School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start-Chapter 206 --The Thief Blight

One day, Blight encountered an old thief whose eyesight had failed him.

Seeing Blight all alone, he decided to pass on his thievery skills and essence.

Perhaps it was due to having a knack for it, or maybe it was the first time someone had placed such importance on him, not wanting to disappoint the old thief, he learned quickly.

The old thief was well-informed, and Blight was agile.

Together, over two years, they amassed a vast fortune.

Blight stole whatever the old thief requested.

Most of what he stole during those two years were valuable swords, for those who possessed them were either swordsmanship masters or wealthy nobles, making the task difficult but also more lucrative.

He never once failed, earning him the title of "sword thief" among the people.

Besides swords, he often pilfered several secret manuals of sword techniques.

In his spare time, he practiced swordsmanship and, relying on his understanding, even developed his own style of swordplay.

However, this carefree lifestyle lasted only two years.

One day, the old thief proposed a significant heist, neither from nobles nor sword masters, but to steal the legendary sword of the Martial Emperor from the royal palace.

Blight actually agreed.

He managed to infiltrate the royal palace by becoming a guard.

Over two months, he familiarized himself with the palace’s layout, the number of guards at each post, and their shift changes, even seducing a few lonely palace maids and noblewomen.

In short, after two months of reconnaissance, he felt he had gathered all the necessary information.

On a night when the moon was obscured and the wind was fierce, he donned his night gear and masked his face, infiltrating deep into the royal palace.

Along the way, he went undetected.

Most thieves and assassins rely on minimizing their presence to hide their tracks and avoid detection.

However, apart from those at the level of a "Saint of Thieves," few can achieve the complete concealment of their presence like top-tier assassins.

After all, ordinary thieves do not possess high levels of cultivation.

The sword thief employed a method different from other thieves; he changed his presence to blend with his surroundings.

For instance, in a garden, his presence would mimic that of a bee gathering nectar; in a granary, he would be like a mouse waiting for its moment to strike.

Those with high sensory abilities would never suspect the presence of a thief, while those with lower senses wouldn’t notice his deliberately disguised presence at all.

Thus, on this night, this "firefly" clad in black quietly slipped into the pavilion at the center of the royal palace garden.

He crouched beside the table inside the pavilion, searching up and down until he found a mechanism.

With a gentle twist, aided by the moonlight, he saw a man-high opening silently form on the side of a nearby artificial hill.

He crawled through it, following the secret passage underground.

The tunnel was short, only five meters long before it opened into a circular chamber.

In the center of the chamber stood a sword case.

He approached and gently opened it, revealing an ancient sword.

Just as he was about to reach for it, someone patted him on the shoulder.

"I was just wondering, how could a bug walk on the ground, open a mechanism, and come down here to steal? Who sent you?"

He stood there, not daring to respond, fearing his voice would be remembered, all the while pondering how to escape the situation.

"I thought I was dealing with a master, but it turns out you’re just someone playing at being clever. You have talent, so why choose to be a thief?"

"Enough of that, you’d better run. The moment that case was opened, twenty sword protectors would have been alerted and will be converging on this location from all directions. Whether you can escape or not will depend on your skill."

He turned around, but the person who had tapped him had already moved behind him in a blink.

"Thanks," he said, not even altering the tone of his voice.

"Hurry up and leave. Remember, whoever sent you to steal the sword wants your life."

He rushed out of the tunnel, vaulted over several courtyard walls, and slipped into the garden of a noblewoman he had seduced, entering her bedroom.

The woman hadn’t yet retired for the night and was smiling, sewing a pair of small shoes.

The sight of a man in black startled her, and she quickly grabbed the scissors beside her.

But then she let them go, recognizing her lover.

"It’s you, I knew happiness wouldn’t just fall from the sky..." Tears began to stream uncontrollably from her eyes.

"I’m sorry," he said, "I’m a thief, a thief who steals swords."

"You’re a thief who steals hearts!"

They looked at each other wordlessly.

He wanted to apologize but found he couldn’t speak; words felt so feeble compared to her tears.

As a thief, he hadn’t done anything wrong; that’s how the old thief had taught him.

But as a person, he shouldn’t have acted this way.

"Never mind, hide here for now," the woman said, wiping her tears.

Then she added, "Tomorrow, I’ll find a way to get you out."

That night, he shared a bed with the woman once again, but this time she did not allow him to touch her, and his heart was so full of guilt that he had no desire to.

The next day, he successfully blended in with the team of servants disposing of the palace’s waste water, making his way out of the royal palace without arousing the guards’ suspicion, thanks to the woman’s meticulous planning.

Upon leaving the palace, he hurried non-stop to the meeting place he had arranged with the old thief, the mysterious expert’s words in the tunnel long forgotten.

In his heart, the old thief was his kin, and he saw no reason to doubt him.

What he didn’t anticipate was a bloody confrontation awaiting him at the rendezvous.

More than twenty bandits had lain in ambush, surrounding him upon his arrival.

Despite fighting back fiercely and killing six men, he was eventually overwhelmed and left bloodied.

"Fool, do you know who I am?" the leader mocked, "I am your master’s son, ha-ha!"

"All of us here are experts at robbery, unable to learn the old man’s skills. He had no choice but to find a cash cow like you. Sadly, the old man’s days are numbered, and we’re about to return to the eastern sea. Otherwise, you could have made us even more money."

"I don’t believe it," he managed to squeeze out these words.

"Of course, you don’t, ha-ha-ha."

The bandit continued, "Someone who hands over all his money to others, someone who, upon another’s instigation, goes to steal a sword from the royal palace, of course, you wouldn’t believe."

"You are truly shameless," he was about to speak when suddenly a third voice sounded.

The bandit tightened his grip on the knife, barely uttering "Who’s there?" before a sword pierced his heart.

Accompanied by a flurry of graceful sword light, all the bandits lay dead on the ground.

He looked at the person, who was also looking at him.

"What do you plan to do now? Go and kill your master?" the swordsman asked, tilting a flask to his lips.

"No, what he said was all lies. My master is already dead."

"Hmm, losing a son in old age is akin to being dead oneself," the swordsman commented, taking another swig before tossing the iron sword to him.

"You’ve got talent; it’s a waste for you to be a thief."

"I’m the thief who infiltrated the imperial palace, wanted by the entire empire. Aren’t you going to capture me for the bounty?"

"Hmph, the only ones who know the thief is you are these dead bodies, your master, and me. I don’t have a bad impression of you, so I don’t feel like capturing you. But are you sure you don’t want to kill your master to silence him?"

"He was kind to me."

"Good! Very good!" The swordsman then threw a medicine bottle to him, saying, "Take one pill a day from this bottle, and your wounds will heal within two days. Remember, my name is Hass. When you make it big, you owe me ten years’ worth of fine wine."

"Thank..."

"No need for thanks, you should be going!" he suddenly said.

"What?"

"You should go back, Woody is waiting for you!"

...

Blight’s eyes snapped open.

"Big brother, you finally came back to life!" Woody moved forward in excitement, wanting to embrace Blight but was stopped by Plum Blossom.

"It’s uncertain if the lightwine has fully integrated into your brother’s body. It’s better if you wait a bit before getting affectionate."

"Lightwine? I think the old blindman mentioned that wine before."

Blight instinctively touched his chin with his left hand, surprised to find his left hand, which should have been blown to only bones, had regenerated.

He clenched his fist, feeling no discomfort at all.

"It was Hass, wasn’t it? He was there that year," Plum Blossom didn’t look at Blight but tilted her head to ask Woody.

"Indeed, of all the people from back then, he was one of the good ones," Woody nodded in agreement.

"Who are you? What are you talking about?" Blight tried to stand up, finding that all his wounds had miraculously healed.

"My real name is Melin." Plum Blossom said, "I’ve known your brother Woody for a long time. I am his sister, also known to the world as Crimson Plum Blossom."

Woody continued, "My memories have returned. My real name is Osk. Twenty years ago, my head was burned by lightwine, which left me a bit touched in the head."

Blight stood frozen, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of information.

"So... all those assassins have been repelled?"

"Not one survived. Jade-faced asura was killed by Osk," Plum Blossom added.

"Crimson Plum Blossom, you really are that infamous..."

"What? Don’t I seem like it?" Plum Blossom’s eyes suddenly sparkled captivatingly, and Blight found himself unable to resist, quickly averting his gaze.

"Alright, sister," Woody lifted Plum Blossom.

He said, "Big brother, let’s go somewhere quiet to talk. There’s too much to explain. Come with me for now."

"Okay." Blight followed Woody northward.

After a while, he remembered something and said to Woody, "Woody, I’ll still call you Woody, if that’s alright. I’m used to that name."

Woody responded, "Sure, big brother."