Chapter 26
Chapter 26
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: The Clan's Secret Place (1)
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Swordsman Jonghyeon stared at Jin Guang with flustered eyes.
Jin Guang wasn't looking at him—he had his gaze fixed on Murong Bi. It was still that inscrutable expression, impossible to read.
Jonghyeon cautiously opened his mouth.
"Um... Squad Leader."
It was his way of asking what they should do about this situation.
More precisely, it was a plea to rein in that troublesome young master. No matter how infuriating or disliked he was, Murong Bi was still the clan's eldest son, wasn't he? And his martial prowess was downright abysmal.
A spar like this—with real swords, no less—was bound to be dangerous. Even members of the Flower Sword Squad avoided full-on duels with live blades, didn't they?
Jin Guang, who had been staring silently at Murong Bi, unexpectedly nodded.
"Squad members, clear some space."
Permission granted.
Gwan Hyeon gestured to the swordsmen, and in an instant, an open area was made for just the two of them.
Jonghyeon's face fell.
'Is this really okay?'
Even spars among Flower Sword Squad members with real swords came with set rules. One slip, and you could end up crippled for life.
And now they expected him to do something that risky with Murong Bi?
'If things go wrong...'
At that moment, Murong Bi spoke up with an irritated look on his face.
"Aren't you overthinking this a bit too much?"
"Pardon?"
"I proposed the spar, the squad leader gave the okay—so why are you so scared? Worried your sword might actually stab me or something?"
Yes.
Jonghyeon coughed awkwardly despite himself. He couldn't exactly admit that out loud.
Murong Bi grimaced and dug at his ear with his pinky finger.
He blew the earwax away with a puff and continued.
"Not a chance in hell I'll get nicked by that toothpick excuse for a sword of yours, so come at me with everything you've got."
"T-Toothpick?"
"If toothpick offends you, we can call it a broom bristle instead."
Even the most patient gentleman would struggle to hold back at that point.
Jonghyeon's expression hardened as he drew his sword.
"In that case, I'll learn a technique or two."
"Make it six or seven. What good's learning just one and cashing it in right away?"
Grit!
Jonghyeon ground his teeth.
He might not know much else, but that infuriating mouth of his rivaled the vicious taunts of a grand demonic master versed in the Dog Death Art.
"Haaap!"
His resonant shout echoed across the training grounds.
He dropped into a low stance, holding his sword at a slant. It was the starting form of the Murong Clan's foundational art, the Zongheng Sword.
Power surged properly through his posture. With a real sword in hand, it exuded undeniable intimidation to anyone watching.
Of course, not to Murong Bi.
"Why are you starting with your ass sticking out like that?"
"Eek!"
"What're you waiting for? You shouted your kiai—now charge!"
Jonghyeon kicked off the ground with explosive force.
Boom!
His charge was impressively swift.
Even without channeling internal energy, his speed was respectable. It spoke to well-honed lower-body training.
'Let's see just how impressive you really are!'
Jonghyeon swung his sword in a diagonal arc.
He aimed for the midsection—specifically, Jonghyeon's scabbard. He was furious enough, but he couldn't very well target the young master's torso right from the start.
Still, he figured it would be enough. Once the young master felt the power of a real blade, he'd flinch and back off in shock.
Jonghyeon's prediction went spectacularly wrong from the very first exchange.
Clang!
'Huh?'
He blinked in confusion.
What just happened? Why am I staring at the ground?
"Did this punk just let my words go in one ear and out the other?"
As Jonghyeon lifted his head, Murong Bi's fierce glare pierced into him.
Jonghyeon flinched involuntarily.
With the sun at his back, Murong Bi loomed over him, his eyes as eerie as those of a ghost.
"I told you to come at me properly. A spar's still a contest of victory—so how's a supposed warrior swinging his sword with such half-hearted effort?"
Against me, of all people?
"Do it again!"
Was it because he hadn't focused on the Brain Gate Heart Technique?
Whummm.
The air around them vibrated.
Murong Bi's shout carried a terrifying fury. He wasn't actually that angry, but the emotion radiating from his voice was savage enough to wither a blooming field of flowers.
Startled, Jonghyeon stumbled back and gulped.
'W-What the hell?'
His heart pounded rapidly.
His cluttered mind went blank. The moment he heard that shout, chills ran down his spine, and tension locked his shoulders.
And it wasn't just him.
The watching swordsmen all swallowed dryly as well.
An enraged Murong Bi's voice held the power to shake souls. It wasn't solely due to the Brain Gate Heart Technique. The voice of the man who had lived through history's most tumultuous era as Martial Alliance Leader carried an unmistakable dignity and heroism that couldn't be concealed.
And one more thing.
'What was that?!'
The swordsmen glanced furtively at one another.
'Why'd Jonghyeon go down?'
He had struck the diagonal sword swing with his scabbard.
Not shying from a real blade and countering with his scabbard was impressive enough on its own, but what was truly shocking was how one blow from that scabbard sent Jonghyeon's upper body crashing to the ground.
It was downright bizarre. There hadn't seemed to be any real force behind it, yet a sturdy build like Jonghyeon's crumpled like they'd rehearsed it beforehand.
"No clue."
A few swordsmen turned to Gwan Hyeon.
He muttered just loud enough to be heard.
"Felt like he struck the flat of the blade instead of the edge... Is that even possible?"
His voice brimmed with curiosity and intrigue.
The swordsmen turned their attention back to Murong Bi and Jonghyeon.
"Huff... huff..."
Jonghyeon's breathing grew ragged bit by bit.
He'd only attacked once, nearly fallen for a moment, and retreated—yet his breath refused to steady.
'What's going on? Why's my body acting like this?'
Overthinking crept back in.
But one look into Murong Bi's eyes blanked his mind again.
Strength flooded his sword grip, while his waist and legs stiffened up.
'I have to attack!'
With an even more cautious expression, Jonghyeon stepped forward. Unlike before, the resolve to attack with full sincerity drove him.
Whoosh!
The wind brushing past his body felt heavier than usual today.
Jonghyeon swung his sword with full power. It was a simple vertical chop from the Zongheng Sword—from high to low.
Simple meant fast, and easy to load with power.
A strike far swifter and more ferocious than the last.
"Urk!"
The watching swordsmen gasped in surprise.
Murong Bi, looking utterly bored, swung his scabbard from upper-left to lower-right.
Clang!
Jonghyeon's upper body bent diagonally, following the sword's path.
"Guh!"
"Again."
Jonghyeon gritted his teeth and swung from upper-right. A variation on the vertical chop.
But...
Claaang!
"Keuk!"
His weight shifted rightward once more, leaving him staggering awkwardly.
He'd nearly dropped to one knee. It felt like a giant's club had swept across his entire upper body.
'W-What is this?'
Snap!
"Keuk!"
Jonghyeon clutched his head and staggered back.
Murong Bi clicked his tongue and flicked his scabbard.
"Why're you sitting there dazed? If that'd been the blade instead of the scabbard, your skull would've split in two."
"......!"
"You still don't seem focused. Let's see if you can block mine."
Murong Bi kicked off the ground.
Without internal energy, his charge looked a touch slower than Jonghyeon's.
But the scabbard's motion was something else entirely.
Kaaang!
"Hauk!"
Blocking the downward strike sent a force rippling through his entire upper body from the real sword. An unbelievably heavy blow.
As Jonghyeon faltered in shock, Murong Bi swept the scabbard horizontally.
It wasn't even particularly fast, but he couldn't dodge. The lingering shock pinned his upper body.
In the end, Jonghyeon had no choice but to raise his sword and block again.
Kaaaang!
"Kroo!"
His wrists screamed in agony, as if they might snap.
And that wasn't all. That simple strike shoved him sideways two full steps.
Jonghyeon could scarcely believe it.
'H-How can it carry this much weight?!'
Not even a starving beggar would be skinnier than Murong Bi. You wouldn't find a frame that gaunt if you scoured a slum.
Yet the power from that scrawny body was monstrous. It felt like the full-force swing of someone who'd trained external arts their entire life.
"Just blocking won't cut it."
A weighty voice followed, along with a scabbard that somehow felt three times heavier as it dropped straight down.
"Block it while watching properly."
Screeeee!
The scabbard slicing through the air resembled a boulder caught in a landslide.
In that instant, Jonghyeon's eyes flashed wide.
'Huh?'
Kaaaang! Thud!
His vision sparked white.
Jonghyeon realized his right knee had slammed into the ground. But that hardly mattered.
'What was that?'
A vertically falling scabbard.
Nothing but a straight line—yet its motion felt impossibly beautiful.
'Why on earth?'
Then the scabbard moved again.
After up-down verticals came left-right horizontals. Murong Bi adhered strictly to the sequence.
Kaaaaang!
The most ferocious clang yet.
The swordsmen jumped in shock.
'No way!'
The sword blade that had blocked the scabbard was badly nicked.
These were real swords made for training, with edges deliberately dulled. They could cut, but not easily.
Even so, they remained plenty threatening—and the added weight made them ideal for powerful strikes, while the blades themselves were sturdy.
Yet those sturdy blades were chipping away with every block against a mere wooden scabbard.
Undeterred by their shock, Murong Bi swung again.
Up-down verticals, left-right horizontals.
The scabbard tracing perfect crosses moved with eerie precision, utterly devoid of even the slightest wobble.
Kang! Kaaang! Kaaaang!
Jonghyeon's body swayed like a candle flame in the wind.
He seemed to struggle more with each successive block. In truth, his body was drenched in cold sweat.
And they'd barely passed a dozen exchanges.
Kaaaaang!
"Krack!"
A scream finally tore from Jonghyeon's lips.
In that moment, Murong Bi thrust his scabbard forward like a shot.
Thud!
Perfectly striking Jonghyeon's sternum, he went rolling across the training ground.
"Keurgh...!"
He seemed unable to draw a proper breath. Grimacing with his mouth agape, he clearly wouldn't be standing anytime soon.
"Pathetic doesn't even begin to cover it."
Ching!
Murong Bi sheathed the sword still stabbed into the ground and tossed it to Gwan Hyeon.
Gwan Hyeon's face wore a terribly complicated expression.
"That's why you can't block downward strikes—with your ass sticking out like that. Your upper and lower body aren't connected as one."
Of course, that wasn't the whole story.
"Your straight thrusts waver because your shoulders are too tense, which naturally reduces wrist flexibility. Forcing strength into your wrist in that state damages the joints against the weapon's flex. That's Basics 101."
He was speaking to Jonghyeon, but in truth, it was a lesson for everyone.
"Your stance is off too. Swords excel at thrusting over slashing. They demand even less shake than thrusts and absolute flexibility for explosive power. But you lot tense up and chase speed alone."
"......"
"Accuracy comes before speed, and flexible muscles are key to accuracy. If building stamina alone sharpened your swordsmanship, then whoever had the most internal energy would automatically be the world's best—right?"
Murong Bi turned to Gwan Hyeon.
"Isn't that so?"
"......It does seem that way."
Gwan Hyeon's face was filled with astonishment.
The other swordsmen might not grasp it, but he did. He understood the brilliance of the sword forms Murong Bi had employed.
Murong Bi let out a deep sigh and looked toward Jin Guang.
Jin Guang's face remained impassive. But his eyes trembled ever so slightly.
Murong Bi asked with a sullen expression.
"At this level, they couldn't catch a wild boar if one charged in, right? So what does the squad leader make of these results?"