed something off in that voice and expression.
But the feeling passed in an instant.
The relief of her rescue overwhelmed any sense of unease.
Even though, rationally speaking, there were more than one or two things that didn't add up.
"They were remnants of the fallen kingdom. They planned to rise again using you. For now... trust me."
The memory of being dragged away by the kidnappers was still vivid, leaving her no room to doubt Chillblade's words.
Luella nodded and glanced around.
"But where are we headed? It doesn't look like the Assault Hall."
"Pursuers are on our tail. I need to shake them off."
"What about Ian and Lady Irena? If we meet up with them..."
Chillblade shook his head.
"No, breaking through the encirclement won't be easy."
"Encirclement...?"
"Looks like more remnants are still out there. They're pulling out all the stops to get you back."
As far as Luella knew, Chillblade was one of the mighty Southern Seven Swords.
She had long noticed how others at the Assault Hall treated him with anything but casual respect.
"Lord Chillblade, you're one of the Southern Seven Swords... and it's still tough?"
This was reasonable suspicion.
A setup so perfect it begged acceptance, while every assumption screamed denial.
"...Yes."
A brief hesitation.
The subtle gap between question and answer.
In that moment, Luella's heart pounded.
She ducked low in a flash.
Kicking the horse's flank hard with her foot, she slid off like she was greased.
Wind whipped through the air, the cloth on her ankle unraveling as dirt sprayed up.
For a split second, she was free.
"......!!"
But in that blink, a swift hand snatched her nape.
Chillblade's iron grip struck like lightning, clamping her neck bone.
The vise of decades wielding a blade dug into her bones.
"Gh...!"
Suffocating agony blurred her vision.
She thrashed her limbs, but it was like shaking a stone pillar—it didn't budge.
Hooves thundered as her balance shattered, her body yanked into the air.
Chillblade muttered under his breath.
"Well, dragging her along fully lucid was asking for trouble anyway."
To divert that butcher's attention, he'd twisted the plan into triple knots.
For a cleaner kill.
The bigger the scheme, the more details to mind and mop up.
Normally, he'd avoid so many variables—they gummed up execution—but...
'Rusted.'
Too long masquerading as a perfumer.
Forcing dormant instincts back online, Chillblade spurred forward again.
Winning Luella over was just about efficiency.
No real harm if it failed.
Besides, who'd rationally buy "sacrifice yourself on the spot" without a sales pitch?
Skip it, and you'd just burn extra time and sweat.
That was it.
Plan still solid.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇ Meanwhile, inside the Assault Hall amid rising tension, I gathered the instructors.
"Find Chillblade. Collect every sighting, no matter how minor."
Chillblade had vanished two weeks back.
Before Luella's disappearance, but suspicion was mounting.
Culprit or not, we needed eyes on him.
The instructors mobilized at once to track him down.
Gathering sightings was step one.
Soon enough, queries blanketed markets, inns, and street corners—every back alley in the South.
Chillblade's fame brought a flood of reports.
Trouble was, none hit what we needed.
No solid word of him hauling a brown-haired girl somewhere.
Like assembling a shattered mosaic, meaningful pieces hid amid worthless shards. Time sink.
The clock ticked, and Luella slipped farther away with every second.
I couldn't afford to wait.
So I ramped up manpower.
I was still hailed as the hero who'd felled the beast that ravaged the capital.
Rebellion had gutted the royals; throne sat empty.
They hunted distant bloodlines, but prospects nearby were ash from rebel torches.
No far-flung branch ever claimed the crown.
Least of all a rebel ringleader.
All eyes turned to the Sword Lord anyway.
Rebels shoving me onto the throne? Awkward optics for everyone.
I leaned into it.
Donned the hero-savior mantle gladly to hunt Chillblade.
Pretext dead simple.
"Chillblade took the king's coin to aid kidnappings. Bring him in."
Testimonies trickled in, then poured.
Ancient sightings to fresh leads.
Deeper South meant thinner Chillblade trails—thicker northward.
Hit a wall on personal intel, so I pivoted.
Started hoovering every northern kingdom happening lately.
Rumors, tales, footprints, guest sketches.
Scraped it raw, and intel finally surfaced.
"Saw a guy at market heading northbound road. Sword...? Wait, had a long pole on his back. Length matches that blade."
"Inn patron with Southern drawl laced in Empire twang."
"Hunter swore he saw a brown-haired girl with someone. No face check though..."
I chewed over each one.
Sheer volume meant sorting wheat from chaff ate hours.
But payoff came.
'Empire twang guy and Chillblade: two different people.'
Empire-accent kid was the trafficking crew's runt.
If he'd snatched Luella, what role for Chillblade?
Patterns emerged as more piled up.
"Six days back, a warhorse vanished. Owner's pride—not for amateurs."
Fresh rumor, Southern fringes not deep North.
"Ah, yeah—spotted a match recent. Empire lilt mixed in..."
Trafficker kid leaked sightings galore, unlike Chillblade.
No track scrubbing, no shadows.
Moves screamed shady.
Pops into trafficking out of nowhere, nabs Luella next.
Tracked two trails: Chillblade and the kid. Two ghosts.
Burned time, bodies—no jackpot.
"Last night, a corpse washed up riverside. Sword gashes from front to back. Villagers too spooked to fish it out."
Bloated mess, face gone.
But build and look matched the Empire-accent runt.
Someone slit him clean.
'Dropped right before collar. Stalling tactic?'
I pieced the puzzle inward.
'Inn trail, ghost horse, river float—all northbound. Empire slip...'
Instructors swapped dubious glances, but my mind sketched a picture.
Chillblade cloaked like a phantom,
but overlooked crumbs formed a faint trail.
I eyed the testimony sprawl on the table, replaying it all mentally.
Noise drowned signal.
Time to core it.
Two threads.
One: Empire runt from traffickers.
Two: Shady figure pegged as Chillblade.
Runt grabs Luella direct, bolts south, gets iced.
Chillblade claims "off to meet my lord," ghosts north.
Hypothesis locked.
Runt on Chillblade's leash snatches Luella, flees dead opposite to burn clock.
Search wrapped.
"Chillblade fled to the Empire."