The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld-Chapter 184

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]

Chapter 184: An Offer You Can't Refuse

I weathered Harold's fierce assault by redirecting its momentum, steadily deploying Scarlet Cloud Ghost Path, Flowing Cloud Thunder Fist, and Azure Sea Moon Shadow Swordsmanship.

I absorbed his chain of attacks, dodged strikes flying from blind spots like an acrobat, and bought myself fleeting moments to recover by countering with fist shocks before resetting my stance.

'On the verge of breaking, yet unbroken.'

Harold seemed unsure whether this was my strategy or merely unavoidable defense.

But the fact that he remained cautious even while dominating spoke volumes about his experience.

'A careful man.'

Of course, this was all part of my plan.

To an outsider, it would appear I'd tried to end things quickly with two early techniques, only to be forced into a defensive position by sheer inferiority in skill.

'That's half the truth.'

In a direct clash, Harold surpassed me in both strength and speed. The finesse of his techniques—honed through countless real battles—wasn't something I could easily overcome.

'Which is why I need strategy.'

Against a superior opponent, you fight with your mind.

As I focused on defense, I gradually adapted to Harold's patterns.

In other words, I began reading the flow of his attacks, his habitual choices, the intent flickering in his gaze.

'Harold is wary.'

He had no choice but to prepare for a trump card I might be hiding.

'Moon Dance.'

Harold had already witnessed this technique firsthand—even fallen for it once.

'A warrior's shame is being fooled twice by the same move.'

His vigilance against it was palpable.

'And that's the opening I need.'

At each critical moment, Harold hesitated just shy of committing fully, cautious of a potential Moon Dance reversal.

'That hesitation is your downfall, Harold.'

It allowed me to conserve just enough stamina to endure his onslaught.

And...

I had more than one card up my sleeve.

'Penetration.'

A Karzan-style technique that had pierced Nepherus's defenses and even shattered the protective magic around the Dark King's treasure.

BOOOOM!

I stomped hard, steadying my balance as I was pushed back.

"!"

Harold paused his assault, eyes narrowing at my stance—

"Red Wolf Crescent Moon!"

I feinted, invoking a Azure Sea Moon Shadow Swordsmanship technique with a generic slash.

SHIIING!

Harold's eyes widened as he countered with a surge of energy.

'Too light?!'

Smirking at his visible shock, I stomped again, kicking up dust—then blended the Whispering Snow in the Night's stealth with the Seven Stars of the Black Sea Technique's second power: Dark Star.

The illusion of exhaustion, the dust masking my stealth, and Harold's own fatigue from prolonged combat...

'You've completely lost track of me, Harold.'

For one critical moment, my combined stealth fooled him.

'Now!'

I flanked his blind spot and struck.

CRAAACK!

To his credit, Harold barely blocked—

THUD!

—but not before I drove a Flowing Cloud Thunder Fist strike into his ribs, channeling Penetration to rattle his organs.

"Guh—!"

The blow shattered his posture.

"...Hah. Hahaha."

Harold laughed hoarsely and dropped his sword.

"I yield."

Though he had much to say, his sportsmanship deserved equal respect.

"Good match, Harold."

There's no need to mock an honorable defeat.

***

"Harold. You'll need to train harder."

Grand Commander Heinrix's verdict was blunt.

"Grand Commander. I've disgraced myself."

"His Highness was remarkable. A victory of strategy, I suppose? Saving his best for last."

"Flattering. The mind games worked because Harold already knew my techniques."

"Like a cardsharp. Never thought I'd lose at psychology."

Harold rubbed his ribs, grumbling.

"You never used Moon Dance."

"Relying solely on techniques isn't my style."

"Restraint despite having surefire methods—that too is courage. I can only admire your talent, Your Highness."

"Praise from you is almost embarrassing."

"Now that you've seen all there is to see, perhaps it's time to descend? You've taken two weeks of the 2nd Commander's time—surely you're satisfied..."

Ignoring Harold's thinly veiled jealousy, I glanced at Barclava.

"Our youngest has more suffering ahead."

"......"

Whether stunned by my fight or wrestling with complex feelings, Barclava's expression was unreadable.

"You're improving too. Didn't you break through to the 4th tier?"

"...I did, but—"

"Consider it mental training."

I sheathed Voyager of the Night, its blade flawless as ever.

"...Sisterrrr."

Though it was an order, gratitude was due for Ulbhild's two weeks of guidance.

"Thank you. I'll train diligently for my match against Valkenhain—and win."

"You've worked hard, Allen."

She patted my arm.

"Mastering the Ink Soul Sacred Shadow Technique won't be easy. But you'll manage."

"Of course."

I turned to Heinrix.

"Did the spectacle meet expectations?"

"Who's to say?"

He shrugged.

"When choosing a division to join, pick ours."

"Empty-handed flattery won't do. Bring proper tribute next time."

"Haha, I'll raid the division's budget for that."

"Hmm, I'll hold you to it."

I also acknowledged the Special Operations Division members still reeling between shock at Harold's defeat and forced professionalism.

"You've all worked hard. Please continue guiding Barclava's training."

They bowed respectfully.

"You fought well, Your Highness."

"We wish you glory in battle."

"Glory? I'm not marching to my death."

I smirked.

"Peter, Olivier, Jeffrey. Let's retire for now."

"Yes!"

"I'll arrange a special dinner tonight."

"Excellent. I'm craving veal roast—make it tender."

"Understood. I'll procure calf meat under one year old—"

"Seasoned with salt and pepper, cooked rare."

"Noted."

Olivier scribbled in his notebook.

"...Can we join? Their chef's skills are divine."

Chase's idiotic remark earned him a chorus of scolding.

"Are you insane?"

"Read the room."

"Absolute moron."

Chase protested indignantly.

"Why the abuse?"

'Even I'd have scolded you for that, Chase.'

Musing inwardly, I recalled the duel's decisive moment.

'Heinrix, was it? The Grand Commander's as sharp as expected.'

A man of his insight must have noticed the unorthodox technique I'd used.

Yet he'd said nothing.

'Well, you don't reach that position on skill alone.'

Whose faction did he belong to? Verdzig's? Or simply the Duke's?

'Does Ludan know something?'

I chuckled, imagining my walking encyclopedia—the elderly librarian.

'First, back to the underworld.'

By now, Zizek should've met Kimret and concluded negotiations.

'That marks the beginning of Karzan's new enterprise.'

I could only hope Kimret and his organization wouldn't disappoint.

***

"My, it's been ages. Never thought anyone would come asking for 'Kimret.'"

A sharply dressed man entered the room.

"So you're the 'smuggling broker' Kimret."

"Haha, others call me a smuggler, but I dislike the term."

The man using the alias Kimret chattered amiably as he sat.

"We've met before? Ah, first encounter then. May I ask who sent you?"

Zizek recalled Karzan's intel and countered:

"Remember a blond nobleman you met at Grunewald Harbor?"

"......?"

Zizek's frown cleared as he snapped his fingers.

"Ah! Surely not—?"

Though Kimret hadn't caught Allenvert's name that day—

He'd since struggled to shake off suspicious pursuers twice, forcing him to hastily abandon the Kimret alias.

"I'm here on his behalf."

"Well, well."

Kimret clicked his tongue in disbelief.

"Most unexpected guest."

"Word is you deal in mountain tribe spirit medicines. Correct?"

"Ah, seeking those? Certainly. State your requirements—"

"No, that's not it."

Zizek shook his head.

"I'm asking if you trade with them directly."

"Oh, that."

Kimret's smile turned strained.

Foll𝑜w current novℯls on ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm.

"Truthfully, we lack stable dealings. But their goods can be... acquired indirectly."

"I see."

Misreading Zizek's reaction, Kimret hastily added:

"Don't despair. My suppliers are reliable—"

"No, you misunderstand."

Zizek lowered his voice.

"If you're willing, we can arrange direct trade."

"......!"

Kimret's expression transformed.

"This..."

His joviality vanished, eyes turning icy.

"You don't seem the type for mad jokes."

"Dead serious."

At Zizek's smirk, Kimret narrowed his eyes.

"You came to negotiate with me?"

"To propose a business venture, precisely."

Balthazar and Tara's premium spirit medicines and herbs—their guaranteed demand, efficacy, and value meant—

Securing a steady supply chain alone would let Karzan drain the underworld's coffers dry.

That much was obvious from the greed flashing in Kimret's eyes.

"But if you lack authority to decide, I'll speak to your superiors."

"......"

Cornered, Kimret made an offer.

"Correct. Would you meet my patron?"

"Who might that be?"

"Frankly, their usual merchandise differs."

"How so?"

"One might call them... a Merchant of Death."

The unexpected name made Zizek's eyes widen.

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]