Chapter 42
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 42
Chapter Title: Heavenly Demon Sword Technique
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Seeing her flare up her aura like that, it looks like I've properly gotten under her skin.
The Cascadia family possesses unique cultivation methods and swordsmanship passed down from previous generations.
In fact, I myself had tried to learn them from a young age, only to give up early after realizing I had no talent for it.
Scang!! Thweeeek!!!
A single sharply honed blade sliced through the air alongside her aura, fiercely threatening me.
But I evaded her attacks by simply shifting my feet one step at a time, without straying far from my spot.
Unlike her earlier rage-fueled strikes, Melissa's expression hardened after just a few exchanges.
Left side's open.
I lightly kicked her incoming left leg as she swung her sword, disrupting her flow.
"Ugh?!"
She must have pressed her assault relentlessly, leaving no room for me to slip in.
Even ordinary people wouldn't be able to distinguish the sword strikes flying back and forth dozens of times per second.
But as I kept dodging what needed dodging and countering to break her rhythm, she grew impatient.
And that impatience soon led to a mistake.
"Ah?!"
A massive swing that cleaved empty air.
A mistake no seasoned Sword Expert would ever make, but the relentless counters, disrupted flow, and mounting frustration had conspired to create this disaster.
In a real fight, it would've been a death sentence with no complaints possible, and she hurriedly tried to recover her sword.
But I was already one step ahead, hooking my thumb over my index finger into a circle.
"I get the gist of your level."
Thwack!!!
I launched a tactical nuclear knuckle flick right at her forehead.
"Kyaaack?!"
She screamed, dropped her sword, and rolled across the floor clutching her head.
"This is getting so boring I wanna quit."
It wasn't just a simple flick—it was a vibrational strike using aura, so the pain would be beyond imagination.
Of course, since it was meant purely to hurt, it had virtually no lethal power.
"Have you lost your mind?! Who were you trying to kill?!"
She yelled from the floor, still gripping her head.
"I'm seriously pissed now?! Huh?! What the hell did you eat to turn into such a monster?!"
"Whatever. There is one sword art that suits you. I was just gonna teach you the basics, but looks like I'll have to overhaul your cultivation method too."
Her eyes widened at my words.
She couldn't possibly misunderstand.
I was telling her to abandon the family's cultivation method.
Discarding centuries of inherited cultivation and swordsmanship would be hard for her to accept.
"That's..."
"Just learn it. But don't forget—you're the family head now, Melissa. What you wield becomes the family's swordsmanship, and if you die, the lineage ends all the same."
"That's because you..."
"Let me be blunt. I don't use the family's swordsmanship."
In the end, if you're too weak and get yourself killed, it means nothing.
After pondering my words for a long while, she stared straight at me.
"If I learn that, will I get stronger?"
Of course, I use a different sword art myself.
In fact, the one I'd planned to teach her was the very swordsmanship I'd abandoned after deeming it unfit for reaching the pinnacle.
That didn't matter, though.
It hadn't suited me, but for her—with her clean sword path—it would fit perfectly.
With that sword art alone, I'd once reached Mind Master, the upper tier of Sword Master, and even crossed the wall to Grand Master beyond that.
But ultimately, I'd discarded it for the sake of true pinnacle mastery.
"Hoo... Fine. You won't tell me the details unless I pry it out of you, huh? What's it called?"
After a brief silence, I crooked my finger.
Black spectral mana erupted, seizing her dropped sword and pulling it straight to my hand.
At the same time, dark energy surged from my entire body.
I slowly closed my eyes, then opened them once the dark energy fully permeated the blade.
"Heavenly Demon Sword Technique."
A tyrannical aura exploded outward, brutally dominating everything around me.
"Mm... Yeah, it's a bit cringy, but simply put—swordsmanship for the king of hell."
As my words hung in the air and the immense aura crushed the surroundings, she reflexively clenched her fists.
Though it was the same aura release, its nature was utterly unlike hers.
Pang!!!!
Like a savage tyrant trampling and conquering all in its path, the swordsmanship unfolded.
The Heavenly Demon Sword Technique wasn't something I'd created based on my past life's memories.
Among the countless foes I'd faced in the Sword Hall, there had been humanoid enemies who seemed versed in martial arts.
The swordsmanship of that pitch-black figure from head to toe lingered deeply in my mind even now.
Pang!! Bang!!!
Each swing crushed the surroundings.
A sword art that forced submission and struck with domineering blows.
Yet it was also fluid and shadowy.
Beneath its massive framework branched a staggering 382 variations.
Melissa watched my demonstration in a daze.
I didn't expect her to grasp it all at a glance.
Like any element, it would require practice and anguish.
Since it wasn't my own art, the stamina drain was worse than usual, but I compensated with aura.
Her strength lay in her clean sword path—remarkably unshakable.
Yet she tolerated no intrusion into that path.
If that pitch-black martial artist I'd fought in the Sword Hall had seen Melissa...
He might have chosen her as the successor he'd most desired.
Just my thought, of course.
Thus, Melissa quietly committed every motion to memory as I demonstrated the Heavenly Demon Divine Art's sword forms, missing nothing.
By the time I finished, a fair bit of time had passed.
"It's an incredibly oppressive sword art."
Her assessment was short, concise, and spot-on.
"Whether it's the family swordsmanship or this one, they're both fundamentally aura circulation-based."
Sword techniques hit their limits surprisingly quickly. No matter how perfect, pure swings boil down to vertical cuts, horizontal slashes, thrusts—the three fundamentals.
Like unconsciously breathing.
To the point where you have to consciously hold your breath to stop it.
In other words, instinct.
"Start by getting used to the revamped aura circulation."
Swordsmanship comes after.
I immediately sat her down and began forcibly remodeling her aura circulation with a massive infusion of aura.
She writhed in agony throughout, but I altered it without a single mistake or deviation.
Blocking what needed blocking, opening what needed opening, connecting paths that hadn't been linked before.
Each time, pain flushed her face beet red, but I didn't stop.
"Hngh?! I... I'm gonna die..."
Like someone who not only has to consciously breathe but must do so intentionally.
"How long do I have to keep this up? Hah... Hah..."
She asked through gritted teeth, forcibly controlling the aura trying to backflow on its own.
"About three days until your body adapts. Out of the kindness of my heart, I'll leave you alone for those three days—just get used to it."
Truth be told, she suited the Heavenly Demon Divine Art far more than the family swordsmanship.
Not just because the art and method fit her, but because I'd shove every essence of insight right into her from the sidelines.
Of course, it wouldn't be smooth sailing. But that's her burden, not mine.
First day of training.
Melissa showed some grit, adapting to the aura circulation and endlessly practicing the swordsmanship.
All while steadily preparing for the mining business.
Second day.
Melissa's complexion wasn't great.
Probably feeling full-body muscle soreness for the first time in ages.
Third day, fourth day.
By the seventh day.
Melissa had lost her smile.
Dread flickered in her eyes as she looked at me when I approached with a wooden sword.
"Um... Can we take a break today?"
"Who said so? Come on."
"No, I mean... I'm the count and family head, so I'm busy..."
"Tired at your level? Where's that weak spot?"
Grind...
I heard her teeth grinding, but she said nothing more.
"Don't worry. I'll handle the mine inspection myself and write the report."
"No, that's not it..."
Yeah, I know.
That the training I'm putting her through is insane, far beyond normal limits.
In fact, I've pushed her shockingly hard at times.
But I had no regrets about my methods, nor any flaws in the process.
Despite her complaints, her aura was settling into its new cycle, and she was picking up the swordsmanship quickly.
I teased her more than necessary to stoke her fighting spirit, but it wasn't just for stress relief.
By the end of the second week.
Melissa ran away. Even shaking off Tibel's ghost hidden in her shadow.
"Where the hell did that girl go?"
I scanned the empty count's office with wild eyes.
"Hup?!"
An elf maid carrying a laundry basket gasped and backed away from me a couple steps.
"Where'd Melissa go?"
"Th-the family head... we're looking for her too..."
She was one of the elves Tibel had brought for slave trading who chose to stay at the mansion voluntarily.
This elf was one of the better cases.
Simply grateful for being saved from slavery, wanting to repay the favor.
"Look me in the eye."
As I approached, exuding demonic killer intent like a yaksha from hell, tears welled in her eyes.
"P-please spare me, Young Master."
"Who's dying? Just tell me where our esteemed family head went."
She averted her gaze at my words.
Now that I looked, it seemed others knew she'd bolted too.
But they had their own loyalties or promises keeping their mouths shut.
Fine, then. I had my own methods.
I dragged her straight to the kitchen.
And showed her the Vanilla Ice Cream Mk8 I'd refined over the past week or so.
Gulp...
Raw desire flashed in the elf maid's eyes.
Impossible not to.
Mk8 was basically a success, and the item I was prepping for business.
Among the servants who'd tasted it "just once," word had spread like wildfire as a novel, delicious dessert.
Even when I offered failed batches asking if anyone wanted them, hands shot up without fail, clamoring "me! me!"