Flawless Sword Energy
He had intended to stop at leaving a few superficial scrapes, but the boy had completely crossed the line. Namgung Geol’s eyes rolled back in blind fury as internal energy surged explosively through his meridians.
"Know when to quit," Yun remarked casually. "Push any harder, and you'll end up breaking yourself."
"Shut your mouth!"
Geol charged toward Namgung Yun at full tilt.
What a temper, Yun mused. He had offered sincere advice out of kindness, not that he had expected the hothead to listen. Well then, how should I discipline him?
He briefly considered covering Geol’s entire body in black-and-blue bruises, just as the original Namgung Yun had suffered not long ago, but he quickly dismissed the thought.
That would make it look like I'm venting petty spite. I’ll stick to the initial plan: give him a proper thrashing and knock him cold.
Since Geol was one of the scoundrels who had relentlessly tormented the former owner of this body, Yun had toyed with the idea of putting some genuine feeling into his blows. But when he thought about it, that abuse was something the original Yun had endured, not him. He decided to settle for making enough of an impression that none of these brats would ever dare look down on him again.
Still, my hands aren't known for being gentle.
Truthfully, the boy would have been far better off losing consciousness from that very first blow. Since Plan A—‘The Fool Who Rushed In and Got Knocked Out Cold in One Strike’—had fallen through, Yun had no choice but to execute Plan B: ‘The Idiot Who Took a One-Sided Beating.’
The pain and humiliation that came with the latter would far outstrip the former.
Actually, this is better. Come to think of it, if the first plan had worked, he might’ve thrown a tantrum claiming he was caught off guard.
If a lesson was worth teaching, it was worth teaching thoroughly.
Besides, the way he spewed informal insults at me and glared like that was getting on my nerves.
A faint grin tugged at the corner of Yun’s mouth. This was actually getting a little amusing.
Namgung Geol’s assault was undeniably ferocious. His body, bolstered by internal energy, traced the trajectory of the Hyocheon Sword Art with blazing momentum.
Yet that was all it was.
His sword was far too predictable.
Fine art though the Hyocheon Sword Art was, it remained an entry-level style. Even to someone unfamiliar with the manual, its paths, variations, and intended strikes were as clear as day—and Yun happened to know the technique intimately.
Thwack!
"Guh!"
Yun’s scabbard slid like a serpent through the seam of Geol's tempestuous onslaught, striking his right arm. Naturally, Geol's blade went wild, and Yun stepped aside with the utmost economy of movement, letting the blow slice empty air.
From then on, history repeated itself over and over.
Thwack! Smack! Thwack! Crack!
A relentless staccato of blunt impacts echoed across the grounds. Without distinction of shoulder, rib, or thigh, Yun’s scabbard hammered away at Geol's frame.
The gulf in their abilities was glaringly obvious to anyone with eyes.
Impossible! This is impossible! Impossible, impossible!
Ignoring the throbbing agony tearing through his flesh and bone, Namgung Geol lunged again and again. The rage that had consumed him moments ago had vanished without a trace, swallowed whole by confusion, dismay, and creeping dread.
This can't be happening!
Whoosh!
He swung his blade in desperation. As if testifying to his innate talent and bitter training, the stroke carved a crisp, clean arc through the air. Yet once again, it found nothing.
Smack!
Instead, the scabbard struck his ribs with punishing precision.
"Haah! Haah...!"
Geol’s chest heaved. His throat was parched dry.
Is that bastard really stronger than me?
He couldn’t accept it. His pride, which had towered as high as the heavens, crumbled to dust, rattling the very foundations of his sanity.
Yet there was something far more terrifying than shattered pride.
If he’s truly stronger than me...
Memories of the past flashed before his eyes. All the cruelties he had inflicted on Namgung Yun: the vicious verbal abuse, the beatings, the relentless indignities. He had never felt an ounce of guilt, because in the Namgung Clan, might was right. He was strong, and Yun was weak.
But if Namgung Yun stood above him now, their positions were reversed.
Every cruelty he had ever dished out would be paid back in full.
No... anything but that!
Panic blossomed into overwhelming terror. He could not endure such a hopeless future.
I have to win right now! Whatever it takes!
Only that singular obsession remained in his frantic mind.
Namgung Geol gathered his inner qi, forcing it into circulation far beyond his capacity. Forcing raw energy through unrefined meridians put tremendous strain on his dantian and channels, but he no longer cared.
Tap!
He charged. A thin trickle of blood leaked from the corner of his lips—a sign of internal injury from overexertion. Yet the price paid yielded unmistakable power.
Vwooom!
Geol’s sword began to hum. A hazy, mist-like radiance coalesced along the length of the metal.
Sword Energy.
Though premature and lacking solid form, its lethal potency was not to be underestimated. For a youth of his age, manifesting it was an extraordinary feat—a stark display of why he was hailed as one of the Namgung Clan’s rising prodigies.
"Halt!" Namgung Hwan cried out in genuine panic.
A sparring match involving Sword Energy between youths of this generation was far too hazardous. Worse, with Hwan's own martial level, safely intervening in a clash where Sword Energy had been unleashed without someone getting maimed was nearly impossible.
Yet Namgung Geol did not stop. His ears were deaf to the outside world; his entire being was locked solely on Namgung Yun.
It looked as though Yun would be cleaved clean in two at any moment.
Right then, Namgung Yun moved.
Shifting the scabbard in his right hand to his left, he drew the practice sword and swung.
Crack!
A severed blade snapped and spun high into the sky.
Geol’s gaze instinctively followed the flying steel before dropping down to the hilt in his hand. His sword had been sheared in half—a clean, decisive break.
It was a blade reinforced by inner qi and cloaked in Sword Energy, incomplete though it had been. How could such a weapon be snapped like a dry twig?
His trembling eyes drifted to the blade that had broken it.
A radiant, pure aura coated Namgung Yun’s sword, shimmering with absolute composure and quiet dominance. No martial artist under heaven could fail to recognize it.
Sword Energy.
And unlike his own crude, unstable haze, this was complete, flawless Sword Energy.
Namgung Yun... using Sword Energy?
The sheer impossibility of the spectacle made his head spin. A hollow laugh threatened to bubble up past his dry lips.
Ah. I see.
He was losing to Namgung Yun? Having his sword shattered by Namgung Yun’s peerless Sword Energy?
It’s a nightmare.
He really needed to take a break from training and get some rest. Just how overworked was his body for his mind to conjure up such an absurd delusion?
Dazed, he stared at Yun’s scabbard arcing toward his temple.
I need to wake up...
That was his final thought.
Crack!
This time, total darkness consumed Namgung Geol’s consciousness.
Thud!
Namgung Geol collapsed in a heap. Almost simultaneously, the broken tip of his blade struck the dirt nearby. Namgung Hwan rushed forward in a frenzy to check the boy’s condition.
"A little bed rest and he'll be fine," Yun said impassively.
The places he had struck were nothing more than surface bruises that would heal on their own without special treatment. The internal damage Geol had inflicted upon himself by forcing his qi was far more severe, but even that would mend with proper medicine and recuperation.
Sheathing his sword, Yun casually glanced around.
The other disciples stood petrified, their lips tightly sealed as their eyes darted back and forth between him and the unconscious Geol. The tremors in their pupils told the whole story. The sickening contempt they had worn earlier had vanished into thin air.
Well, none of these little shits will dare pick a fight with me now.
Their strongest peer, Geol, had been thoroughly battered without mounting a shred of resistance before dropping like a stone. They would certainly have realized by now that they were nowhere near Yun’s league.
Though, if someone still has the guts to challenge me, that’s fine too.
Anyone harboring that kind of venomous grit was bound to make something of himself eventually. Yun might even have been inclined to impart a pointer or two to someone like that.
Of course, not a single one among them showed the slightest sign of stepping up.
"Take Geol to the infirmary at once!"
At Hwan’s shout, two boys he singled out hurried forward, hoisted Geol between them, and carried him away from the training ground.
Hwan turned toward Yun, his gaze an unreadable tangle of shock and wariness. Slowly, he opened his mouth.
"Was that... Sword Energy?"
"What else would it look like?"
Even Yun knew his answer was rather insolent, but Hwan seemed too profoundly shaken by the duel to take offense.
"Since when have you been able to manifest Sword Energy?"
Yun simply shrugged. "Isn’t it weirder that someone my age couldn't manifest it until now?"
With the substantial foundation of inner energy the original Yun had accumulated, paired with the transcendent comprehension of the Heavenly Demon, coaxing out Sword Energy was as effortless as breathing.
Well, that's true, but...
Still, Hwan couldn't easily digest it. After all, wasn't Yun’s inability to manifest Sword Energy the very reason he had been treated like garbage and ostracized all this time?
"...In any case, congratulations," Hwan said after a long pause. "At long last, you finally look like a true scion of the Great Namgung Clan."
"Yeah, thanks."
Hwan called an end to the bout, and the gathered disciples dispersed to their respective positions. Yun lifted his training sword once more.
Dozens of gazes prickled against his skin as the youths stole nervous glances at him, and Hwan's eyes lingered among them as well.
In other words, nothing worth paying attention to.
Yun resumed his forms without missing a beat.
News that Namgung Yun had bested Namgung Geol spread through the clan like wildfire. That the famously pathetic Namgung Yun had brought down one of the clan's brightest prospects was certainly juicy gossip.
Yet that alone was not enough to dramatically overturn the clan’s low opinion of him.
"At his age, producing Sword Energy should be a matter of course."
"The boy's talent was never the issue—it was his rotten mindset. Word is he changed after taking a beating from In. A delinquent like him needed rough handling to shape up. If he’s finally come to his senses, all the better."
"All he did was beat a cousin far younger than himself. And knocking In unconscious before was clearly just a lucky ambush. I only hope he doesn’t grow too big for his boots."
"He seems to have changed a bit, but who knows? Can a dog really stop eating filth overnight?"
Though degrees varied, the clan’s sentiment toward Yun remained cold and uncharitable. In the end, they arrived at a single unanimous verdict:
"The boy has to fix that rotten attitude of his first!"
Conversely, the clan’s estimation of Namgung Geol soared even higher.
"Did you hear? The boy has already begun to manifest Sword Energy!"
"Though it had no solid form and he suffered internal backlash, achieving that at his age is nothing short of brilliant."
"With Geol leading his generation and In leading the one above, the future of our Namgung Clan is secure."
"Make sure to comfort Geol so he doesn't lose heart over this sparring match. That child is the future of Namgung."
Even so, the sparring match had undeniably confirmed that Yun's martial prowess far exceeded anyone's expectations.
Upon hearing the reports, the Clan Head issued an order.
"Bestow upon him the clan's next martial arts manual. Furthermore, I grant him permission to cultivate in the Intermediate Training Ground."
That was the training ground where Yun's true peers cultivated—a cohort that included none other than Namgung In.
Few people enjoyed noisy commotions. Those who stirred up trouble were often met with cold disdain, and if it happened often enough, they were branded as irredeemable hooligans whom no decent person would associate with.
Yet there were times when making a scene was entirely necessary.
Best decision I've made so far.
Ever since he beat Namgung Geol into the dirt, not a single soul had picked a fight with him. Far from it—terrified of retribution, the other youths avoided him like the plague.
For Yun, this arrangement was exceedingly comfortable.
Free of distractions, he focused on hammering his profound comprehension into the physical vessel of this body.
That duel was a nuisance, honestly.
His flesh had not yet caught up to his mind, forcing him to expend twice the mental effort to bridge the gap. What should have been movements as natural as breathing had to be forcefully commanded. Naturally, the strikes lacked true potency, and his limbs felt stiff and creaky.
As a martial artist, leaving his body in such a state was utterly intolerable.
Fortunately, assimilating supreme martial enlightenment into physical form was something he had done countless times in his past life as the Heavenly Demon. In just a few short days, he had managed to reach a level where his body could channel his understanding without glaring friction.
Still, full synchronization will take a bit more time.
He was just preparing to head to the training ground when an unfamiliar servant approached and bowed deeply.
"Greetings, Young Master."
"I have brought orders from the Clan Head."
The Clan Head of the Namgung Clan... Yun harbored very little affection or respect for the man.
In fact, the entire incident with Namgung Geol had solidified one unmistakable truth in Yun's mind:
The Namgung Clan is not the righteous faction I once knew.