The Terminally Ill Prince is the Mad Dog of the Underworld (Novel) - Chapter 15
Chapter 15. I Aim for the Underworld from the Sunlight
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The morning of the second day dawned.
Despite lacking sleep from raging all night, I woke up feeling incredibly refreshed.
“Vitality is insane.”
Just reaching the 2nd tier felt this remarkable. No wonder it’s a prestigious family’s mental technique, damn it.
‘The smell’s mostly gone too.’
Thanks to opening the window and burning incense.
I yawned widely and sat up. The cool morning air following the sunlight awakened my senses.
“Hmm.”
I quickly closed my mouth, afraid insects might enter.
“Does this place always have such weather?”
Truly a southern sun. With abundant sunlight and the sea reflecting light, everything was brilliantly bright. To get depression living here would be a skill in itself, Allenbert.
‘With strength overflowing, I’m itching to move.’
I wanted to immediately draw and swing a sword. If I had even a small knife, I’d be eager to dance a blade dance right here.
‘Is this the mental technique Grünewald boasts about?’
Instead of the murky, rootless mana, a refined mana cultivated through pure technique flowed through my body like a clear, noble river.
The efficiency, response speed, and purity were worlds apart. It was like upgrading from riding a donkey to mounting an expensive warhorse. Something like that.
Whoosh.
Concentrating mana in my fist, a subtle aura glowed. As the mental technique’s level increases, this light would become a martial energy enveloping the fist like a gauntlet.
Excited, I lightly punched and drew numerous martial paths in the air using my shoulders, hips, and knees.
“Swish, swoosh, swish.”
In short, I was going crazy by the window from morning.
But who would know that these punches once brought martial artists to their knees and beat underworld punks?
“Wow, this is damn exhausting.”
Despite using mana, my heart and lungs, being untrained, quickly ran out of breath. I felt like someone who’d never run in their life. Nevertheless.
‘The difference in mental techniques with the same mana is this significant. Unbelievable.’
With future training, I could potentially traverse battlefields more lightly.
With increased muscle strength and mana, I could swing a hammer-like fist rooted like a mountain. When the wielded weapon changes from martial arts to sword, the technique would change again.
‘Since the mental technique changed, I’ll need to modify all existing techniques.’
But I can’t do such rootless fighting in front of others. I’ll need to master Grünewald’s sword technique soon.
Not just superficially, but truly understanding the sword’s principles – I can’t miss this opportunity.
‘Good, this is interesting.’
In martial arts, I’m not a student who hates learning, but a greedy person whose eyes gleam with the desire to devour and make everything my own.
‘…A talent of a grand master.’
In my past, I often received such praise from those I crossed blades with. It might have been true.
But Karzan’s martial arts were like an imperfect flower blooming in a barren desert, swaying in rough, dry winds.
That process was full of trial and error, failure, and confusion. I was always held back by rootless mental techniques and insufficient mana.
In other words, I never fully unleashed my potential.
‘If I could devour all the martial arts accumulated by the Grünewald family over hundreds of years, everything would change.’
The higher my position in this family, the more opportunities and medicinal supplements I’ll obtain.
Then we’ll see how high the mad dog of the underworld, born as a noble house’s young master, can climb.
“I can’t simply die as a terminal patient.”
And one more thing-
‘This brilliant city must have darkness too.’
Just as light creates shadows, where money and power gather, underworlds emerge.
It’s impossible that a city of this scale doesn’t have black hands eyeing its interests.
I’m unsure how deep and dangerous Grünewald’s underworld is… but with the strength I’ve regained today, I’m confident I could beat up most low-tier organizations alone.
‘If I can connect with the duchy’s darkness.’
Undoubtedly, the position and trajectory of Allenbert, merely the fourth discarded son, would completely transform. Because power without shadows cannot exist.
Or rather…
The idea of climbing to the top of power without touching the underworld is nothing more than a midsummer night’s delusion.
It’s an impossible joke, a fantasy. Who could do that without bloodying their hands?
Even if a lucky firstborn were designated as a minor duke from the start, his father’s brothers and cousins would eye that position.
At the foot of the throne, blood inevitably flows. That’s the essence of power.
‘In that sense, should I be grateful?’
I knew a man who dominated the sunlight from the shadows and the shadows from the sunlight.
His insidiousness killed me. Therefore, in this life, I too will seize the underworld and build a force to support my back.
I looked down at the sailing ships gliding across the vast sea.
“That’s all money. Damn.”
The dockside laborers and merchants loading and unloading cargo were much clearer today.
Among them, some would be smuggling, others helping fugitives and criminals’ secret passages. Blade wielders, mercenaries, and transients would be quietly disembarking.
‘I can see right through it, good grief.’
The streets of the poor outside the glamorous mansions were vividly visible. That’s the world I’ll need to step into again someday.
“Wait for me, you b*st*rds.”
The mad dog Karzan is returning.
***
Peter arrived earlier than usual.
“Young master, thank you so much. The youngest has recovered quickly, and mother is doing well today. We’ll have meat with warm soup again.”
Peter bowed his head as soon as he saw me.
“That’s fortunate.”
“My siblings asked me to definitely convey their gratitude. They say they’ll absolutely repay the debt…”
“What debt would children have?”
“Mother also instructed me. She said to serve a noble person faithfully.”
“That’s wise advice. Make sure to listen to your mother.”
“Yes.”
Peter’s eyes welled up with tears.
“Crying again?”
“Oh, I’m truly blessed. Please order me to do anything. I’ll gladly offer my humble life…”
“Stop exaggerating. I have nothing to order right now.”
“Yes.”
“I’m suddenly thirsty. Bring some water.”
“But you just said you had nothing to order.”
“Shut up.”
“Yes.”
“Oh, and.”
I finally remembered what I wanted to ask Peter.
“See those dirty clothes? Wash them together.”
Peter lifted the clothes and immediately blocked his nose from the stench.
“Did you… defecate on these?”
“Are you crazy? Would I do something like that?”
“Then what on earth…”
“When purifying the body with a proper mental technique, waste materials are naturally expelled. How would you understand such profound principles?”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Foolish fellow. What martial arts could I discuss with someone like you?”
I clicked my tongue and teased Peter.
“Scolding from morning. So you entered the Ocean Circulation Technique last night?”
“Yes.”
“Seems like something’s changed…”
Talking was useless; demonstration was better. I plucked a steel button.
Crunch!
As I crushed the button with my fingers, Peter’s mouth dropped open.
“Wow.”
“This is nothing.”
Peter took the crushed button and exclaimed.
“Impressive!”
“Right?”
“But if you randomly tear buttons, who’ll do the mending?”
“Asking an obvious question, you fool.”
I nodded and retorted.
“Obviously you’ll do it. Isn’t that easier than offering your life?”
“Well, I suppose…”
After chasing away the aggrieved-looking Peter, I glanced out the window.
‘Who’s coming?’
I saw someone walking towards me from a distance.
* * *
A middle-aged man with a document bag was walking towards the annex of the Grünewald ducal castle.
“Hmm.”
How uncomfortable these times had been.
Hired as a tutor for Allenbert Grünewald, the fourth young master, he’d been eating humble pie for months without even meeting his student.
‘Finally awake.’
Thinking about the salary coming for free made him want to stay, but he was growing increasingly troubled by a life wasting time without purpose.
Moreover, teaching a student who was terminal and would die within a few years often made him feel melancholic.
‘There’s no greater hardship than teaching an unmotivated student.’
If Young Master Allenbert recovered from his fever, he would submit his resignation immediately.
…This was precisely when he had solidified such a resolution and received the head butler’s summons.
‘The young master has changed, so observe carefully?’
Head Butler Aiden was always someone difficult to look directly in the eye. Such an instruction felt incredibly burdensome.
‘How exactly has he changed? And why show interest now? Wasn’t he a completely abandoned child?’
As the tutor arrived at the annex and wiped sweat from his forehead, a servant guided him to the young master’s bedroom.
“Ah, you’ve arrived.”
Guided by the servant, he tentatively asked:
“How is the young master?”
“Well, um.”
The servant hesitated to answer.
“Honestly, we’re not quite sure. He’s been moving unpredictably and his speech has changed.”
An answer that only increased questions.
“I see.”
He lightly knocked on the door. The servant was already backing away uncomfortably.
“Oh, come in.”
“?”
A pleasant voice but an inappropriate tone. The tutor tilted his head at the street-like response and entered.
“Who are you?”
“…Ahem. I’m the tutor who used to teach you. So the memory loss was true.”
“Oh! Is that so?”
Allenbert, changing expression, lowered his hand from scratching his belly and stood up.
‘Now who sent this person?’
A brother, or the head butler? Either way, Allenbert thought it was convenient.
‘This is an opportunity to gather information.’
Preferably about events during the 17-year gap. Bonus if he could stamp his own impression.
And most importantly…
‘I have something I wanted to ask.’
Allenbert’s eyes sparkled.