It's Not a Nose Guard—It's a Crossguard (1)
After my spar with Mu-gwang, the sword-obsessed maniac, my standing changed. A little. No, a lot. From “pitiful foreigner washed ashore” to “skilled foreign swordsman.”
If the place that had saved me had been a proper martial family instead of the Hainan Sword Sect, I would have graduated from freeloader to honored guest by now. Ah, honored guest. There was no sweeter position for sucking up benefits. Treated with respect as a high-level expert, swinging a blade only when truly needed, and training in comfort—it was a pure honey pot.
Of course, in a martial family you ran the risk of getting dragged into some blood feud and dying a dog’s death. The Namgung clan gets completely wrecked around the middle of this novel, after all…
Wait, why did they get wrecked again?
To be honest, there were so many wuxia stories with similar worlds that I kept getting them mixed up. In one, the Heavenly Demon was pretending to be the Namgung young master. In another he was a spy for the Blood Cult. In yet another he built the Wuxia Alliance and pulled strings from the shadows. And in some he was actually righteous, which was exactly why he got crushed.
Still, they all had one thing in common. True to their pride as the greatest sword clan under the heavens, the Namgung family served as the murim world’s favorite punching bag. Dragged out like dogs and beaten simply for being the most famous and successful—that was their role. Either them or the Hebei Peng family or the sneaky Sichuan Tang clan next door.
“Uncle! What are you thinking about?”
“Just that the world really is a mess.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Ah, she caught me.
I turned my gaze to Mu-gwang, who had already fainted more than ten times. He brushed the dust off his clothes with his hands and immediately approached me, eyes shining.
“That was another magnificent display of martial arts! So, one more round—”
“That’s enough for today.”
“But there’s still time before dinner—”
“Do you really think your skills will improve if you just keep sparring like this? Sometimes it’s important to rest your body and review what happened in the duel. Nothing is more valuable than reflecting on your own mistakes.”
“I-I see!”
His face said he had never once considered the idea.
Wait, isn’t this basic knowledge in wuxia? Or maybe the author was a complete rookie who had never written the genre before and simply never included the concept…?
The sudden doubt made me tilt my head.
“Then just one more time—”
This guy was the problem.
I finally concluded that Mu-gwang wasn’t obsessed with swords themselves, but with the act of crossing blades. Sigh. This was exactly why duel addicts were dangerous. The man was basically a Roman gladiator.
Pax Romana? Fox Romana? Whatever. The guys who gathered every combat technique from the Colosseum’s golden age and trained like mad had been exactly like him. At least they weren’t selfish like the Pythagorean fanatics. On the contrary, they were desperate to spread their knowledge.
The man who taught me gladiatorial arts once said their doctrine was simple: “If your opponent learns the techniques, they will discover the weaknesses. Then we can practice the counters to those counters.”
Still, the gladiatorial skills they had taught me had proven useful in all sorts of ways.
“Sir William?”
“Sir? Just go rest already.”
I had spaced out thinking about the past. I waved Mu-gwang away. In the end he couldn’t resist my order to leave and trudged off with slumped shoulders.
“Haa.” Just seeing his back was enough to make me sigh now. How was he like this? Applying for a spar every single day—no, every single hour?
He hadn’t won once. Wasn’t it about time he gave up? His obsession with the sword was on another level.
“Uncle! Good work!”
“Aren’t you going to train?”
“But just watching you and Brother Mu-gwang spar is already helpful!”
“Is that so.”
Thankfully, the quick-witted Hye-ryeong didn’t suggest we spar. That was an enormous relief for me.
She was far more difficult to deal with than Mu-gwang.
Precisely speaking, it was troublesome.
Martial arts required vigorous movement, yet Hye-ryeong walked around carrying two massive lumps of pride that made me question whether sword training was even possible for her.
When I sparred with Hye-ryeong, I had to stare directly at those lumps of pride.
Reading an opponent’s movements was crucial in combat. You couldn’t afford to look away. Not even when every swing of her sword made those proud mounds bounce dynamically.
As a knight, openly staring at a lady’s chest was an enormous breach of etiquette. But she wasn’t wearing loose robes—she was in clothes that fit just tightly enough that there was literally nowhere else to look.
I wasn’t a blind swordsman; I couldn’t swing a blade with my eyes closed.
Before my gaze could drift back to Hye-ryeong’s lumps of pride, I closed my eyes and clasped my hands over my chest.
“…Dear God.”
“Uncle?”
“It’s nothing. I just suddenly felt like praying. You know how monks suddenly chant ‘Amitabha’ or Taoists cry out ‘Primordial Heavenly Venerable.’”
“They do?”
“Just think of it that way and don’t worry about it.”
Fortunately, Hye-ryeong only tilted her head and didn’t press further.
After finishing a prayer that held neither faith nor proper form, I picked up the wooden sword I had set on the ground. The grip was soaked with sweat and felt clammy.
A thought suddenly occurred to me, and I slowly examined the wooden sword.
It was old and battered, chipped in several places with cracks running through the crossguard. It was time to retire it.
I had kept using it despite my freeloading status, but the moment had come. If it broke in the middle of a spar, it would be a huge headache.
And since I was replacing it anyway, I might as well get a real steel sword.
Unless I somehow monopolized every fortuitous encounter and became an absolute master capable of smashing the Heavenly Demon with a wooden sword, acquiring a proper blade was top priority.
I had tried making do with the iron swords used by the Hainan Sword Sect, but they simply didn’t suit me. The grip was too short, the crossguard too small, and worst of all, the blade was too short.
Unlike a longsword that measured around five feet (roughly 150 centimeters), the swords here were at most four and a half cheok—about 135 centimeters. Most of the blades used by the Hainan Sword Sect were around three cheok, making them unusable for me in real combat.
The core of longsword technique lay in close-quarters combat using the large crossguard and controlling distance with the weapon’s long reach.
I needed a sword with sufficient length and a proper crossguard, even if it wasn’t quite longsword size.
And fortunately, according to Hye-ryeong, the Hainan Sword Sect maintained its own forge and personally raised blacksmiths within the sect. It was far more efficient when you had to produce and maintain weapons for hundreds of disciples.
Having formed a simple plan in my head, I spoke to Hye-ryeong, who had been humming a tune beside me.
“Hye-ryeong. You mentioned there’s a forge inside the Hainan Sword Sect, right?”
“Yes! It’s run by a craftsman whose skill the sect is very proud of!”
“Can you take me there now? I’d like to commission a sword—”
“Right now?”
“Yes. I need to get a proper weapon made, so…”
Hye-ryeong’s face clouded with difficulty. Was something wrong at the forge?
“Elder Baek-cheol has probably left the sect by now.”
“What? Really?”
“Elder Baek-cheol always returns home on his ten-day break!”
The unexpected news made me rub my forehead.
Huh. Of all times.
It was disappointing in more ways than one. A disaster was creeping closer without a sound, so I wanted to obtain a sword as quickly as possible and begin adapting to it.
I clearly remembered the line that on the day Hye-ryeong turned twenty, she lost her entire family.
“His house is outside the sect?”
“Elder Baek-cheol says that if his workplace and home are too close, the burden doubles, so he built a house outside! It’s not that far, though! He just doesn’t like it when disciples visit him at home.”
I nodded at her explanation.
Makes sense. Who would want to bring work all the way home?
Especially if some guest showed up on his day off demanding he work… It would be nothing but annoyance.
“Then I suppose I have no choice but to wait until the day after tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry! The moment Elder Baek-cheol returns, I’ll tell him right away!”
“Good. Thank you.”
It really was fortunate that Hye-ryeong was here.
I smiled back at her as she stood with hands on her hips, chest proudly thrust forward, grinning as usual.
Then today I would wash up, have dinner, and—
“Hye-ryeong Sajeoooooo!”
“Young-jin Sajae?”
What now?
Hye-ryeong and I watched a small boy running toward us from far away, panting heavily.
The boy finally reached us, stopped, placed both hands on his knees, and gasped for air.
“Hye-Hye-ryeong Saje…”
“What’s the matter?”
The boy named Young-jin finally caught his breath enough to blurt out why he had come running.
“Wokou! The wokou have landed on the western shore! The sect leader has ordered all disciples to prepare for deployment!”
“The western shore? Then what about Elder Baek-cheol?!”
“The elder is still there…”
Pirates… Pirates, huh.
It was a little shameful to admit, but jackpot.
“Uncle! I’m sorry, but you should stay—”
“No. I’m coming too.”
Time to earn some money… or rather, time to loosen up these muscles a bit.
I headed toward the training ground where the disciples were gathering, walking alongside Hye-ryeong.