Chapter 43: I’ll Go This Far for You (1)
Chapter 43: I’ll Go This Far for You (1)
About a month after the Orcs began their training…
[Wuaaaaa!]
[I said that’s not it, you muscle-bound pig!]
[Uraaaaa!]
[Posture! Posture! Watch your damn posture!]
[Oooooo!]
[You sons of bitches!]
Patrick was in despair.
The sword techniques of the Hebe Peng family certainly prioritized physical build and skeletal potential over internal energy. However, it was still a martial art. It required disciplined movements accompanied by precise postures and delicate control of internal force.
That was what made it a martial art, and the process of achieving that was called training, wasn't it?
Yet, no matter how much he taught these damn Orcs, the moment he took his eyes off them, they would start charging blindly while shouting "Wuaaaaa!" They completely discarded the stances Patrick had drilled into them.
Ultimately, Patrick gave up.
It’s impossible. Teaching these bastards the Five Tigers Single Gate Sword is harder than teaching a Goblin the Rain of Ten Thousand Flowers.
Patrick was a man who rarely knew the meaning of surrender, but this was simply beyond help.
If someone’s spirit was rotten, you could beat them into shape. If someone lacked talent, you could beat them until they improved. Patrick’s conviction was that violence was the ultimate solution.
But there was no cure for being a complete blockhead. What good did it do to bash a moron’s head? It only made them stupider.
In the end, Patrick swallowed his pride and lowered his expectations.
High-level techniques like the Five Tigers Single Gate Sword or the Primordial Thunderbolt Blade, which he had initially aimed for, were out of the question. He searched for the simplest, easiest martial art possible and refined it specifically for Orcs.
Simpler.
Easier.
More convenient.
The result of his relentless refining and streamlining was…
*
The Three Tigers Sword Technique.
In this world, he gave it the name "Orc Blade."
It was a technique Patrick had created by taking the easiest movements for internal energy circulation from the Five Tigers Single Gate Sword—the style Peng Mu-jong had favored most in his past life—and blending them with the principles of the Three Talents Sword Method, a basic style known by every Tom, Dick, and Harry in the martial world.
For a swordsman like Patrick to simplify a high-level martial art like the Five Tigers Single Gate Sword was a long and arduous task. However…
[I’m going this far for you guys. You’d better buy me a hell of a drink when I get to the afterlife.]
He gritted his teeth and saw it through.
It couldn't just be easy. He had to somehow melt at least a fraction of the Hebe Peng family’s martial essence into it so the Orcs could actually use it.
The resulting Orc Blade was a martial art that even simple-minded, blockheaded Orcs could learn. Of course…
“Anyone who messes up the stance is dead! Go ahead, try that ‘Wuaaaa’ shit again. I dare you, you bastards!”
Even then, it was by no means easy for them.
*
Despite a few individuals suffering, the Schneider Fief was extremely peaceful.
Thanks to the Orcs and the soldiers—who were now quite proficient with their blades—wiping out the surrounding monsters, the territory was now so secure that they had to consider expansion. After all, the original purpose of the fiefs established in the Great Forest, including the Schneider Fief, was to pioneer the woods and keep the monsters in check.
Then, one day.
“Young Master. The Lord is calling for you.”
April came to find Patrick while he was having a morning drink.
“Father? What for?”
“I’m not sure. He simply ordered me to bring you to him.”
“Fine. I’ll find out when I get there.”
As he walked, Patrick wondered if he had caused any trouble lately.
Beating up the Orcs? Beating up the soldiers? Beating up Brian? Beating up monsters… wait, that last one is a good thing.
Perhaps the problem was that his entire life revolved around beating someone up? Not that he would ever realize that himself.
When he arrived at his father’s office, his mother, Ava, was there as well.
Unlike Baron Schneider, who had a few streaks of white in his hair, Ava looked younger and more beautiful than ever. To an outsider, they might look more like father and daughter than husband and wife.
“You called, Father?”
“Yes. Come, sit.”
As Patrick sat down, Ava turned to April, who was standing behind him, and spoke in an incredibly sweet voice.
“You sit too, April.”
“I’m fine, My Lady.”
“Do you dislike sitting next to me?”
Seeing Ava’s disappointed expression, April hesitated for a moment before relenting.
“No, Ma’am. I’ll sit.”
She sat down beside Ava, who immediately began doting on her as if she were her own daughter.
“Is there anything uncomfortable? Is Patrick treating you well? If you need anything, tell me right away.”
The Baron sighed at the sight. “I’m sure they’re doing fine on their own.”
“What was that?”
“No, nothing. Ahem. April, could you bring some tea?”
“Yes, My Lord.”
As April started to rise, Ava glared at him.
“Why are you making the girl get up when she just sat down? Do you not have hands? Do you not have feet?”
“Uh… well…”
“Is our April just someone who pours tea for you?”
“……”
Technically, that was a maid’s job, but looking at his wife’s sharp eyes, the Baron couldn't bring himself to say it.
“Ahem. No, you’re right. My mistake.”
Baron Schneider eventually sighed and apologized, while Patrick looked at his father with pitying eyes.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’m resolving to get married as late as possible.”
“……”
It was sorrowful. Just plain sorrowful.
Baron Schneider took a sip of the tea he had brewed himself and turned to Patrick.
“How is the level of the soldiers lately?”
“Most are at the 3-Star level or higher. Sanson, the guard captain, might reach 5-Star soon.”
“Hahaha… that’s incredible. At this rate, shouldn't we just confer knighthood upon them?”
“They’re not ready yet.”
“You’re too strict with your standards for a knight. Will you only be satisfied when they all reach 7-Star and can manifest an Aura Blade?”
“Hmm, I suppose I’d acknowledge them then.”
The Baron shook his head at his son’s words.
He had left the training of the soldiers entirely to his son. However, whenever he went to observe and saw the hellish landscape of their drills, he wondered if he should intervene.
But by allowing it, his son had produced undeniable results. Usually, reaching the 2-Star level was enough to be called a knight, but a minimum of 3-Star? Even Sanson was at 4-Star.
This was no longer a force of 200 soldiers. In terms of skill alone, it was a knight order of 200.
This was all thanks to the son standing before him. As the Lord, it would be shameless to interfere now.
“Fine. I’ll leave it to you. I’m sure you have a plan.”
“Of course.”
“I assume it’s not because you’re stingy about giving them a raise once they become knights.”
“…Of course not.”
“Hey.”
“Anyway, why did you call me?”
Patrick quickly changed the subject. Baron Schneider let out a deep sigh and pulled a letter from his coat, handing it over.
“Read this.”
Patrick took the letter and began to read aloud.
“‘To my beloved wife Ava, your beauty grows more radiant by the day, enough to make even the Goddess of Beauty jealous…’”
“Wait, wait! Not that one!”
The Baron panicked and snatched the letter back. Patrick looked at his red-faced father and the blushing Ava, who was whispering, “Oh, you,” and remarked:
“You two are certainly loooooving.”
“Ahem, cough…”
“Am I getting a sibling? A brother? A sister?”
“Enough. Read this one.”
The Baron pulled out another letter and handed it over. As Patrick read it, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.
[To Baron Schneider,
Recently, bandits have been rampant in the East, stealing the property and lives of merchants and harassing the innocent subjects of the Kingdom.
Several Lords have already attempted to subjugate them, but the bandits’ strength is formidable, and the expeditions ended in failure.
Therefore, as the Count responsible for the East, I intend to unite the forces of the Eastern nobles to fulfill our noble duty, eradicate these atrocious bandits, and uphold justice.
Upon receiving this letter, lead your fief’s forces and gather at the County.
—Count Jeyden Parmas.]
After Patrick finished reading, Baron Schneider asked, “What do you think?”
“About what?”
“About the subjugation force the Count mentioned.”
“It’s obvious.”
“Huh? Obvious?”
“Yeah. Bandits showed up, they tried to take them out, but they were stronger than expected and got their asses kicked. So now they want to increase their numbers and jump them. Isn't that it?”
Well… he wasn't wrong. He was right, but…
“Do you have to make it sound like a turf war between back-alley thugs?”
“Is there a difference? Whether it’s nobles acting all high and mighty or street thugs, they’re all just fighting to protect their own interests. The nobles just have a bigger stage. Pathetic bastards.”
“Son, you are also a noble.”
“Ah, I forgot.”
Seeing Patrick, who seemed to have genuinely forgotten, Baron Schneider covered his eyes with his hand. My hopeless child.
“Anyway, this kind of thing is predictable. They can’t do it alone, so they want to gang up on them. What is there to think about?”
“Are you saying it’s a bad thing?”
“It’s neither good nor bad. A situation is just a situation.”
“……”
Seeing that Baron Schneider still looked like he didn't understand, Patrick sighed.
“What matters isn't Count Parmas, but your choice, Father.”
“My choice?”
“Yes. What do you want to do?”
“What do you mean? The Count summoned us, so naturally, we must go.”
“Well, sure. But once you go, what do you want to achieve? Do you just want to fill a seat and do the bare minimum? Or…”
Patrick paused and looked his father straight in the eye.
“Do you want to announce the power of House Schneider to the world and seize wealth and fame?”
“Wealth and fame? What are you…”
“It’s not an absurd idea. It’s possible.”
“……”
“If that is what you desire, Father.”
Baron Schneider’s expression hardened. His son’s face had become uncharacteristically serious.
Even though his son had a foul personality, was monstrously strong, and was a violent human being whose humanity was often in question…
What on earth did I raise?
Baron Schneider felt a brief moment of parental self-reflection before pulling himself together. Regardless of his many flaws, his son occasionally showed wisdom and insight far beyond his years. Like right now.
“Are you saying you can achieve wealth and fame for me if I want it?”
“You are the Lord, and we are your subjects. Of course we would achieve it for you.”
He said it as if he were asking if he should pick up some fruit on his way back from the market. But if it was Patrick, he would truly do it. He had never failed to do something he said he would.
Baron Schneider thought in silence for a moment before speaking.
“Wealth and fame.”
“……”
“They are good things. Wealth brings prosperity to all, and the pursuit of fame is the very goal many nobles spend their lives chasing.”
“Then…”
“However.”
Baron Schneider cut his son off.
“I do not want my son and my soldiers to risk their lives and shed blood for the sake of such wealth and fame.”
“……”
“Compared to the blood they would shed and the tears their families would cry, wealth and fame are nothing but trivialities.”
“…You’re damnably alike.”
“What was that?”
“……”
Patrick didn't answer. His mind was drifting back to the distant past.
[Master, our Twin Dragon Sect was at the forefront and crushed the Blood Slaughter Sect. Why should we yield the credit to those bastards from the Nine Great Sects who just watched from the back?]
[To fight them for credit, you would have to fight those very sects this time.]
[Then we fight. I’ll tear those shameless bastards apart.]
[I…]
His Master had continued with his usual gentle smile.
[I do not wish to put you all in danger for the sake of mere credit.]
[Master…]
[If the blood of my disciples is required to gain higher prestige, I would rather remain in the lowliest position in the world.]
It had been frustrating. He felt it was unfair and was even angry. There was a limit to being a good person; no one would appreciate it anyway, so why act like that? It was too much.
But…
It was because Master was that kind of person that a bastard like me could become a decent human being.
If it hadn't been for his Master, Jincheon would have been called the Mad Dragon Blood Demon instead of the Radiant Dragon Hero. He would have become a leader of the Unorthodox Faction, bringing a bloodbath to the martial world and calamity to the world.
His Master had taught him and shown him what was truly precious and what was more important.
Though he had passed through death and gained a new life in a new world, his Master’s teachings were still engraved deep within Patrick’s soul.