Chapter 71
Chapter 71
Yan glared at the inscription beneath the statue. “To think I’d see that dog-like face again.” Momon ground his teeth in anger, spewing curses. But Yan had no time to keep pace with Momon’s tantrum.
Thump, thump.
His mana heart reacted the entire time he read the inscription. It clearly meant there was a carving within the statue. “With one sword, a thousand soldiers fall.” Yan mulled over those words. To the average person, it would seem like a boastful exaggeration, but Yan knew better. There were those capable of such feats. For instance, during his journey to the North. The countless barbarians who scaled Beowulf’s walls were frozen solid by the Duke’s “Eternal Frost” domain, unable to resist. At that time, Duke Beowulf didn’t even draw his sword. Merely rolling on the ground, he unleashed an immense energy that slaughtered the barbarian hordes.
“Hmm.” Yan stroked his chin, deep in thought. ‘It’s not a clue about domain expansion. The founder is known as the strongest in the empire, no, in the history of the continent.’ If it were about the domain, the numbers would be different. Not ‘thousands,’ but ‘hundreds of thousands.’
It made more sense to look at the meaning behind each word rather than the sentence as a whole. “One sword.” It means to swing the sword once. “Falls a thousand soldiers.” It’s literal.
“What in the world does this mean!” Yan scratched his head in frustration. No answers came to mind. Momon seemed amused by Yan’s confusion. [Did you forget what you gained from the riddle last time?]
Yan’s lips twitched. Of course, he knew there would be some strange riddle attached to the piece he needed to obtain. But how could he solve it if he couldn’t even grasp the riddle? “With one sword, a thousand soldiers fell.” It’s something a second, no, a third-class warrior could easily achieve. But would the founder have really inscribed such a phrase with that meaning?
Yan took a deep breath to calm his throbbing headache. Then he examined the statue again, from top to bottom.
The founder’s figure, with his sword hanging down. He was dressed in the ‘Yellow Dragon Robe’ worn by successive emperors, crowned with a golden circlet. The sword in his hand was familiar. It was the ‘Dragon Sword’ he had been slain with in his past life.
“...Wait.” Yan’s eyes widened as he inspected the Dragon Sword. “Why are there scratches on the Dragon Sword?”
It was impossible. The Dragon Sword was supposed to maintain its flawless blade even in the future. He knew it well, having been cut by it. The hardness of the Dragon Sword was beyond imagination.