Chapter 26: They Say Rainy Days and Black Lace Go Best with Lovely Legs?

The Old Mage and I stepped out of the wooden hut, one after the other. Cindira had just regained her Battle Aura cultivation and needed time to recuperate her body.

"President, Master, what do we do next?" asked a nervous young man from town. No one had expected a settlement so close to the village—let alone one this sizable.

"Don’t worry. The folks here are friendly. We’ll just say hello and head back to town," I reassured them.

"But President! This is a bandit stronghold, right?" an older boy interjected.

"Huh? How’d you know?"

"The big wooden sign at the gate says so. Didn’t you see it when you arrived?"

Like I’d notice a sign while unconscious. Still, it made sense—bandits who announce themselves? The sheer audacity stunned me. Building a century-old enterprise? Was this stronghold ninety-seven years from becoming a heritage brand? "Trust our time-honored banditry for all your kidnapping needs"?

"Don’t sweat it. This ‘stronghold’ isn’t that kind of stronghold. It’s just a normal village—its name happens to be Stronghold!" I bluffed.

The half-grown boys looked utterly confused. A village named Stronghold? Stronghold Village?

"How did you find me here?" I asked, puzzled.

"Well," the older boy took over, "Miss Monaluna came to town again today, asking us to help find the Old Mage, who’d gone mountain herb-gathering. Then she mentioned you were with him, so we rallied more people to search. Our group just happened to bump into the Master."

"Oh? Why’d you say ‘again’?" I grinned slyly at the Old Mage. Heh—hearing "as usual"? So the whole town knew about his legendary sense of direction.

"Hmph! What’s so funny, brat? Without me, you’d never have found this place!"

"Exactly! After meeting the Master, we were all worried when you weren’t with him. But he insisted he could find you. We followed him through twists and turns until we finally got here—and you were! It’s incredible!" The boy shot the Old Mage an awestruck look.

"Tch! What’s incredible about—"

"*Cough! Cough!*" The Old Mage cut me off with a violent fit. Seriously? If not for the tracking spell I’d planted on him, his "Where’s Waldo?" level of directionlessness would’ve left me searching for them. Next time, I’m using a keyed, anti-jamming tracker.

"Has anyone seen where Monaluna went?" I was more worried about that silly girl doing something reckless.

"No, Miss Monaluna moved too fast—we couldn’t see."

Trouble. It was mountainside, dusk was falling, and danger could strike. I turned to the Old Mage, who was basking in the youths’ blind admiration.

"Master, where did Monaluna go?"

"How should I know? I was inside the hut," he said dismissively.

"...Well, that’s it then. When we get home, your precious Nana tells Helle what happened today, and we’ll be eating ‘premium cuisine’ for days." No escaping this.

"*Ahem!* I recall now—I saw Nana head toward the crooked tree, fifty meters past the stronghold gate."

...You saw that clearly? You must’ve slapped a high-tier tracker on Monaluna. Seeing through half the stronghold? Yeah, right.

"Master, you’re amazing!" the youths chorused in awe.

"...Forget it. You kids have fun. I’ll check if anything’s wrong." Too tired to argue, I trudged toward the gate, one heavy step at a time.

Night fell slowly. Candles flickered to life in the stronghold. Children playing outside reluctantly parted from friends under mothers’ scolds, tumbling into warm embraces. The streets quieted.

In prosperity or ruin, common folk suffer most. The most innocent victims were the souls slaughtered in this once-nameless village—and the widows and orphans who barely escaped death.

How could the finance minister’s second son fail to obtain dozens of cotton coats through proper channels?

Why did his guards stand by while their young mistress committed family-damning folly?

A discreet noble feud had exploded across aristocratic circles overnight?

A finance minister securing only a minor military post for his second son? He clearly didn’t favor this illegitimate child.

Yet this mere civil official dared to clash head-on with the Purple Judas family—the military powerhouse holding most of the empire’s armies—for his disgraced son? He must adore him.

So did he cherish his second son or not?

A scholar challenging the continent-famed war god of the Purple Judas clan...

And winning? The finance minister won? The estate’s accountant beat the head of security?

Perhaps the accountant stood behind the estate’s true master.

Lost in thought, I reached the gate and saw the legendary sign: a large square plank, red background, black characters. A vein throbbed on my forehead. Only the bandits of Shuihu Liangshan matched this audacity. Below it hung a smaller board, crudely sketching the stronghold’s layout.

I’d read countless books and watched endless shows in my past life. I swear on a lamp—this was the first stronghold bold enough to display its internal map at the gate. Not even Shuihu Liangshan went that far!

I turned toward the crooked tree. Don’t stare—my heart can’t take it.

"Monaluna, are you there?" I called softly to the figure behind the tree.

"Not here!"

"What about the kindest, sweetest, most beautiful little Nana?"

"Pfft! Shameless flirt." Monaluna turned, red-rimmed eyes glistening with tear tracks on her pretty face.

"Why are you crying?" I pulled out my gloves to heal her.

"None of your business! Go cozy up to your vixen!" she huffed.

"Uh, she’s my patient. I was treating her!"

"Liar! You were straddling that vixen. Do I look three? I asked Aunt Sally the fishmonger with Helle about improper relations—you can’t fool me!"

Who? That fishmonger who taught Helle about "improper relations"? Can’t you find a normal source?!

"Really, she’s a patient. Ask your grandfather later. She’s terminally ill, dying. I used all my strength to heal her because she saved this entire village. You’re half a mage—feel my mana. I’m not lying."

"Huh... your big mana blob is almost gone. Did I misjudge you?"

Half a Swordmage? Your grandpa’s a legendary archmage? Shouldn’t your mana units be "corlens"? "Big blob" and "almost gone"? Seriously?

I shook my head. No point arguing mage theory with this airhead. Swordmages focus on Battle Aura; magic’s just support. If not for her grandpa’s legacy and her decent talent, she couldn’t even cast a wind blade.

"So... how did she save the whole village?"

"It’s a long story. Walk with me, and I’ll explain..." Mission accomplished. I took Monaluna’s hand and headed back into the stronghold.

Along the way, I told her about Cindira—artfully edited. In my version, the righteous, valiant knight Cindira Amodeir became an unyielding hero. She stood against evil to protect innocent villagers. Though she fell alone, she bargained for the elders’, sick’s, and children’s lives by shattering her Battle Aura Vortex and exiling herself. Yet she never abandoned them, leading them here to build Stronghold Village. Years of labor and the hidden wounds from her shattered vortex finally broke her health. I admired her spirit, so I drained my mana to ease her pain.

"And that’s it. Heroes shouldn’t bleed and cry alone. Good deeds deserve rewards."

"Mm. Sister Cindira is so noble. You were right—I was wrong." Monaluna wiped her damp eyes, face set with earnest resolve.

Guilt pricked me for fooling this pure-hearted girl, but a happy ending was worth it. I sighed inwardly—thankfully, she’s gullible!

"How’s Sister Cindira’s figure?"

"Mmm... 9 out of 10. Killer chest and legs! Seriously, at seventeen, that kind of bounce is rare. And her skin’s porcelain-white! You know, ‘fair skin hides flaws, extra weight ruins all.’ Plus, it flushed red after the shock—such a fascinating trait. Her waist’s slim, but as a soldier, she walks with no swaying grace—just raw valor. That contrast! But her legs... smooth, long, firm but not flabby. Mmm~"

"Mmm~ Black lace underwear would make them look even whiter, right?"

"Wow, you’ve got an eye for this. Black lace on snow-white thighs! It’s... it’s... it’s..." Cold sweat beaded on my brow.

"A perfect match?!" Monaluna already held Wingside Breeze. Wind elements surged toward the blade, swirling in the rune array.

"Nana! Let me explain!"

"Die! Chaotic Cut!!!"

***BOOOOM~~~~~***

Lately, I’ve been passing out way too often.