The Future Enshrined in the Sword (2)
There was no formal greeting, not even a word to signal the beginning.
Chaaang!
The sequence of drawing the sword, extending the arm, and delivering the strike flowed as naturally as water. A splendid single slash—and the Mad Dragon Axe that blocked it trembled faintly. The swift, vigorous strike carried undeniable weight, sharp enough that most masters would have found it impossible to defend.
But Yeon Hojeong was no ordinary master.
His skill already surpassed the heads of great sects; he stood at the very threshold of the Mugeuk realm, the domain of the Martial God.
Chaaang!
Jeong-an’s eyes wavered. Heavy! If she had not deflected the blow even slightly, her wrist, elbow, and shoulder would have dislocated in succession—she felt the certainty of it. This is no joke!
She had expected him to block her first strike without difficulty. After all, it had been little more than a greeting, delivered without ceremony. Yet her opponent seemed to regard even that as unnecessary formality. The moment he deflected her blade, he swung the axe in a crushing counter, its power beyond imagination.
Hwa-un, watching from afar, also hardened her gaze at Yeon Hojeong’s ferocious attack.
Whoosh!
Jeong-an, who had retreated with composure, charged at him once more. She had sensed his intent in that strike: Do not come at me half-heartedly. Show me everything you have. And beneath it, an absolute confidence that she would still not surpass him.
Her sword flashed like lightning.
Boom!
The straight thrust transformed in an instant, accompanied by a thunderous roar and dazzling motion. Dozens, then hundreds of sword shadows bloomed in the air. The range they covered was immense—a prison of blades encircling the entire courtyard, all aimed at Yeon Hojeong with lethal sharpness.
In just two exchanges, Jeong-an had unleashed her ultimate technique: Man-hwa-jeong-geom-gyeol, the Three Great Absolute Sword Arts of Botam.
Whoosh!
Yeon Hojeong, who had stood like an immovable tree, suddenly moved at terrifying speed. His target was Jeong-an. Her sword domain already surrounded him from every direction. This was no time to retreat—it was time to break through head-on.
Jeong-an’s eyes gleamed.
Shraaaak!
Hundreds of sword shadows converged, targeting the axe, his head, and his shoulders. Yeon Hojeong swung the Mad Dragon Axe with full force.
Clangclangclangclang!
The metallic impacts rang out like a colossal bell shattering into pieces. Jeong-an’s eyes trembled. He blocked it.
Man-hwa-jeong-geom-gyeol consisted of only three forms, yet each contained the very essence of the sword. Once unleashed, they guaranteed victory; mastery of the art would make one a grandmaster of the blade, second to none.
The form she had just used was the first: Il-geom-man-hwa-gyeong.
How is this possible? He deflected every shadow of the Man-hwa-gyeong with that heavy axe?!
She knew he could wield the axe as lightly as a switch—she had seen it. But an axe was still an axe. Judging by the weight she felt in each collision, it had to be seventy or eighty catties at least. Yet he swung it at a speed comparable to her own.
It defied reason. The world operated on logic and common sense: heavy things could not be fast, and fast things could not be heavy. If such a thing were possible, there would have been no need to classify swords as heavy or swift in the first place.
In other words, her opponent was a grandmaster who had shattered ordinary logic and forged his own path in the martial arts. This is no mere sparring match! I must crush him with absolute resolve!
Whooooosh!
With a chilling sound, the Mad Dragon Axe cleaved through the air. Had she not leapt desperately, either her sword or her body would have been split in two. That single move told her he was holding nothing back.
Flash!
Jeong-an’s eyes blazed. Soaring into the air, she immediately unleashed the second form of Man-hwa-jeong-geom-gyeol: Seong-geom-man-da-ra.
Whoosh!
Yeon Hojeong’s gaze deepened. Sword pressure erupted from a single point in the air, forming geometric patterns that rained down upon him. Impressive, he thought, unable to suppress his admiration. Such a technique exists!
This was no mere flashy sword art. It was illusion and dispersion, transformation and discernment—an art that encompassed every possible direction a sword could move. It could attack or defend, its purpose shifting instantly according to the wielder’s will. It was swordsmanship worthy of discussing the heavens, a profound enlightenment that liberated the sword’s potential through its own path, radiating absolute power.
Whiiiiiiing!
A white gale suddenly wrapped around Yeon Hojeong’s body—he had invoked the White Tiger Art of Sasinmu. The two martial arts collided head-on.
Rumble!
With a terrifying explosion, the weeds and stones on the ground were pulverized and scattered. Jeong-an’s eyes widened to the point of tearing. Shattered?! The mandala of blades that had poured down like a storm was being torn apart by the fangs of a beast cloaked in white wind. How?! He broke Seong-geom-man-da-ra head-on?!
She had not expected Yeon Hojeong to die or be injured by the technique. But she had been certain he would either dodge or defend, saving his counterattack for later. Instead, he had attacked immediately, shattering the heart of the mandala without evading or blocking—even though she struck from above while he struck from below.
Jeong-an’s sword moved again.
Shraaaak!
The shattered mandala reformed, drawing a new pattern. Yeon Hojeong’s eyes flashed. Different? No—it was the same form. He could tell from the nature of the sword qi and the flow of inner energy. Yet the shape had changed. Just as each mandala painting was unique, the form Jeong-an had just executed was clearly different from the first. The first mandala was a pressure of qi; this one is a tangible attack.
A single form could be transformed into dozens. Not through situational adaptation, but through the wielder’s will altering the very power of the technique itself. As expected. It was in no way inferior to the Yeon family’s sword arts. In fact, considering the diversity of its paths and the sword force it contained, it could even be said to surpass them. The Yeon family’s swordsmanship demands absolute discipline from the swordsman. But Botam’s sword is different. The art itself is so exceptional that anyone who learns it cannot help but grow strong.
Yeon Hojeong’s lips curved upward. The sheer strength of the technique, backed by a Sword Queen who has refined it to its limit—Botam is not an opponent anyone can easily provoke. In that fleeting moment, he had completely grasped the essence of Botam’s sword.
Whoosh!
A jade-green haze tinged the white wind and settled around Yeon Hojeong’s legs. Dozens of sword shadows grazed past his collar. Under normal circumstances, he should have been trapped in the prison of blades, rendered completely helpless. Yet he slipped through the formation with unnatural ease.
In that moment of astonishment, shock etched itself across Jeong-an’s face.
Whooooosh!
Yeon Hojeong’s movement was completely different from before. The beastly motion that seemed capable of tearing apart any attack or defense had transformed into a divine dragon ascending a waterfall—the Azure Dragon Art. The Cheongryong-dap-un-bo of the Azure Dragon Art effortlessly pierced through Seong-geom-man-da-ra.
And that was not all.
While the White Tiger specialized in offense, the Vermilion Bird in lethal strikes, and the Black Tortoise in defense, the Azure Dragon handled both evasion and counterattack—unlike the other three divine techniques, which focused on a single domain. The miraculous footwork of Cheongryong-dap-un-bo perfectly evaded the mandala’s assault, but it did not stop at mere evasion.
Counterattack.
Yeon Hojeong’s Mad Dragon Axe unleashed the Yong-gun-sam-hyeong of the Azure Dragon Art.
Clangclangclangclang!
“Kugh!”
Caught off guard by the sharp chain of strikes exploding right before her eyes, Jeong-an let out an involuntary groan. I can’t match this! She had no idea when he had closed the distance so drastically.
Boom!
Jeong-an quickly descended to the ground. The air had been the ideal position to unleash Seong-geom-man-da-ra, but against an opponent who had not only evaded it but also countered, it was nothing but a disadvantage. In that case… She had come this far. Regardless of the outcome she anticipated, she had intended to use only the second form of Man-hwa-jeong-geom-gyeol. She had never planned to bring out the final third form.
But now that the match had reached this point, she had no choice. At her current level, neither Il-geom-man-hwa-gyeong nor Seong-geom-man-da-ra could pressure him.
Whoosh!
Jeong-an lowered her stance noticeably. She drew her sword back, extended the index and middle fingers of her left hand forward, and prepared to unleash the final third form of Man-hwa-jeong-geom-gyeol. This third form—even you will not be able to—!
At that moment—
Flash!
Jeong-an’s eyes shook violently. Before she could even execute the third form, her opponent had already reached her. What—?! It was an absurd speed. How could a human move so fast? He had arrived before she even registered the movement. And despite moving at such velocity, she had felt no disturbance in the air at all.
A movement that transcended the limits of speed—crimson energy blazed from his body like flames. It was the moment Jeong-an was most shocked during this entire sparring match.
Yeon Hojeong’s fist struck like lightning. Jeong-an squeezed her eyes shut instinctively—she could neither attack, defend, nor evade.
Boom! Crash!
With a tremendous explosion, a deep furrow was carved into the ground behind Jeong-an. Her bamboo hat, torn to shreds, fluttered weakly to the ground. Her tightly bound hair came undone and swayed freely.
Jeong-an slowly opened her eyes. A solid fist had stopped just half an inch from her nose.
“Hmm.”
Yeon Hojeong withdrew his fist and rested the Mad Dragon Axe on his shoulder.
“That was magnificent martial arts. Your cultivation is simply not yet sufficient. Now I understand why Botam’s swordsmanship is spoken of in legends and myths.”
It was a remark meant to ease the sting of defeat: You lost, but the art you have refined is truly exceptional. So continue to strive.
Jeong-an gazed at Yeon Hojeong in silence, then sheathed her sword and bowed her head.
“I learned a great deal. It truly was extraordinary martial arts.”
Yeon Hojeong found himself smiling. Jeong-an did not speak empty words. She was not particularly versed in worldly etiquette either. One could tell from her posture and the tone of her voice. Yet it was precisely that honest demeanor that he found appealing. She was still untainted by the world, yet her convictions were clear and firm—a sight he found pleasing.
“If I grow complacent, you’ll catch up in no time. I’ll have to stay sharp myself.”
After all, the woman before him was not the Sword Queen he had known in his past life. Their ages were similar, but…
Yeon Hojeong turned to Hwa-un. Her face had hardened beyond recognition at the unexpected outcome.
“I apologize for the long wait. That concludes the appetizers. Let us go inside.”