The clouds covered the moon, and the night was deep. A group of eight, everyone carried a torch except for Lann.
When the Lady of the Lake’s Sword slit open Pingbala Lang’s neck at a speed undetectable even to normal people, the blood he sprayed out momentarily doused the torch, causing the flame to dim.
The blood that splattered onto the fire emitted a foul smell due to the high temperature, and the sound of the body collapsing softly on the ground was drowned out by the flow of Longquan River.
The remaining six, who initially bore fierce expressions, now had their confident faces twisted and frozen.
It looked both absurd and ridiculous.
When Lann interacted with Nojima Iizuka, his polite demeanor seemed to have given these people a misconception.
It led them to believe that this foreign warrior was someone who followed rules, and combined with Lann’s youthful and handsome appearance, he seemed like a typical young hothead.
Pingbala Lang’s group even initially planned not to draw their swords, wanting Lann to think this was just a physical scuffle, not a matter of life and death, thereby lowering his guard.
After all, even robbers rarely murdered, let alone ’colleagues’ having a spat?
They intended to overpower him, and then, in Lann’s incredulous, despairing, and hateful eyes, draw their swords and thrust them into the gaps of his armor.
But unexpectedly, this young man in front of them had a decisiveness to kill greater than this band of rōnin!
One of the rōnin was the first to recover from panic, screeching as he drew his sword and lunged at Lann.
Those who could pass Izusuke’s test certainly had some skills, and his screech was sharp and furious, as if he wished to transform into a rampaging bull to crush his enemy.
But when he attacked, he used the most discreet and fastest thrust.
This contrast during an attack might have been the technique he relied on to survive.
However, to Lann, this technique seemed far too weak.
As he cut down one person, the Lady of the Lake’s Sword, which had a small segment of its runes light up, sliced through the air.
The bright runes on the blade left a persistent trail of light in the air.
Amidst the flashing sparks of clashing blades, the divine weapon from the goddess effortlessly cut across the opponent’s blade.
It didn’t feel like cutting through steel but like slicing butter.
During its upward motion, the blade severed the opponent’s wrist, entered below the ribs along the body line, and exited at the right shoulder’s collarbone.
Lann accomplished all this single-handedly.
On his other side, the arm guard of his high-tier Bear School Armor blocked a rōnin’s full-force slash.
Lann’s arm took it as though catching a falling leaf, without any hint of reflexive tremors.
The arm guard deflected the blade, and with his advantageous arm span, Lann’s hand backhanded the opponent’s chin in the process of deflecting the blade.
The rōnin’s jawbone connection was directly shattered, causing his jaw and tongue to dangle limply downward.
The intense pain made him whimper as he curled up on the ground, his writhing body stirring up a layer of dirt and grass roots.
Meanwhile, the remaining five were still fumbling and scrambling, their eyes frightened as they tried to draw their blades from their waists.
Drawing a sword wasn’t easy, especially when one’s heart was in turmoil.
"So I say, it’s truly puzzling..."
Lann casually swung his sword, which had again lit up impressively, while strolling towards them.
The magic runes left residual light trails even as he walked.
"How did you dare to strike at a fully armored, large-sized warrior?"
Their chins trembling, the men retreated, finally managing to draw their swords amid the chaos.
And when they looked up, Lann’s faintly glowing cat-eyes were already looming over them.
The sound of bodies falling into Longquan River wasn’t prominent, as the swift and voluminous river produced loud flowing sounds.
Lann calmly watched the seven bodies slowly carried into the center river section by the current.
He’d just searched the bodies, not hoping to find any riches but hoping to find some swordsmanship manuals or something.
Despite the dire skill level of these rōnin, perhaps it was due to their own incompetence?
The performance of the Iwami in battle, and the thought patterns of East Asian cultural spheres, indeed filled him with astonishment and curiosity, eager for more understanding and even learning.
After all, it was East Japan swordsmanship, but wasn’t it because he had no other choice! If he had a proper Ming Country martial arts set at hand, he certainly wouldn’t be conflicted.
But very regrettably, reality had taught Lann not to believe too much in martial arts fiction plotlines.
Carrying secret scrolls from school on oneself always had some degree of exaggeration.
Clapping his hands and rinsing the blood off his gloves with river water, Lann was just about to stand up. But he suddenly noticed a colorful-scaled carp below the diffusing blood in the river, opening and closing its big mouth ceaselessly as if sucking in the nutrient-rich blood.
Yes, the unit for carp is "head."
This carp was similar to a chicken he’d seen at a banquet not long ago; although in appearance it was a couple of inches in size resembling a small goldfish, its length floating in the water was already nearing one and a half meters.
Lann wasn’t overly surprised, after all, he’d already eaten a chicken sized by the "head."
He slowly raised the Lady of the Lake’s Sword, its glowing magic runes serving as a fish-gathering light, causing the carp to edge slightly towards the riverbank.
Mentos seemed quite interested in catching this big fish, voluntarily correcting the water surface refraction for Lann.
The Lady of the Lake’s Sword entered the water silently, but at the moment Lann pierced it, he felt something was amiss.
Lann pulled the speared carp towards the riverbank, yet the weight which felt over a hundred pounds earlier grew lighter upon dragging, until the entire large koi disintegrated into the air in front of Lann.
Only a single scale remained on the ground.
Lann looked at the now empty blade, letting out a gasp of surprise. The otherworld always managed to show him various fascinating marvels.
The Demon Hunter bent down to pick up the scale, this remnant of the great carp seemed to have encapsulated all its life essence.
Crystal-clear, gorgeous in color, with a texture akin to a piece of jade kept alongside someone for decades.
This thing, even sold as a jewel, surely wouldn’t be cheap.
In Temeria, it would be worth at least four to five hundred Oren. If Margaret used her fame to promote it, the premium could probably double.
What’s a jewel if it doesn’t have a hefty markup to call it a luxury?
At present, Lann thought of Margaret’s Magic Pocket and future lab plans, filled with financial anxiety.
He had come to the Hirate family here to find work mainly to avoid being crushed by the scourge of war, not to earn much money.
But now looking at this beautiful scale, one on its own is worth a large Demon Hunter commission! And without the cost of Magic Potion or bombs, it’s pure profit!
Lann cheerfully placed the scale into the Alchemy Pouch at his lower back.
But just as he was about to sheathe his sword, his relaxed gaze suddenly sharpened, looking towards the rugged mountain wall behind him.
On a thick pine tree midway up the cliff, a figure clad in purple-black striped clothing was leaping down agilely.
The nimbleness of that movement far exceeded the bounds of ordinary human capability!