Chapter 320: Not Ink, but Evil
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 320: Not Ink, but Evil
Ron Hairan was, indisputably, one of the two greatest 10-star knights in the world, a title he shared only with Talaris Endorma, the Master of the Secret Palace.
If such a man had truly resolved to strike, there was nothing Jin could do to stop him.
As Ron strode toward Jin, panic flared in Dante’s eyes. He instinctively threw himself in front of Jin, blocking the path.
“Move.”
“Grandfather, please, listen to me!”
“I have no wish to listen.”
Dante couldn’t help but recall a promise he had made to his grandfather a few years ago, after returning from the Arena of Cosmos.
—I am sorry, Grandfather. Not only did I fail to win, but I barely escaped death twice.
—You nearly lost your life twice in that lowly tournament? What on earth happened? Was your swordsmanship lacking, or was there some hidden master desperate for prize money?
—My swordsmanship was not lacking, but my spirit was. And while there were no masters blinded by greed, I did meet two boys who moved my heart.
—Ho-ho, for you to say such a thing, I find myself quite curious. You, who shows no interest even in the peerless beauties who frequent our home… Tell me, what are the names of these boys who so impressed my grandson?
—Grandfather, I am sorry, but I cannot reveal their names… And I must apologize again, for I wish to ask a daring favor of you.
—You rascal! You return only to disappoint your grandfather! But I shall forgive you. What is this favor?
—Please allow me to save them just once, no matter the circumstances.
At the time, Ron had agreed to Dante’s request.
In a fraction of a second, countless calculations flashed through Dante’s mind. Is it right to use this card now?
Runcandel and Hairan were clear rivals. That meant they classified each other as ‘enemies,’ and given sufficient justification, they could strike at any time.
Therefore, Ron taking Jin’s arm now was a move backed by plenty of justification. Whatever the reason, Jin had infiltrated the main castle of Hairan in disguise.
‘A time might come when Grandfather truly means to take Jin’s life. It might be better to save the promise for then, rather than using it now when he only plans to take an arm…!’
His heart hammered so wildly he feared his grandfather and his friend might hear it. He had to choose.
Should he save the card his grandfather gave him for a day that might never come, or use it right now to prevent his friend from being maimed?
Dante squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.
His internal struggle ended. He simply could not stand by and watch his friend’s arm be severed before his very eyes.
“Grandfather, do you remember the promise you made to me a few years ago—!”
But he was already too late.
Ron had already gently pushed Dante aside and raised his sword.
In his state of extreme panic and indecision, Dante hadn’t even realized he’d been moved.
Rashid, Ron’s beloved sword and the symbol of the Hairan Patriarch, was already glowing with aura.
At that sight, Dante felt the blood in his body run cold. A wave of dizziness struck him, and his vision went dark.
He threw himself forward reflexively, intending to use his own body to block the strike.
In contrast, Jin, the one actually facing Ron, remained perfectly calm. He had not lost his composure for a single moment since the Patriarch appeared.
Swish!
No!
Dante was about to scream, but a moment later, he saw his grandfather’s sword halt just an inch from Jin’s neck.
“Kho-ha-ha-ha!”
Suddenly, Ron clutched his stomach and burst into boisterous laughter.
“Fooled you completely, didn’t I? Hahaha! How was this old man’s acting? Eh? Seeing my grandson’s panicked face for the first time in a while… it’s just so adorable I could die! Ehehe.”
“G-Grandfather…? Are you saying this was all a joke?”
Ron nodded, unable to stop laughing for a good while, as if it were the funniest thing in the world.
“I was quite curious when you suddenly started acting restless and tried to hurry away in the middle of our conversation.”
Only then did Dante realize he had been tricked.
Thinking back, it had been strange from the start. The Ron Hairan that Dante knew—his one and only grandfather—was not a man who would so callously do something that would wound his grandson’s heart.
“I wondered who could have visited to make my grandson act like this! Was it the princess you saw at the last banquet? Or perhaps the daughter of the Henserck family, who has been visiting the Sword Emperor Castle every day with such devotion, finally made a breakthrough?”
At that, Jin’s eyes widened involuntarily.
‘Crazy. I wondered why Dante was so late. He was in the middle of a conversation with Lord Ron?’
In Runcandel, such a thing would be unimaginable—to show restlessness during a conversation with the Patriarch simply because a friend had arrived.
“Then… Grandfather. You are not going to harm my friend?”
“Why would I harm someone my grandson likes for no good reason? Of course, it is a bit disappointing that the person you were so eager to see wasn’t a lady. But this old man is very pleased just to have finally met this friend you so often spoke of…”
Thud!
Dante suddenly collapsed onto the floor.
At that sight, Ron’s face instantly turned deathly pale.
“Dante! My grandson! Are you… are you having an anemic spell!?”
Born with an extremely frail constitution, Dante frequently suffered from anemia or seizures when under extreme shock or overexertion. It was a symptom that had almost disappeared recently.
“I am sorry, Grandfather. I have shown you something unsightly…”
“Oh, no! It’s this old man’s fault. Someone! Call the medical team, quickly!”
At Ron’s thunderous shout, the medical staff rushed in instantly. As soon as they saw Dante, they skillfully administered a pill and placed him on a stretcher.
“Jin… let’s talk again… in a bit.”
The moment Jin nodded, Dante lost consciousness.
“Is my grandson’s condition severe? Eh? Is he in great pain?”
“It is merely anemia, Patriarch! Please do not worry!”
“I am worried! If anything happens to my grandson, I will have all your heads!”
“Do not worry, Patriarch! We will take measures to ensure the Young Patriarch’s condition improves immediately!”
As the medical team quickly carried Dante away, Ron let out a pained groan, his eyes following them until they were out of sight.
Only Jin and Ron remained in the drawing room.
“…My greetings are late, Lord Ron Hairan. I am Jin Runcandel, the thirteenth child and twelfth flagbearer of Runcandel.”
“I know your name. I didn’t know you had a hobby for disguises.”
Ron slowly turned to look at Jin. Unlike the fond gaze he gave Dante, his expression held not a shred of benevolence.
“Why were you so certain that I wouldn't strike you?”
At Ron’s question, Jin bowed his head slightly.
“I dared to believe you were not such a frivolous person.”
“My grandson would have been heartbroken, but it is true that I seriously considered taking one of your arms despite that.”
“If you had, it would have been only right for me to bear the consequences of trespassing into the Sword Emperor Castle.”
“You’re no fun to tease. You’re just like Cyron was in his youth.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn't a compliment. Your father is the same now, but in his youth, he was even more insufferable.”
As he spoke, Ron’s gaze was filled with greed.
The ceramic.
Even while speaking intimidatingly, he couldn't take his eyes off the ceramic Jin was holding.
“Because of you, my precious, precious grandson—the apple of my eye—almost came to harm. How do you intend to take responsibility for this?”
“With all due respect, I do not believe that is my responsibility.”
“Indeed, it wouldn't be your responsibility… if you possessed power greater than mine.”
Ron grinned and lightly gripped Jin’s shoulder.
The moment his palm touched him, Jin nearly screamed. A terrifying wave of aura radiated from Ron’s touch, instantly throwing Jin’s internal organs into a frenzy.
‘He’s trying to induce… a backflow, just like with mages.’
His skin crawled.
Inducing an aura backflow in a martial artist was far more difficult than inducing a mana backflow in a mage. It was widely believed to be impossible to cause a backflow simply by injecting a larger amount of aura into an opponent.
Yet Ron was doing it as if it were nothing.
“How about it? Are you starting to feel some responsibility now?”
Ron’s induction of the backflow grew more intense. Jin trembled violently but refused to scream. Even as the strength in his grip began to fail, he did not drop the ceramic.
“First of all… Dante… does not have… anemia.”
At those words, Ron’s eyes widened.
He couldn't believe that Jin had noticed Dante’s feigned illness in that brief, chaotic moment. It was something even he had been unsure of at first.
“I know that as well.”
However, he did not let his surprise show.
“He who touches ink is bound to be stained by it. My grandson has never responded to my pranks in such a way before. It seems he’s picked up some cunning from spending time with you.”
Ron removed his hand from Jin’s shoulder.
Jin wiped the blood flowing from his nose and mouth and took a moment to catch his breath.
“Dante used his head very well. By pretending to have an anemic spell, he ensured I would have a private audience with you, Lord Ron, and left the judgment regarding the 300 million gold to you.”
“My grandson wasn't such a devious lad, but you’ve gone and ruined him. Tsk!”
“Shouldn't you rather pay me for the 'ink'?”
“What?”
“The pure-hearted Dante showed the boldness to deceive you, Lord Ron. In the future, when he vies for the hegemony of Hairan, it seems he won't be so easily stabbed in the back by the schemers of Viment.”
At Jin’s brazen attitude, Ron was momentarily speechless.
“Furthermore, I have stimulated Dante more than any genius martial artist from Hairan or Viment ever could. You could say that my hard work is partly responsible for the achievements Dante has made.”
“And you want to be paid for that as well?”
“I do.”
“Khaha… You aren't ink, you're evil. Do you know what that means?”
“It means that even if you were to strike me down before I stain Dante further, I would have no grounds for complaint.”
“I truly cannot win against you with words. Fine. In my heart, I’d like to just take your head, but for my grandson’s sake, I shall spare you. I will let you live. That is the price for your influence on Dante.”
“That is not enough.”
“Indeed, that alone is not enough for a mere 12th Flagbearer of Runcandel to dare propose a deal with the Master of the Sword Emperor Castle. Leave that ceramic behind as well.”
Ron smiled and continued.
“And that Ancient Ten Thousand-Year Steel you were supposed to receive as a reward for your recent Black Knight assassination mission—hand that over to me as well. If you want to live, that is.”