Chapter 81 : Chapter 81

Chapter 81. Shall We Take Off Our Ranks and Fight? (2)

Radiant Dragon Great Master Jin Cheon.

True to his name, he was a madman.

He had to be a madman.

He was undoubtedly a madman officially recognized by the Orthodox, Unorthodox, and Demonic Factions, but….

He didn't solve all the world's problems with madness alone.

Patrick often said.

[Most of the world's problems can be solved by beating the crap out of them!]

He was serious about this.

But the word he used here was, by all means, ‘most’.

He never used the word ‘all’.

Even this Patrick knew that sometimes, power, madness, and violence couldn't solve a situation.

And at times like that, his friend, the Ugly Dragon Scholar Jaegal Hyeon, would usually lend his wisdom.

Following his friend's advice, most of the tangled and complicated problems were either solved or at least temporarily patched up.

Having watched that process by his side numerous times, Patrick could also do something similar, like a dog at a village school that recites a poem after hearing it for three years.

The ugly fellow said.

To divert the eyes of a person in power, create a third enemy for them.

It is even better if its true form is not clear.

So, I deliberately sent Professor Leyte to propose a deal as if someone was behind him.

In that process, returning the Ice Sword, Isis, was a tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiny bit regrettable, but it couldn't be helped.

‘I found out it was a difficult item to sell as stolen goods.’

When I took it to Red and asked if he could exchange it for money, he freaked out and thrashed about, saying he'd rather die.

That's right.

Isis was too famous an item.

Such a famous item was something that could be sold for a high price, but at the same time, it was a troublesome treasure that was difficult to dispose of secretly.

Having a treasure that was difficult to turn into cash would only deepen the source of the problem.

In the end, I boldly used it for the purpose of blinding Marquis Panola's eyes.

Marquis Panola would wonder why the person behind Professor Leyte meekly returned Isis, but he would never reach the conclusion that it was ‘because it's hard to exchange for cash.’

Even for a veteran politician, reading the mind of a madman isn't easy.

Patrick said with a grin.

“Anyway, you don't have to worry about it. Speaking of which, isn't it about time for the professor to come and report?”

“Huh?”

Why would a professor make a report?

To a student?

Doesn't that feel like the hierarchy has been subversively and destructively reversed?

Matthew had no choice but to draw a rational conclusion.

‘Has he lost his mind?’

Correct… but.

Unfortunately, sometimes crazy things did actually happen.

Just like now.

Knock, knock.

With the knock, a voice was heard from outside the side door.

“Schneider. Are you inside?”

“Yes. Please come in.”

The person who entered with the knock was Professor Leyte.

The strictest tiger professor in the Knight Faculty.

Whether in terms of skill, fame, or temper, he was on a different level from the other professors.

As he entered, Matthew froze stiff.

Patrick was currently under disciplinary confinement.

If he was seen visiting and being with him like this, a scolding might fall from Professor Leyte, given his personality.

No, it wasn't a ‘might’; it was a ‘must’.

But….

“You're here too, Matthew.”

“Ah…, good day, Professor.”

Professor Leyte merely greeted him normally.

From Matthew's perspective, he was so nervous that his words trembled.

Patrick said without caring.

“Did you handle the matter well?”

“I did as you said.”

“How was it? Did it go well?”

“Kekeke… What's the point of saying it in words?”

“Kekekekekek… It seems like it was quite satisfying.”

“Khahahahahaha. You should have seen the look on that bastard Marquis Panola's face.”

“Mwahahahahaha.”

“Phuhahahahahaha.”

Professor Leyte laughed with genuine satisfaction.

The look on Marquis Panola's face when he froze upon seeing his Aura Blade.

The way he got all tense with every word I said after that, wracking his brain, and then freezing up in fear at the mention of ‘that person’…

“Ahh, it felt like a ten-year-old blockage had been cleared.”

“Keeuuu… You shouldn't let things like that fester for 10 years. You should resolve it within a week at most.”

“Hmm, you're right.”

“Right? Then shall we have a toast?”

“Sounds good.”

Then Patrick went to a corner, took out some alcohol, and brought out three glasses, pouring one for Matthew as well.

“……”

Alcohol in the Knight Faculty dormitory?

In front of a professor, no less?

And during disciplinary confinement?

Matthew couldn't even tell where to begin with the problems.

Should he blame the student who had alcohol in his dorm?

Or should he curse the professor who was gladly accepting and drinking it?

No, more importantly, why was I here?

“Cheers!”

“Cheeeers!”

Watching the two of them, Matthew had a thought for the first time, a thought he never had even amidst all of Roist's bullying.

‘I want to go home.’

* * *

“Really?”

“Yes. I'm serious.”

“Let me ask you again? Really? For real? No lies, this is 120 percent your own will?”

“Yes, it is.”

Patrick looked at his friend Matthew standing before him and spoke with a reluctant expression.

“You're asking me to train you, is that right.”

“Yes. Please.”

“Hmm…. Well now.”

Patrick was conflicted.

Just when his confinement was over and he was about to start a normal Academy life, he received a request from his friend.

“Is it not possible?”

“It's not that it's not possible. It's possible, but….”

The things Patrick was good at were mainly destructive things like beating, breaking, and killing.

He possessed a specialty that, if the priests who served Kalaron, the god of destruction, saw it, they would marvel, saying, ‘Oh, to think there was such a devout believer.’

But if such a Patrick had one other unexpected specialty, it was…

“Teaching someone is my specialty.”

That's right.

It was unexpected, but this was the field where Patrick's true worth shone.

In his past life, how much research had he done to fundamentally overhaul the ridiculously difficult martial arts of the Twin Dragon Sect for the sake of his untalented junior and senior brothers?

The reason he went around to the Nine Sects One Gang and the Five Great Clans, begging (threatening) for bits and pieces of their martial arts, was all to somehow normalize the ridiculously difficult martial arts of the Twin Dragon Sect.

And the research results he obtained through that process ironically blossomed through the soldiers of the Schneider fiefdom, crossing the wall of the world.

Fostering 200 3-star individuals within 5 years.

This was an achievement Patrick had actually accomplished.

Honestly, it would be much more efficient to fire all the Academy professors, give all their salaries to Patrick, and entrust the students to him.

So he could teach.

He could teach really well.

Setting aside the symphony of pain and hell implied by the word ‘well’, he was confident in producing definite results.

“It'll be a little tough if you train with me. Is that still okay?”

A little?

A liiittle?

If the soldiers in the faraway eastern Schneider fiefdom had heard this at this moment, they would have coughed up blood and collapsed.

But the young master from a rich family, unaware of reality, said with sparkling eyes.

“Of course it'll be tough. That's what I want.”

“Oh, I like that.”

And so, one poor little lamb walked into hell of its own accord.

To teach someone, one must first know their current standing.

To find out Matthew's current level, Patrick had a simple sparring match with him.

“Haaaaat!”

Clack. Clack-clack! Clack.

Wooden swords clashed fiercely in the training ground.

Matthew, drenched in sweat, charged at Patrick, and Patrick silently received his attacks.

Sometimes attacking, sometimes receiving, he tested Matthew's abilities and aptitude in various ways for 30 minutes.

“Hah…. Hah…. H-… how was it?”

To Matthew, who was panting as he spoke, Patrick said with a grin.

“My friend?”

“Huh?”

“Can't you do something other than being a knight?”

The verification result.

Matthew didn't have even a sliver of talent.

Patrick had been confident.

He believed that even if someone wasn't a genius, as long as they had at least average talent, he could raise them to at least 3-star level through appropriate hell and reasonable nagging.

But.

‘Wow…. This is serious.’

Truly, not even a speck of talent for the sword could be found.

No, how could this be?

This was the Knight Faculty of the kingdom's Academy, where the competition rate was fierce.

To get into this place, didn't it mean you had to pass an exam and be recognized as talented?

But Matthew's condition was severe.

“How did you even get into the Academy?”

“…That is…”

Seeing the hesitant Matthew, Patrick said as if to say, ‘Of course.’

“Did you donate a building for the Knight Faculty or something?”

“No.”

“Then?”

“The library for the Administration Faculty and the archives for the Law Faculty…. And the cafe for the Diplomacy Faculty too…”

“Something to be proud of.”

Tsk…. This beautiful world where money can do anything.

Patrick let out a sigh.

Why was this guy, who had so much damn money, so desperate to learn how to swing a sword?

If Patrick had been born into Matthew's environment, he would never have even touched a sword.

Power?

If money could command ghosts, couldn't it command a living martial artist?

In the first place, why was the son of the kingdom's wealthiest family being bullied?

“…Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“With eyes that say, ‘Why is this bastard living like this?’”

“You have no talent, but you're ridiculously sharp-witted.”

“……”

Matthew's feelings were hurt, but Patrick didn't even care.

He was currently deep in thought.

Was the time and effort required to teach this talentless guy to act like a knight a fair price to pay for establishing a connection with the Elbador Merchant Guild and making the family's business prosper?

‘Ugh, it's probably beneficial to do it, but….’

Money sure is great.

It can command ghosts, command martial artists, and command madmen.

Patrick made up his mind.

“Alright. I'll take responsibility and make sure you can be called a knight.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. For real, for real. I'm the guy who raised hundreds of people who couldn't even swing a sword properly to 3-star.”

“Hahaha.”

Matthew laughed, thinking it was a joke.

But he didn't know.

Patrick could really do it.

Albeit, how arduous the process would be was another matter.

“But I have a favor to ask.”

“Huh?”

“Introduce me to your father later. I have something to discuss with him about business.”

“……”

“No?”

“No, no. It's not that I can't, but….”

Matthew was flustered.

He was sharp enough to know.

The reason Patrick was suddenly being friendly to him was because of his family.

But this….

‘Isn't this too blatant? Is this how nobles usually act?’

It wasn't Matthew's first time dealing with nobles who were after his family's money.

But the way nobles always approached him was with a condescending attitude, arrogant and coercive.

The case of Roist, who used direct physical coercion, was a prime example, and even if not, most of them would apply subtle pressure, as if to say, ‘You, a commoner, must follow me, a noble.’

That was the usual way.

But Patrick was….

“Keeu, it's a real deal, okay? You promised. You can't go back on your word later.”

“……”

He had never met someone so blatant.

S-shouldn't nobles usually cherish honor more than their lives and never stoop to lose face in front of a commoner?

But Patrick showed no sign of that at all.

Patrick, who had lived as the grand disciple of a dirt-poor sect in his past life, knew.

Face or honor doesn't put food on the table.

To make a living, you need money.

First and foremost, you had to have money.

Face or honor that got in the way of making money was irrelevant.

This was a legitimate deal.

Patrick would teach Matthew the sword, and Matthew would introduce Patrick to his father—a mutually beneficial transaction.

“Hehehe. Then let's start right away today.”

“From today?”

“Ahem, no one can stop the flow of time. How precious is every single minute, every single second, right now.”

“Uh…. Yeah. You're right.”

“Good. Then let's start right away. Hehehehe….”

Looking at Patrick's smile, Matthew tried to logically grasp the ominous reality.

‘This is, by all means, a fair deal. Fair…. It should be fair… right?’

Would it be?

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