30 Years After Reincarnating, It Turns Out This World Was A Rofan?! novel Chapter 57

When reading wuxia novels, two major factions often appear: the Demonic Sect and the Northern Ice Palace. If you’ve read wuxia during your student days, you’d know that these two factions are typically depicted as extremely powerful, often to the point of repetition.

The reason why martial artists from the Northern Ice Palace and the Demonic Sect are frequently portrayed as the strongest is due to the sheer strength of their individual members. Living in harsh environments, fighting every day—it’s only natural they become strong. In this world, the Lionels are essentially the equivalent of the Northern Ice Palace and the Demonic Sect.

Fighting monstrous creatures in the barren, frozen wastelands every day, building their territory amidst snowstorms and icy mountains—how could they not be strong?

In addition, in such a fierce and unforgiving environment, the people are loyal only to the Lionels, a family that bears the bloodline of the winged lion. They swear absolute loyalty to this family, and in doing so, have built a territory and military force the size of a kingdom.

In reality, they possess the most powerful military and the largest territory among the kingdom’s forces.

They are the only faction where the contradictory principles of worshipping strength and absolute loyalty to the royal family coexist.

That’s why Ihan referred to them as the "Northern Demonic Sect."

‘In modern terms, it’s like they fully developed Siberia—and then took it a step further.’

With such power, the Lionels are formidable, even for Pendragon to handle. They remain one of the founding families of the kingdom only because of ancestral vows. They could declare independence at any time.

It’s said that half of Lionel’s military strength comes from a single order of knights.

The Northern Iron Lion Knights.

Alongside the White Silver Lion Knights, they are one of only two knightly orders in the kingdom allowed to use the lion insignia. However, society places the Black Iron Lions above the White Silver Lions. It’s natural to fear a predator ruling the frozen plains more than a tamed beast in a zoo.

"Are you from the Black Iron Lion Knights?"

"Maximus Iron de Lionel, Vice Commander of the Black Iron Lion Knights. You may call me Max. And you are?"

"You already know."

"I want to hear it from a warrior's lips."

"...Ihan Turtle."

"Very well, Lihan! I’ll remember it!"

"It’s Ihan, you bastard."

It had been a while since Ihan had heard someone mess with his name like that. He was sure Maximus did it on purpose.

Or maybe...

"More importantly, Lihan! Let’s fight! A battle to the death!"

"...This bastard."

It seemed this guy didn’t care about names—he was just a crazy battle maniac.

At some point, Ihan had been forcibly renamed to "Lihan," and he scowled. This was not someone you could have a normal conversation with. Was he from a tribe of battle-crazed warriors?

‘Now I understand why Baltar told me to stay away from northerners.’

Baltar had said:

"Even if you have to fight, don’t fight with northerners. It’s not that they’re particularly frightening, but getting involved with them won’t do your life any good."

That was spot on.

But Ihan felt wronged. He didn’t ask for this. How could he avoid getting entangled when this lunatic had barged in on his own?

"Ah, my luck."

After all the recent bloodshed, Ihan wanted to avoid any more fighting for a while.

"Don’t regret this later."

Swoosh!

Ihan drew the small dagger he had lying nearby. Compared to the massive battle axe that Maximus held, it looked like a toy. Someone might think, "What could he possibly do with that?" But Max, standing before him, didn’t underestimate him in the slightest.

In fact, he was excited.

‘Good! This isn’t just thrilling—it’s giving me chills!’

His excitement only grew.

As expected, his instincts were right. Ihan’s presence wasn’t that of a human but of a large beast. Max was thrilled. Who would have thought he’d find a warrior worthy of his reputation in the peaceful capital?

‘If I defeat this man, my soul will be one step closer to Avalon!’

Max’s anticipation surged, and Ihan’s aura grew even colder. Realizing that his opponent wasn’t just any madman, Ihan abandoned any thoughts of holding back. This wasn’t going to be a light sparring match—it was a fight to the death.

Just as Ihan and Maximus were about to collide—

Smack!

"Guh!?"

"Thunderhead, didn’t I tell you to behave? When did I ever say you could go around causing trouble?"

“...B-brother."

"You brat."

Whack! Whack!

“S-stop! Please stop hitting me, brother! It hurts!”

“I’m hitting you because it hurts. Should I hit you to make you feel better instead?"

Ugh!

And just like that, the tension between them disappeared.

Despite his massive size, Maximus was getting beaten by a man much smaller than him. It was like watching a dog cower before its master. There was no dignity in the sight—it was utterly pathetic.

But Ihan...

‘...Who is this man?’

Ihan didn’t even have the energy to mock the gorilla-like Maximus. Instinctively, he stepped back, preparing his legs and calves for a quick retreat.

He was ready to flee at any moment.

But this time, it wasn’t for an attack—just to run. There was no shame in it.

Victory or defeat didn’t matter to Ihan.

Survival was his top priority.

No matter what others called him—a coward or not—Ihan’s goal was to live a long and happy life. If that meant fleeing from an unwinnable fight, so be it.

"There's no need to worry. I have no intention of killing you."

"Then could you get rid of that spike aimed at my neck?"

"Ah, right. My apologies. It wasn’t my intention to frighten you."

"...Ha."

Ihan couldn’t help but laugh dryly.

Drip.

When had it happened? Blood was dripping from his side and the back of his neck. It felt like a finely sharpened ice pick had pierced his skin.

His skin—normally tough as bulletproof armor—had been cut through like tofu.

It had been a near-death experience.

But did you know?

Maximus truly hadn’t intended to kill him. That’s why Ihan was still alive.

‘Hah, if people call me a monster, what the hell would they call this guy?’

Ihan realized that this—this man—was what a real monster looked like.

Magnus Julian de Lionel.

The great northern duke stood before him.

Inside the building, there was an eerie silence.

Normally, you’d expect to see passing guards, teachers, or even sneaking students, but today, there was nothing. Not even an ant could be seen.

Ihan understood why no one dared approach this place.

‘Something like that is here.’

[━━.]

"Calm down and go back. No matter how eager you are to test someone, you mustn’t threaten them."

[━━.]

"Sigh, I’ll offer plenty of sacrifices later. Now, please return."

[━━.]

"I promise."

Magnus was speaking to something in the air. Anyone witnessing the scene would have thought he was insane, but Ihan knew better. He had been threatened by that very presence.

‘There’s something massive here.’

Ihan focused his senses on the empty space Magnus was addressing. And then, in that moment—

[━━?]

Gasp!

Ihan finally saw it. Or rather...

‘A lion?’

Their gazes locked.

It was more instinct than a clear sight, a sharp intuition.

Behind Magnus stood a massive creature, the size of an elephant, with a thick mane. Its legs were muscular, its claws thicker than Ihan’s waist, and its fangs were enormous—reminiscent of a saber-toothed cat. But no, it wasn’t a saber-tooth; it was definitely a lion.

‘Even without Aura users, as long as monsters like that exist, they’ll be fine.’

How could any human resist that?