Chapter 23
Force (4)
“Did you have a good trip?”
Ian, lying on the roof of the treasurer’s house and gazing at the stars, asked quietly.
— You were whining outside, and now you look completely relaxed.
“I was bored waiting, so I just looked at the stars for a bit.”
Ian, who had been lying comfortably, sat up.
“What did the maid and the treasurer talk about?”
He had already recognized at a glance who the woman getting off the carriage and entering the house was—it was the maid who cleaned his bedroom.
Blanzor reported almost word for word what the treasurer and the maid had discussed inside.
After listening to everything, Ian dusted off his pants and stood.
“Unbelievable. Trying to kill me with fleas?”
— They probably don’t want you dead. More like before—sick and bedridden, unable to interfere with estate affairs.
“That’s the same thing.”
Ian fixed his gaze on the maid as she was helped into a carriage by Hicks.
When the carriage left the mansion, Ian cracked his neck left and right.
“What about the guards inside?”
— Nine in total. Three are stationed in the hallway by the bedroom. Since the bedroom has no windows, you’ll have to go straight through the front.
Because he could only warp into places visible to him, Ian had no choice.
— Think you can handle it?
“Don’t worry. With warp, that’s no problem.”
Covering his face with a hood, Ian leapt down from the roof.
As soon as he spotted a window leading to the third-floor corridor, he instantly warped.
His falling body vanished in the blink of an eye and reappeared beyond the glass inside the third-floor corridor.
One at a time!
Even without inner strength, the Qi Palm alone had formidable power.
The guard at the end of the corridor turned at the faint rustle behind him—only to collapse when Ian struck his throat.
“Huh?”
Another guard nearby instinctively reached for his sword, but Ian appeared behind him, his face calm, and struck both temples with precision.
The man crumpled without resistance. Ian immediately warped again.
A sword slashed through the spot he had just been, the strike sharp as lightning. A fraction later, and Ian would have been cut to pieces.
The middle-aged guard who had missed looked startled, only for Ian to reappear like a phantom and smash his chin with an upward strike.
But unlike the others, this one deflected Ian’s hand and unleashed a flurry of sword strikes.
The blade radiated an icy aura that made Ian break out in a cold sweat.
He’s strong.
Clearly, this was a swordsman skilled enough to be entrusted with the treasurer’s protection. Underestimating him for not using Force would have been a fatal mistake.
Ian warped repeatedly to attack, but the veteran avoided or countered every strike, forcing Ian into a tough spot.
— Big talk, and look at you now.
Blanzor mocked from the sidelines.
Ian’s robe was cut open by the man’s blade. Gritting his teeth, he warped to the ceiling.
He dropped down hard, clenching his jaw.
Damn it, just take one hit already!
His wish came true—when the guard’s vision was momentarily obscured by Ian’s fluttering robe, Ian drove his knee into the man’s face.
Not missing the chance, Ian followed with a hammer-like strike to the jaw.
After two crushing blows to the head, the guard finally collapsed.
— Hurry, or the ones downstairs will swarm you.
“I know.”
Ian pushed on the bedroom door.
But it wouldn’t budge—it was locked from inside. The treasurer must have heard the fighting and bolted it.
There’s a gap.
He noticed a small opening at the bottom of the door. Pressing his face to the floor, Ian peered through the slit, smirked—then warped inside.
Who the hell—?
The treasurer, sword in hand and glaring at the door, swallowed nervously. It was only luck he hadn’t been asleep—he might not have woken otherwise.
“Treasure-keeper.”
Hearing his lord’s voice behind him, the treasurer spun around in shock—only to be struck in the throat by Ian’s fist, choking and gagging.
“My… lord…”
“Yeah, it’s me, you bastard.”
As the treasurer groaned in pain, Ian coldly looked toward the door.
“Sir! Sir Treasurer!”
The guards were pounding on the door, having rushed up from below.
“You’re dead.”
With a swift kick to the chin, Ian knocked the treasurer unconscious, then dragged him toward the door.
The door burst open, guards flooding in.
But they found only an empty room—the treasurer was nowhere to be seen.
Merciful Lord (1)
Dragging the treasurer into a nearby forest, Ian tossed the unconscious man into a stream.
“Damn, he’s heavy. Makes it harder.”
The treasurer spluttered awake, gasping as he broke the water’s surface.
“Puhah! Haa… haa…”
He blinked in disbelief at the sight of his lord standing in the moonlight, shaking his head wildly.
“This is impossible. I must be seeing things.”
The lord was weak, unable to fight. This couldn’t be him.
“Who are you?!”
“Who else, you fool? Your lord.”
Ian pulled a short club from his belt and waded slowly into the stream.
“How many times have I told you to lower the taxes?”
The word “taxes” made reality finally sink in for the treasurer—this really was his lord.
“My lord! What are you doing?!”
“Shut up.”
Thwack! Blood spurted from the side of his head.
Reeling, the treasurer snatched a stone from the water and bellowed:
“I’ll kill you!”
He charged like a wild beast, but Ian vanished from his sight.
“Eh?”
Before he could react, Ian’s club smashed into his stomach from behind.
The treasurer collapsed to his knees, retching.
“Ugh!”
Watching him vomit into the stream, Ian said coldly:
“Do I look like a joke to you? Why don’t you listen?”
“You deceived… everyone…”
The treasurer shuddered—his lord was alive, strong, even skilled in combat.
“Look up.”
Ian lifted the man’s chin with his club, staring into his eyes.
“You’re a traitor.”
“What nonsense—”
“You told the maid to spread diseased fleas in my bed.”
The treasurer’s face stiffened.
“T-that…”
“You should just die here.”
Ian kicked him hard in the face, then rained down blows on his writhing body.
“Even the air you breathe in my domain is wasted.”
Screaming, the treasurer crawled desperately out of the water.
“You think it’ll hurt less out there?”
Ian followed, battering his thigh until blood seeped from torn flesh.
“Stop! Please, my lord!”
Never before beaten like this, the treasurer couldn’t withstand the agony.
“Shut it.”
Ian struck his back mercilessly, leaving him trembling and nearly paralyzed.
“I’ll smash your skull.”
Terrified, the treasurer clutched Ian’s leg, pleading:
“My lord, spare me! I’ll be loyal! The fleas—madness overtook me for a moment!”
“No.”
Raising his club again, Ian forced the treasurer to scream:
“I’ll be your dog!”
“Pathetic. You think I’m naïve? You’ll stab me in the back.”
“No! I swear to God!”
“Lies. Just die.”
The bloodied club smashed the ground beside the treasurer’s head, missing by inches.
“Oh, a miss. Stay still, and it’ll be quick.”
The treasurer’s sanity nearly snapped at the sight of his murderous lord.
With his last strength, he collapsed to his knees, forehead hitting the ground with a loud thud.
“I’m wicked. I’ve stolen much from you. If you kill me now, it’s all gone. Let me return it—give me one chance!”
“You’re bargaining with what’s mine?”
“It’s not bargaining—it’s mercy I beg for! Please, show mercy, my lord!”
Ian stared down at him coldly, then sat on a nearby rock.
“Treasurer.”
“Yes, my lord!”
“I don’t trust you. But I’ll give you one last chance. Because I am merciful.”
“Thank you, my lord!”
Overjoyed to be spared, the treasurer gazed at Ian.
“The taxes?”
“I’ll lower them immediately.”
“And make sure everyone knows it’s thanks to me. Understood?”
“Yes!”
“And those forced into labor—send them home.”
Ian rose and washed his hands and face in the stream.
“I saw your house today. Very nice. Built with my money, wasn’t it?”
“My deepest apologies, my lord.”
“Empty it.”
“Pardon?”
“Empty it, bastard. It’s mine.”
The treasurer bit his lip and lowered his head.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Take that road—it’ll lead you back to the village. Go.”
“Do you have a horse? You must be tired.”
He couldn’t imagine his lord had warped all the way here. He assumed a horse was hidden nearby.
Ian snorted.
“Horse? Get lost.”
“…Yes, my lord.”
As the treasurer hobbled away, Blanzor asked:
— Why spare him? Should’ve finished it cleanly.
“At first I planned to kill him. But then I thought—killing isn’t always the answer. Someone has to manage the estate, and I’m not ready for that yet.”
— Hmph. When I said so before, you ignored me. Now you change your mind?
“Not the same. You said don’t touch him at all. I beat him half to death, now he’ll listen for a while.”
— Surely you don’t believe he’s truly loyal now?
“Of course not. But he’s scared, so for now, he’ll obey.”
As he spoke, Ian brushed his hand over the leaves of a nearby tree.
The rough bark moved him deeply.
Back on Earth, fighting as a militiaman against outsiders, he’d rarely touched a living tree.
The forests had been destroyed, the mountains burned.
Closing his eyes, he smiled faintly, savoring the life around him.
“Guess I’ll be dozing off in front of Linda again—I barely slept tonight.”
