Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 234

Chapter 234: Linked to the Traitor!
“I should go now.” The man with the black hair offered a rueful smile to Ryan as he rose from his seat, his eyes briefly locking with Ryan’s in a silent apology before he turned to face the approaching figures.

With deliberate calmness, he traversed the short distance toward the group, his hand only reaching for the long sword sheathed at his side when he was a mere three meters away from the foremost challenger clad in a Sword uniform.

“Clang——”

The crisp sound of steel drawn from leather resonated through the tavern, arresting the conversations and causing a hush to fall.

A streak of green light flashed, ephemeral and swift, and in an instant, the black-haired man’s figure vanished as if swallowed by the shadows. The men by the door, their postures still aggressive moments ago, now stood frozen, a vacant look clouding their eyes.

Almost imperceptibly, a tiny speck of blood appeared on each of their foreheads, marking the fatal precision of an unseen strike, each had been pierced through the brain, dying instantly.

“Bang!”

The thud of bodies hitting the wooden floor shattered the silence. Murmurs and gasps swept through the remaining crowd.

“He’s a disciple of the Sky Sword Dojo!”

“It’s over for us!”

Pandemonium ensued as patrons scrambled to their feet, a collective fear urging them towards the exits. Ryan, too, felt the urgency, his heart pounding as he slipped out with the fleeing crowd, blending into the chaos with practiced ease.

Once outside, swallowed up by the bustling street, Ryan allowed himself a deep, shaky breath. The man’s identity remained shrouded in mystery, yet the implications of his actions were unmistakably dire. Had Ryan known the danger this encounter could bring, he would have steered clear from the start.

The frenzied discussions he had overheard were clear: the fallen were disciples of the Sky Sword Dojo, a faction not to be trifled with. Though rumors spoke of an aging, frail leader, Ryan knew the dojo brimmed with formidable warriors, each capable of fearsome feats.

Considering himself a competent fourth-level fighter, Ryan still had no desire to entangle himself with unknown, powerful adversaries over a fleeting interaction. His connection with the black-haired man had been brief, hopefully too brief to draw unwanted attention…

“Boom!”

The abrupt roar of an explosion tore his thoughts away. Beside him, a building erupted into chaos, spewing debris and a thick cloud of dust into the air. From the wreckage, a figure plummeted, striking the ground mere feet from where Ryan stood.

Pedestrians screamed and scattered, their previous tranquility shattered by the sudden violence.

From the smoke emerged three figures dressed in white Sword uniforms adorned with blue patterns. As they strode purposefully toward Ryan, the weight of the unfolding events pressed down on him, a stark reminder of the perilous world he navigated.

“He’s one of the core disciples of the Sky Sword Dojo!”

“Let’s get out of here!”

“There are only five core disciples in the entire dojo, and three of them are right here!”

Ryan’s eyebrows knitted together as he overheard snippets of conversations from the scattering crowd. His gaze fell upon the black-haired man who was now half-kneeling in a freshly formed crater in the street. Moments earlier, the man had executed a spectacular escape, only to be subdued in an instant.

In the crater, the black-haired man cast a quick glance at Ryan. Perhaps out of concern for Ryan’s safety, he offered no greeting and instead transformed into a streak of green light, disappearing down the bustling street.

The three core disciples of the Sky Sword Dojo exchanged a quick, knowing look.

“Based on the last visuals captured before their demise, this man might be linked to the ‘Rebel Sword,'” one murmured.

“Regardless, we should secure him first,” decided another.

With minimal further discussion, two of the disciples dashed off in pursuit of the black-haired figure, while the third approached Ryan with a commanding air.

“You are associated with the wanted criminal, the Sword Traitor. Come with me,” he stated, his tone brooking no argument as he reached out to seize Ryan.

It was clear from his demeanor that this was merely a formality; the power dynamic was skewed heavily in favor of the Sky Sword Dojo. As a formidable fourth-level professional and a member of the ruling force of the Sky Sea, the disciple had little interest in hearing excuses from someone he perceived as a lesser second-level professional.

Before his hand could make contact, a forceful aura pressed against Ryan, pinning him in place. But just as the disciple’s grip seemed inevitable.

“Bang!”

With a muffled impact, the disciple was sent hurtling back more than ten meters. Ryan, standing firm, slowly lowered his fist, a mixture of frustration and resignation on his face. The disciple, now steadying himself, glanced back at Ryan, his hand trembling slightly behind his back.

“If I told you that the swordsman you’re chasing and I merely crossed paths by chance, would you believe me?” Ryan asked, his voice tinged with helplessness.

This was nothing but the truth; their interaction had been brief and incidental.

“Such strength…” the disciple muttered under his breath, then hardened his expression. “Connection or not, you must come with me.”

He made no move to listen to Ryan’s explanations, his hand now gripping the sword at his waist. His aura intensified suddenly, sharp as the edge of his blade, and a surge of spiritual energy whipped around him, creating a gust of green wind that swept through the street.

Clearly, this was no ordinary fourth-level display, his spiritual prowess suggested a seasoned warrior, possibly with a spirituality score well over fifty points.

Ryan exhaled deeply, his mind flickering. Engaging in a conflict with the local power was the last thing he wanted, yet it seemed increasingly inevitable.

The last time I left the island, history repeated itself in the most uncanny way. Back then, I had unwittingly found myself entangled with the Libra Holy Cult. Although I managed to untangle the knotty alliance between the Libra Pope and the Ancient God Cult, the echoes of that chaos still haunted me…

As the standoff on the street escalated, Ryan braced himself, his fingers twitching towards the ether, ready to conjure his greatsword. But just as the air began to crackle with the summoning of magic energies, a sudden burst of green light materialized beside him. The presence felt familiar, soothing even, and Ryan, recognizing the aura, let his defenses fall as a hand gently clasped his shoulder.

In a dazzling explosion of verdant luminescence, the scene was enveloped, forcing the core disciple to shield his eyes. When the brilliance waned, Ryan’s form had vanished, spirited away from the conflict-ridden street.

Seconds ticked by before the other two disciples arrived, panting from their futile chase. They scanned the now-empty street, their expressions contorting with frustration.

“We let him slip through our fingers again,” one cursed under his breath.

“Damn it, even ‘Fate Star Guidance’ has failed us. We can’t pinpoint the Sword Traitor’s whereabouts,” another lamented, his voice tinged with defeat.

“Another technique, another failure,” the third added bleakly. With heavy hearts and no leads, they retreated, their mission unfulfilled.

…

Tucked away in a secluded alley on the outskirts of Sky City, the green glow subsided, revealing Ryan and the black-haired man, now both cloaked in the quietude of their refuge.

Turning to the man whose features were ashen from exertion, Ryan’s voice was steady, “Traitor Swordsman, Durand?”

It was a rhetorical question, Ryan was no fool. The disparity between this man’s demeanor and the notorious visage plastered on the wanted posters was stark, but Ryan knew the world held secrets and sorceries deep enough to alter any truth.

The man known as Durand merely sighed, no longer bound by the need for pretenses.

“I apologize, Mr. Purple Wind. My presence has entangled you in this mess.”

“It’s fine…” Ryan dismissed with a resigned wave of his hand.

The brief alliance with Durand meant that, in the eyes of the Sky Sword Hall, their fates were intertwined. But Ryan was prepared, his current guise crafted by the “Overturning Mask,” rendering him unrecognizable and detached from his true identity.

Even if the Sky Sword Doja misconstrued his involvement with Durand, what consequence was it to him, Ryan, hidden behind another face?

As he turned to leave, a chilling voice halted him.

“Sir, please come with me.”

The owner of the voice stepped forward, a woman in a sky-blue combat uniform, her long light brown hair neatly tied back, signaling a rank distinctly higher than that of the earlier disciples. Her uniform, entirely blue, marked her as no less than the chief of the Sky Sword Hall, the most formidable force beneath the dojo’s leader.

“Anyone linked to the traitor sword must face our judgment.”

“Come with me, please. If you are innocent, the Sky Sword Dojo will not wrong a righteous person.”

Her presence alone seemed to draw the cold around her, frost creeping over the cobblestones and walls, a silent testament to her formidable power.