Chapter 127: Cut the Crap! You Bastards! (3)
Chapter 127: Cut the Crap! You Bastards! (3)
Alex and the others, who had been stunned senseless by Patrick’s outrageous remarks, finally snapped out of it a beat late. And then…
“You crazy bastard!”
“Apologize! Apologize right now!”
“No, get on your knees and beg!”
“We are so sorry. We apologize on his behalf!”
His comrades pounced on Patrick.
Carlin, in particular, looked absolutely terrified as he pushed down on the back of Patrick’s head, trying to force him into a bow.
“Hey, you guys…”
Patrick kicked them off and roared.
“Did I say anything wrong? If some old geezer is talking nonsense, isn’t it only natural for anyone to be suspicious like me?”
Watching Patrick scream at the top of his lungs, his friends clutched their heads in despair.
Why were they so weak?
If only they had the strength, they could have shut that big mouth of his.
“Hoho… Hahaha…”
The Sword Saint was at a loss for words.
He had considered many possibilities, but he never imagined he would receive a reaction like this.
He turned to Patrick and asked, “Was my offer really that unappealing to you?”
“No, it’s not about whether it’s appealing or not. I’m asking if you’ve lost your damn mind.”
When Patrick spoke with a tone that went beyond mere rudeness and crossed into outright provocation, the others squeezed their eyes shut.
There was no stopping him now.
If the Sword Saint drew his blade in a fit of rage, who could possibly stand in his way?
However, the Sword Saint’s reaction defied their expectations.
“What exactly is it that displeases you so much?”
As expected of the Sword Saint.
As expected of the paragon of all knights.
Instead of flying into a blind rage, he showed the common sense to ask for a reason first.
Faced with the Sword Saint’s overflowing consideration, Patrick merely snorted.
“Ha, is this old man really asking because he doesn’t know?”
“……”
“Wow, he really doesn’t know. This is just…”
“Explain yourself.”
“Doesn’t becoming your disciple mean I’d have to transfer my allegiance to the Empire?”
“That is correct.”
“Then why the hell are you telling a noble from another country to suddenly switch sides? Is that something a sane person says?”
“Hmm…”
The Sword Saint was taken aback.
In principle, Patrick was right.
A noble of a kingdom—especially a landed noble like Patrick, whose father held territory—was born with an inherent duty of loyalty to the Atronia Kingdom.
Asking such a noble to change their allegiance was no different from inciting treason.
However, that was the theoretical side of things. In reality, didn't people often switch sides for the sake of honor and career advancement?
Furthermore, he was the Sword Saint.
Common sense dictated that an offer to be taken in as his disciple wasn't something to get so angry about.
“Think carefully. Think about what would be more beneficial for your future,” the Sword Saint said, trying to calmly persuade him.
At that, Patrick’s expression twisted into a scowl, and he let out a crooked smile.
“Ahhh… My future? Benefits?”
“Yes. Give it some thought. It’s only because your talent is such a waste that I’m saying—”
“Does this old man take me for some kind of idiot?”
Patrick cut him off.
Then, he continued in a voice dripping with sarcasm.
“‘I’m the great Sword Saint, so becoming my disciple will be much better for you than living as some backwater noble,’ is that it?”
“……”
“‘So throw your loyalty to the kingdom, your duties as a noble, and your honor into the gutter, and make the choice that’s practically beneficial for you’?”
“…Ugh…”
“Isn’t that what you’re saying? Huh?”
“Ahem…”
The Sword Saint looked deeply embarrassed.
Though the interpretation was incredibly aggressive and cynical, the core of it was spot on.
Patrick let out a short laugh.
“I guess people are the same wherever you go…”
He had heard offers like this plenty of times in his past life.
[If you come to our sect, you will undoubtedly be the next Sect Leader. You could become the leader of the Great Wudang Sect. Do you not understand what that means?]
[Become a son-in-law of our family. Do you really want to waste your life being held back by some rural sect?]
[Benefactor, do you not realize how great an opportunity this is for your life? Are you going to throw this chance away just because you don't want to shave your head?]
The leaders of prestigious Orthodox sects, the heads of Great Families, and even the baldies of the Shaolin Temple…
Those high and mighty bastards, full of their own self-importance, had offered sweet rewards behind the scenes, like they were trying to lure a child with candy.
Of course, Jincheon, the Radiant Dragon Hero, had rejected them all.
On the surface…
[What? I can’t get married? You want me to live alone forever? Go live in your own dojo then.]
[What was that? Your daughter is hideously ugly.]
[What? Shave my head? Monk, do you want to die?]
He had rejected them with excuses like those, but his true motive was only one thing.
A single bowl of porridge.
[Eat.]
During those cold and hungry childhood days.
That one bowl of porridge his Master had handed him, even when he had nothing for himself.
As long as he remembered that warmth, Patrick would never abandon the Twin Dragon Sect.
The Sect Leader of the Nine Great Sects?
The Chief Manager of the Five Great Families?
Patrick was a man who had kicked all of that aside.
‘It’s not like I feel that much gratitude toward the Atronia Kingdom. But still…’
Images of his home flickered through Patrick’s mind.
His father, who did his best despite his lack of ability to protect the simple, smiling people living in a harsh environment crawling with monsters.
The vassals who trusted and followed that father.
His mother, who loved his father and stayed by his side unchangingly.
The soldiers who followed his lead, even when he pushed them to their limits despite their lack of talent.
And those green, ‘Wuooh-ing’ bastards.
‘There’s quite a lot.’
A smirk escaped his lips.
In any case, the things he had to protect in this world already existed.
They had already been decided.
It was impossible for Patrick to abandon them of his own volition.
Reminding himself of that fact, Patrick smirked and spoke to the Sword Saint.
“Look here, Duke.”
“…What is it?”
“Give up on your pointless greed, apologize, and get lost.”
“What did you say?”
“Otherwise, you might find it hard to walk out of here on your own two feet.”
The Sword Saint let out a hollow laugh at Patrick’s threat.
“Heh… Hahaha…”
What did this brat just say to him?
A threat? To him?
He had been patient because he didn't want to waste the boy's talent, but this…
“You’re laughing? Right. You think this is funny?”
As if to show his words weren't just an empty threat, Patrick reached for his twin swords.
At that, the smile vanished from the Sword Saint’s face, and he stared intently at Patrick.
‘He’s serious?’
The Sword Saint felt a chill run down his spine.
The brat standing before him was genuinely intending to draw his sword against him.
No, looking at his eyes, it seemed he even intended to win.
Maybe before, he could claim he didn't know who he was dealing with.
But now, he had revealed his identity.
A Duke of the Empire and the man the world called the Sword Saint.
Against such a man, this brat was seriously planning to draw his blade and strike.
In an instant, two emotions rose within the Sword Saint: annoyance and a competitive spirit.
‘This is absurd.’
The exchange they had earlier was impressive.
Though it was only one move, the attack the boy had launched was sharp enough to make him counterattack reflexively, and the brat had even managed to dodge that counter. But…
‘To feel a competitive spirit… Me…’
For a moment, he thought about playing along one more time. But…
This wasn't right.
He couldn't do this.
It was already a breach of etiquette to enter another country’s waiting room at Arcana, but to have a sword fight here?
That would be an act that brought shame upon the names of the Empire and his family.
He was an adult with too much to lose to simply act on impulse.
In the end, he took a step back and spoke.
“If my offer was offensive, you do not have to accept it.”
“Is that how you apologize in the Empire?”
“…I apologize for my rudeness.”
It was the ultimate compromise.
If he, a Duke of the Empire and the Sword Saint, had conceded this much, it was only normal for the other party to understand and move on.
Yes. It was normal and standard, but…
“High-ranking bastards are all the same.”
“……”
“Look at how stiff his neck is for someone who’s supposed to be apologizing. I wonder if it’ll soften up if I snap it into pieces?”
Normal? Standard?
A man who had absolutely no connection to such things was standing right here.
The killing intent and fighting spirit had vanished from Patrick’s face, replaced by a malicious playfulness and a thuggish demeanor.
And then, he grinned at the trembling Sword Saint and said…
“Rudeness? What exactly was rude?”
“……”
“I don’t really get it. Hmm? Who’s going to know if you just say it like that? You have to be specific.”
“……”
“You need to say exactly what kind of rudeness you committed, why you’re sorry, and how much compensation you’re going to set—Guegh!”
“Give it a rest, you crazy bastard!”
“Are you a girlfriend who’s finally caught him in a lie?!”
“Stop it. Please, just stop!”
While the Sword Saint’s face turned as red as a ripe apple, Alex and the others intervened again.
They smacked Patrick on the back of the head while simultaneously trying to restrain him and gag him.
The Sword Saint’s anger subsided slightly at the sight of that ridiculous spectacle, and in the meantime, Professor Late stepped forward to settle the situation.
“I am truly sorry, Duke. Our boy is still quite immature…”
“You all must have a difficult time.”
“Words cannot even begin to describe it.”
Seeing Professor Late’s miserable expression, the Sword Saint’s anger faded, replaced by a surge of sympathy.
“What did I do wro—Mmph! Mmm!”
“Tighten the gag!”
“Die. Just die. Please, just die!”
Patrick tried to escalate the situation again, but his comrades successfully managed to gag him.
Then, Professor Late looked at the Sword Saint and said, “We are grateful that you have looked upon young Master Schneider so favorably.”
“Hmm…”
“However, he is a noble of our Atronia Kingdom.”
“Ahem…”
“Therefore, we will accept your precious offer to cherish a young talent in spirit only. I hope you can find it in your heart to understand.”
It was a polite but firm rejection.
It wasn't a head-on collision like Patrick’s, but it was a rejection nonetheless.
And just as Patrick had mentioned earlier, he clearly pointed out the Sword Saint’s rudeness by highlighting the difference in their national allegiances.
“Sigh… I shall take my leave then.”
“Safe travels.”
The Sword Saint let out a deep sigh and left the Atronia Kingdom’s waiting room.
Once he was gone, the others let out sighs of relief.
“I… I thought I was going to die.”
“This is why my mom told me to be careful about who I befriend.”
“What the hell was that, all because of this crazy bastard?”
“My lifespan just got shorter.”
Everyone’s gaze turned toward Patrick, who was tied up in a corner.
“Mmph! Mmm?!”
Even while bound tightly, Patrick was fuming, arguing as if to say, ‘What did I do?’
‘Forget Arcana or whatever, I just want to go home.’
‘I miss my mom.’
‘Oh, Yuzef…’
Unfortunately, the tournament was still far from over.
* * *
“Ooh, the view is nice.”
On the roof of a tall building in Richmond.
Someone who had climbed up there sat down, uncorked a bottle of liquor in one hand, and began to drink straight from the bottle.
“Kaaah… Good. The view is so nice the alcohol goes down easy.”
Naturally, this was Patrick.
Now that he was an adult, he could officially drink without worrying about others, but old habits die hard, don't they?
In his past life, he drank to avoid his Master. He drank to avoid his wife.
After being reborn, he drank to hide from his parents, and he drank to hide from his professors.
“Come to think of it, alcohol might actually taste better when you drink it in secret.”
Smacking his lips, Patrick took another swig and enjoyed the buzz spreading through his body, using Richmond’s brilliant night view as his snack.
“Sword Saint, huh…”
When the bottle was half empty, the word that escaped Patrick’s lips was ‘Sword Saint.’
“I guess there are monsters like that here too.”
Honestly, he was surprised.
Since being reborn, he had seen many amazing things.
Magic and Divine Power were truly fascinating.
To the point where he thought he could make a fortune if he could take them back to the Murim world.
But martial arts were different.
Seeing the knights of this world, who fought with heavy armor and shields in a simple and crude manner, Patrick had thought:
‘Incompetent and primitive bastards.’
He believed it would take a thousand years for the martial arts of this world to catch up to the profound martial studies of the Central Plains.
Perhaps it was because the density of Qi in this world was high, or because of the existence of magic and Divine Power.
So, while he knew of the existence of the Sword Saint, he hadn't paid much attention.
At best, he figured they’d be around the mid-to-high levels of the Peak Realm.
But the Sword Saint he actually met was beyond his expectations.
It was surprising that he had snuck into the room undetected, and it was also surprising that he had blocked the somewhat serious attack Patrick had launched afterward.
‘He even counterattacked.’
To others, it might have looked like a single exchange, but in the moment that brief strike was shared, at least fifteen exchanges of offense and defense had occurred in the minds of Patrick and the Sword Saint.
Honestly, it was impressive.
“Would he be around the level of the Supreme Elders of the Nine Great Sects?”
In his past life, Jincheon, the Radiant Dragon Hero, had beaten down the Sect Leaders and Elders of the Nine Great Sects.
Among his hundred martial challenges, there were quite a few Sect Leaders.
And once he knocked those people down, there were always those bearded monsters who would step out unofficially.
[Supreme Elder, he hit me. Please punish him.]
The true masters of the Orthodox factions, who would come out pretending to be reluctant after hearing such whining.
No, they were humans who deserved to be called monsters.
They had mostly retired from the martial world and rarely took action, but as a result of continuously honing their martial arts, they were monsters who had entered a realm that wasn't quite human.
They were the ones who should be called the true ultimate masters of the Orthodox Murim.
The Sword Saint’s skill seemed to be on the level of those Supreme Elders.
“At this rate, I kind of want to see the 12 Paladins of the Holy Kingdom or the Guardians of the Tower of Truth too.”
Those were the titles of the strongest warriors representing the military might of the Three Great Powers.
While the Sword Saint’s name was the most illustrious, they were also evaluated as quite the monsters.
If he fought and defeated them, would his name spread across the entire continent?
Along with the martial arts of the Twin Dragon Sect?
“Don't be ridiculous.”
Patrick let out a short laugh.
It was funny. What was the point of spreading the martial arts of the Twin Dragon Sect and raising its fame in a world that didn't even know what the Twin Dragon Sect was?
And what did it say about him that he was having these thoughts while knowing that full well?
“Master, don't people say that a person only changes once they die?”
Patrick raised his bottle toward the moon, took another swig, and said, “That’s total bullshit. I know because I’ve died, and I haven't changed. Not one bit.”
In the moonlight, his Master was laughing.
He was laughing with that unchanging smile.