The Terminally Ill Young Master is the Mad Dog of the Underworld-Chapter 231

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]

Chapter 231: The Selection Exam

Jeffrey placed an object resembling a turtle's shell on the stone slab.

"This is a basilisk's shell. It boasts a hardness greater than steel."

Jeffrey infused his mana and flicked his finger, producing a resonating sound like striking a sword blade.

"Breaking or piercing this will be the passing condition for the first stage. You can use a sword, spear, or bow. Surely no madman would try to use their fists, right?"

Jeffrey's joke spread a ripple of laughter through the group.

"First, I'll demonstrate."

Jeffrey examined the shell from various angles.

"Hmm, the edge sticks out a bit and isn't pretty. I'll cut this part off."

Woong!

A deep navy-colored sword energy rose from Jeffrey's sword.

It was sword energy honed with the exclusive martial arts passed down only to the Grunewald Royal Guard members.

'This brings back old memories.'

Jeffrey thought.

He too had gone through countless training sessions to overcome this barrier during his rookie days.

How many swords had he broken in the process, and how many times had his palms been torn?

'When I managed to cut this, I had finally reached the late stage of the third tier.'

But now, having crossed the barrier of the fifth tier and looking at this object again, his heart felt light, as if preparing to cut a bare twig.

"Haiyaaah!"

With a shout that oddly resembled someone else's, Jeffrey's sword cleanly split the basilisk's shell in two.

"Wow..."

The applicants watching gasped in admiration.

The basilisk's shell had been sliced cleanly and smoothly, as if cutting through cheese.

Clap clap clap clap clap!

Applause followed, along with flattery directed at their future superior.

"What a magnificent stroke!"

"I admire you!"

"I worship you!"

Allenvert, quietly observing the scene, whispered:

"Peter, I think there's a small nick in the blade there."

"You can see that?"

"Of course. Who do you think I am?"

Pretending not to hear, Jeffrey called out:

"Number one, step forward."

"Yes, sir!"

A long-haired, bearded swordsman stepped forward and—

Clang!

It was the sword that broke.

"Hmm, a perfect failure."

Jeffrey said, marking an X on the paper he was holding.

"If your sword energy is uneven, it breaks easily. You, which unit are you from?"

"The- the Security Guard, sir."

"That explains it. In the royal guard, we do a lot of training like this to build cutting power and sword energy strength."

Jeffrey looked at the applicants and asked:

"How about in the knighthood?"

"Similar, sir. Though we use steel."

"..."

The applicants from the Security Guard hung their heads.

"Did you hear that? Your training is still insufficient. You might have been hot stuff in the Security Guard, but not in other units."

"...I will strive to improve."

Number one bit his lip.

"And your hair is too long. Remember that strengthening your muscles and maintaining proper posture is far more soldierly than decorating your appearance."

"I'll... keep that in mind, sir."

Allenvert, watching this exchange, said to Peter:

"He sounds just like an old fart. Give someone an armband and they change completely—that's exactly what they mean."

"He can hear you, young master."

Jeffrey glared at Allenvert.

"Please be quiet."

But it was a futile request.

"Wow, look at how he glares at his lord. Should we appoint a new commander right now? Olivier, would you consider handing over your butler position to Peter and walking the path of a soldier instead?"

At this, Peter's eyes lit up.

"Wow, am I getting promoted?"

"On second thought, the butler position is too much for you. Let's forget I mentioned it."

"Yes, sir."

Regardless of this exchange—

Jeffrey signaled, and the annex employees quickly laid down two more shells.

"Now, since we don't have much time, three people will attempt at once. Numbers 2, 3, and 4, step forward."

"Yes, sir!"

.

.

.

"Hmm."

Allenvert was carefully examining the applicants' spirit, eyes, and martial arts.

"There's no one useful among the 10-number applicants. Let's see what the 20-number group is like."

The level of the applicants was generally excellent, but Allenvert's standards were exceptionally high.

"Oh?"

At that moment, Allenvert raised his eyebrows, sensing an unusual mana.

"That guy has quite promising mana when he draws it up."

Olivier, immediately understanding whom he was referring to, answered:

"He's among the top talents among the applicants."

"So he's not just all talk. Kaimak, was it? Is he a noble?"

"Yes. The second son of Viscount Schwarzenfeld."

"Oh ho."

"He's a bit loose in the head, but he's considered one of the young knights who could rise to the position of knighthood commander in the future."

"Wow, that good?"

Allenvert examined Kaimak Schwarzenfeld's appearance in detail.

"He's a beanpole."

He was tall with broad shoulders.

However, his face was thin and his waist narrow, giving him a somewhat slender impression.

"Just looking at his physique, he seems well-suited for mounted combat."

"I hear he's been properly trained since childhood."

"Is that so? As expected of my butler. You've investigated thoroughly."

"I merely did what needed to be done."

His hair was reddish-brown, and his eyes were sunken with large facial features. In a word—

"Better looking than Jeffrey."

Allenvert summarized.

"Correct."

Olivier promptly agreed.

"But not as handsome as you."

"Most accurate, sir."

Allenvert looked at Peter.

"What are you looking at? This isn't your place to join in."

"I didn't say anything."

"Really? Noted."

Meanwhile, Kaimak, the subject of their conversation, was engaged in a battle of nerves with Taris.

"Hey, Taris. Let's see who can cut more cleanly."

Taris calmly replied:

"I'm better at thrusting."

"..."

Kaimak, though caught off guard by the unexpected response, recovered quickly:

"Then I'll use thrusting too."

"Really? You must be confident."

"Of course!"

Kaimak puffed out his chest.

"I'll show you my new sword technique that I've devised by combining the martial arts of the knighthood and our Schwarzenfeld clan traditions."

"He thinks he's some grand master."

Taris snorted.

"That's only possible for someone like our young master Allenvert."

"Hmph, naturally for our future lord."

"Number 28! Step forward!"

Kaimak, having been called, strode forward confidently.

"I'll begin now."

"Proceed."

"Hoo."

Taking a deep breath to clear his mind, Kaimak raised his sword to his chest.

"Here I go, the Grunewald-Schwarzenfeld combined sword technique! Swallow Piercer!"

"What a fancy name. What bullshit."

Ignoring Taris's muttering, Kaimak thrust at the basilisk's shell.

"Here I go!"

***

In the first stage, a total of 70 people qualified for the next round.

"The failure rate is 30 percent. Better results than expected."

"So at this rate, will we end up with 10 people at the end?"

"Well, well. Your arithmetic skills have improved."

"I've been studying hard lately!"

"Good. Keep up the good work."

Allenvert casually praised Peter.

"Hehe, thank you."

"But 10 people would be too few. Anyway, keep watching."

"Yes!"

Jeffrey addressed those who had passed the first stage:

"The second stage will test your overall combat ability. High martial ranking doesn't necessarily make you strong. Above all, we need members who fight well."

Therefore, Jeffrey continued:

"The condition is simple. Try to withstand five exchanges against me and Butler Olivier."

"Whaaaat?"

To the shocked applicants, Jeffrey added:

"In return, we'll adjust our power to the mid-fourth tier level."

"Even so, to endure five exchanges..."

"Raise your hand if you can't do it. Let's save time."

Seeing the applicants' silence, Jeffrey smirked.

"But it would be too time-consuming and difficult for just the two of us to spar with 70 people. So I'll introduce three more examiners."

On cue, three Special Operations Division members stepped forward.

"Today, members of the 2nd Battalion of the Special Operations Division will assist us."

"What?!"

"Good God!"

Chase and two other Special Operations Division members glared at the applicants with bloodthirsty eyes.

"Just so you know, we won't go easy on you."

"Anyone who faces us might as well consider themselves dead."

"We'll make you feel all the pain we endured during our hellish training."

"Did your true intentions just slip out?"

"Shut up."

The applicants' faces turned ashen upon witnessing the ominous bloodlust of the Special Operations Division members.

The Special Operations Division, known as the strongest elite unit in the principality, and specifically the 2nd Battalion, infamous for being crazy fanatics devoted to Ulbhild!

"We'll start right away. Front numbers, come forward in order."

.

.

.

Jeffrey assessed the applicants' defensive stance and coping abilities with light attacks.

"You just defended all five exchanges. I deliberately gave you an opening for a counterattack on the third move."

"That, that is..."

"Failed. Go back and train harder."

Meanwhile, Olivier checked how well his opponents could read and respond to his signature flowing consecutive attacks.

"You carelessly stepped into the trap I deliberately left open at the fourth move. That's why you were caught by the fifth attack."

"...!"

"Your natural talent isn't bad, but you lack flexibility. Failed."

Unlike these two, the Special Operations Division members' tests were extremely simple.

"Owww!"

"Please, please go easy on me!"

"Shut up! If you can't handle it, get lost!"

Watching this, Allenvert muttered:

"So they're just beating the shit out of them."

"It's brutal."

As Taris waited for his turn, Kaimak approached and spoke to him.

"Hey, your thrust earlier was terrible. If I were the examiner, I would have failed you."

Taris, getting annoyed, replied half-heartedly:

"I saw you massaging your wrist earlier. Did you strain it?"

"Wha-what are you saying? When did I?"

"When you were pretending to check your blade but secretly massaging it."

"You're making crazy accusations. How dare you treat me, the White Prince Kaimak—"

"You there! Stop chattering and come forward!"

"Yes, sir!"

As Kaimak stepped forward at Jeffrey's call, Taris said to his back:

"Captain, please just beat the crap out of this guy and fail him."

Kaimak's eyes bulged.

"Are you requesting favoritism based on personal connections?"

"I'm too scared to say anything more."

Changing his expression to a friendly one, Kaimak turned to Jeffrey and saluted.

"It's an honor, Commander!"

"I'm not the Commander yet."

"You will be soon, so it's fine!"

"And you're not a personal guard member yet either."

"I'll definitely pass, so it's no problem!"

Jeffrey sighed and infused more mana into his sword.

"In that case, I'll specially raise the standard for you."

"Even better! It's an honor!"

Raising his sword to the upper right, Jeffrey changed the path mid-way and slashed upward at Kaimak's flank.

Clang!

Kaimak blocked it with somewhat exaggerated movements, causing Jeffrey to twitch his eyebrow.

'What's this? Did he eat well as a child? His mana is considerable.'

The counter-force he felt was substantial.

'Good, let's see your skills then.'

Jeffrey pressured Kaimak with a more difficult sword technique than he had used on previous participants.

Three exchanges, four exchanges, five exchanges passed—

"I blocked it!"

Kaimak clenched his fist and cheered after barely blocking a technique that would have defeated most swordsmen.

"...You've learned swordsmanship properly."

Jeffrey licked his lips.

"But if you pass the final selection, start by reducing your chatter. My ears hurt."

"Hehehe, understood!"

After smoothly passing Olivier's test, Taris approached Jeffrey and whispered.

"Captain, please assign me to a different unit than him. This crazy guy keeps sticking to me for some reason."

"You've made a mistake, Taris."

Jeffrey replied.

"Hearing that makes me want to put you two together by any means necessary."

"This is driving me crazy, seriously."

***

I sat next to my mother, munching on peanuts while watching the applicants.

"Allen, how many are you planning to select?"

My mother asked worriedly, seeing that not many were passing the tests of Jeffrey, Olivier, and the Special Operations Division members.

"While it's good to select elites, if the numbers are too few..."

"About 30 would be ideal," I answered.

"We're evaluating skills only up to the second stage. The dropout rate in the third stage probably won't be high."

"What kind of test are you planning?"

I grinned and said:

"I have something I've borrowed from Elder Geninghen for this purpose."

[Translator - Pot ]

[Proofreader - Kawaii ]