Azure Sky Single Sword
Tang Pung-yeong's demeanor shifted in an instant.
"How did you know that?"
"It wasn't particularly difficult to deduce."
"You had better explain yourself properly."
Awl-sharp killing intent pricked at Dokgo Jin from head to toe, yet his composed expression did not waver in the slightest.
"I confirmed you were of the Tang Clan by that hidden weapon technique just now," Dokgo Jin replied smoothly. "And your name has two characters, does it not? That marks you as a member of a collateral branch."
In the Sichuan Tang Clan, where blood purity was prized above all else, the distinction between the main lineage and collateral branches was strictly enforced. Only direct male heirs bore a single-character given name; women and collateral scions were given two-character names. It was an internal tradition unknown to the vast majority of Jianghu martial artists.
"How could someone like you know such a..."
Dokgo Jin could hardly confess that he had once been the young master of the Dokgo Clan, which had stood as peers alongside the other Eight Great Clans.
"I heard it in passing," Dokgo Jin said with an indifferent shrug. "Besides, anyone with a shred of deductive reasoning could piece it together, couldn't they?"
"……"
"So, did you flee the Sichuan Tang Clan because of the bitterness of being a collateral descendant?"
A look of cold displeasure crossed Tang Pung-yeong's face. "Watch your mouth when you know nothing about it."
"I speak precisely because I do not know. Are your circumstances different, then?"
"If all you have to offer is idle prattle, get down."
Tang Pung-yeong turned his back on him once more.
"Let me ask you one thing," Dokgo Jin pressed. "What did the Hall Master of the Cloud Sea promise you?"
Tang Pung-yeong stiffened noticeably.
"I am merely curious as to why you chose to follow him."
"I assumed you became the Dragon Tiger Plaque Master purely through martial prowess, but your wits are sharper than expected," Tang Pung-yeong said curtly. "It is none of your concern."
Evidently unwilling to converse a moment longer, Tang Pung-yeong dropped from the vantage point to the ground below.
"Take watch here yourself."
"……"
Yet his relief was short-lived, and he soon came to regret his choice.
"That was quite the impressive hidden weapon technique," Mok Woo-jeon's voice chimed in as he sauntered over. "What else have you learned?"
"……"
"While you were at it, why didn't you lace it with poison before letting it fly? I was dying to know how the Dragon Tiger Plaque Master would have handled it."
Mok Woo-jeon chattered away without missing a beat, dogging his heels at every step.
After that day, the three men naturally found themselves assigned to the tail end of the procession, as though by unspoken agreement.
Each had his reasons. Tang Pung-yeong was an outcast, half by his own choice and half by circumstance, while Mok Woo-jeon's downfall was his ceaseless tongue. The other escort guards had grown thoroughly sick of his relentless tales of military glory from his days on the northern front, scattering whenever they saw him coming.
Dokgo Jin was the only one willing to tolerate his chatter. While 'tolerating' mostly meant letting the words flow into one ear and straight out the other, Dokgo Jin remained the sole companion who would quietly stand beside him. Consequently, the other guards distanced themselves from Dokgo Jin as well.
Bound by the escort's strict rule of three-man squads, they had no alternative. The solitary Tang Pung-yeong, the boisterous Mok Woo-jeon, and Dokgo Jin became an inseparable trio.
While marching along the road, Mok Woo-jeon stretched his arms and let out a long, theatrical yawn. "Ah, I'm bored out of my skull. My muscles are practically screaming for a fight. Couldn't a pack of bandits jump us or something?"
Private duels were strictly forbidden during an escort mission. Barring an enemy ambush, there was no reason to draw steel.
Unable to endure his childish whining any longer, Tang Pung-yeong snapped coldly, "If your body is so restless, go practice on your own during the break."
"Oh! Now there's an idea!"
As if he had been waiting for the suggestion, Mok Woo-jeon sprang to his feet. The convoy happened to be taking a brief respite near a mountain stream.
Gripping his sword, he strode out toward an open clearing. Dokgo Jin watched his retreating back with keen interest.
I was curious about him anyway...
The clearing was completely open, fully exposed to anyone in the camp, but Mok Woo-jeon paid no heed to the surrounding gazes.
Without hesitation, he drew his weapon.
The draw itself was unlike anything ordinary. The loop on the scabbard at his hip spun with a flick, swinging the hilt from behind his back to the front in a fluid arc. In that seamless, organic motion, the blade seemed to leap into his grasp of its own accord.
Only then could the blade be seen clearly: it was a single-edged sword. While its single cutting edge might lead one to classify it as a saber, its overall silhouette and balance closely mirrored a straight sword.
Truly unique.
Mok Woo-jeon gripped the elongated hilt firmly with both hands.
"Hup."
He released a sharp breath.
Whoosh.
The blade sheared through the air. Yet rather than a destructive, screeching blast of wind, a heavy, resonant sigh rolled outward.
Dokgo Jin's eyes narrowed.
There was not a single trace of internal energy imbued in Mok Woo-jeon's blade.
He wasn't drawing qi from his dantian; he relied entirely on the contraction and release of muscle and the rotational torque of his skeletal frame. Wielding a weapon two-handed should have restricted his range of motion, yet his sword trajectories were viciously sharp and remarkably fluid.
Whirrr!
The massive blade coiled around his body like a living vortex. Leveraging the weapon's center of gravity to build centrifugal force, he twisted his wrists to reverse the flow before the momentum could dissipate.
It was a bizarre, unbroken trajectory that seemed forever on the verge of snapping, yet never failed to link into the next strike. It looked like a sword dance, yet carried the relentless weight of a river winding violently around massive boulders.
"...Impressive," Tang Pung-yeong murmured under his breath. Even without a deep foundation in swordsmanship, he could recognize that Mok Woo-jeon's craft was far from ordinary.
There was no brilliant glow of sword qi or astral sword energy, yet the blade's path was exquisitely precise, devoid of the slightest opening.
He is different.
Mok Woo-jeon was unequivocally no ordinary first-class expert.
Even without an ounce of internal energy, that swordsmanship alone is enough to match a first-class master.
As a swordsman himself, Dokgo Jin felt the sheer weight of Mok Woo-jeon's martial art down to his bones.
I could overpower him with sword qi or astral gang, but in a contest of pure swordsmanship, he would be a troublesome opponent indeed.
Yet the mystery remained. While the sword art was undeniably remarkable, Dokgo Jin doubted Sagong Wun would have recruited him based solely on this display.
Having finished his whirlwind dance, Mok Woo-jeon brought the blade to a vertical halt. Beads of sweat dotted his brow. With a brisk flick, he cleared the blade, spun the scabbard loop around his hip, and drove the weapon home behind his back.
Clack.
"Phew."
Grinning with satisfaction, Mok Woo-jeon strolled back over and looked straight at Dokgo Jin.
"Well? What did you think?"
He seemed far more interested in Dokgo Jin's opinion than anyone else's.
"It is truly unique. A very impressive sword art."
"Hahaha! That compliment means more to me than any other."
"Still, is it wise to display it so openly for everyone to see?"
"That's the problem with you Jianghu martial artists. Are you all so timid? Do you think showing your forms will reveal all your weaknesses? Or do you think someone can just steal a technique by watching it once?" Mok Woo-jeon crossed his arms with a hearty grin. "If an art can be copied so easily, it doesn't deserve to be called high-tier martial arts. Let them watch all they want. They won't even be able to mimic the basics."
Though bold, his confidence was well-founded, and Dokgo Jin acknowledged it.
Even I would find it difficult to replicate.
Gripping a blade with two hands meant the foundational grip itself was fundamentally alien. It walked an entirely different path from Central Plains swordsmanship.
"Besides, what you saw was only the fundamentals of the Shura War Sword. When you see the advanced forms, your jaw will hit the dirt."
"I shall look forward to it."
Mok Woo-jeon offered a sly, meaningful grin. "Then how about this? Once we wrap up this escort mission and return to the Northern Heavens Fortress, care to have a spar with me?"
Dokgo Jin saw no reason to refuse. "Gladly."
"Hahaha! You'd better prepare yourself! I'm going to be the first master to officially topple the Dragon Tiger Plaque Master!"
A fortnight passed on the road.
The journey proved so peaceful and uneventful that Mok Woo-jeon spent half his days groaning in boredom. Just as Squad Leader Wu had predicted, they crossed from the territory of the Northern Heaven Alliance into that of Holy Sword Heaven without encountering any hindrance. In truth, Holy Sword Heaven maintained the strictest public order and security among the Four Hegemons of the Central Plains. Though the banner of the Northern Heaven Alliance drew curious glances along the way, no incidents broke out.
Thus, Dokgo Jin and his company arrived before the gates of the Namgung Clan Estate.
The rugged peaks of Mount Huang unfolded around them like an ornate folding screen. Seas of clouds drifted beneath their feet, and ancient, haughty pines clung tenaciously between bizarre rock formations—a breathtaking vista.
Nestled within that majestic scenery stood the Namgung Clan.
The World's Greatest Sword Clan.
Their sovereign pride—ruling Jianghu through the sword alone—emanated palpably from the very threshold of their mountain gate.
"Whoa..." Mok Woo-jeon's jaw dropped.
Before his eyes loomed a colossal gate that appeared to have been carved out of an entire mountain peak. Mounted high upon it, a plaque displayed four vigorous, imposing characters.
AZURE SKY SINGLE SWORD
"Building a lavish tile-roofed palace on the very crown of a mountain... How on earth did they drag all these massive stones up here?"
As Mok Woo-jeon clicked his tongue in awe, Tang Pung-yeong furrowed his brow beside him. "You've seen the Northern Heavens Fortress, and yet a scale like this still shocks you?"
"Well, sure. But my jaw hit the floor when I first saw the Northern Heavens Fortress, too." Even having survived the battlefields of the northern frontiers, Mok Woo-jeon had never witnessed a fortress of such monumental proportions before.
"Only the Namgung Clan could muster such grandeur," Tang Pung-yeong countered quietly. "Apart from my Tang Clan, few families could ever match this."
"Still, it's quite something. Look at the eyes on those sentries. Sharp as daggers."
Mok Woo-jeon spoke the truth.
The guards flanking the gate were clad in crisp azure-and-white martial robes, standing rigid and unyielding. The presence rolling off them was far from ordinary. They felt less like sentries and more like unsheathed, tempered blades. For men performing mere gate duty, their martial bearing was absurdly high.
Watching them, Dokgo Jin let out a faint, dry smirk.
A show of force.
The Namgung Clan had likely assigned elites from their premier units, such as the Azure Sky Squad or the Great Derivation Sword Squad, to stand watch at the entrance. It was a calculated display designed to flaunt their might before the guests arriving for the summit of the Eight Great Clans.
Yet few experienced martial artists would be taken in by such transparent posturing. In fact, standing guard like common sentries was clearly beneath them, and several of the younger disciples flushed red with embarrassment under the scrutiny of the escort guards.
Just then, the door of the lead carriage swung open, and Sagong Wun, Master of Cloud Sea Palace, stepped down.
The instant his boots touched the stone, the surrounding clamor dissolved into absolute silence.
Flicking his jade fan open with leisurely grace, Sagong Wun tilted his head back, taking in the towering gate before him with relaxed detachment.
"……"
After a brief moment, the heavy iron gate groaned, parting with a thunderous roar.
Rumble.
As the colossal barrier parted, an elderly man draped in azure robes emerged, flanked by a cohort of martial artists. Clear, resonant waves of inner qi washed over the courtyard, marking him as an elder of the Namgung Clan.
The elder and Sagong Wun exchanged formal fist-and-palm salutes.
"A pleasure to welcome you, Hall Master of the Cloud Sea. I am Namgung Byeok, Elder of the Namgung Clan."
Namgung Byeok bowed respectfully, yet his posture retained the rigid, unbending dignity characteristic of his clan.
"The pleasure is mine, Elder Namgung. I am Sagong Wun, Hall Master of the Cloud Sea."
"You have traveled a great distance. The Clan Leader awaits within."
Sagong Wun smiled warmly and gave a nod. "Lead the way."
With Sagong Wun at the vanguard and the escort guards following close behind, the procession moved forward. The mounts they had ridden had already been stabled at an inn at the mountain's base.
Dokgo Jin, Mok Woo-jeon, and Tang Pung-yeong fell in at the rear of the column, crossing the threshold of the main gate.
Zzzzt.
The moment he crossed the boundary, a prickling sensation flared across Dokgo Jin's skin.
The very air was different.
Centuries of battle intent and the unyielding will of countless swordsmen seemed to have soaked into the stone, the architecture, and even the ancient pine roots.
"What the...?" Mok Woo-jeon muttered, rubbing his forearms, while Tang Pung-yeong's brow pinched as his fingers twitched inside his sleeves.
Stone and timber could not genuinely emit sword qi. The experts of the Namgung Clan concealed behind the perimeter walls were deliberately projecting their auras into the courtyard.
They mean to cow our spirits.
Given their close alliance with Holy Sword Heaven, the Namgung Clan naturally harbored little goodwill toward the Northern Heaven Alliance, their chief rival.
A petty, pointless gesture.
Neither the escorts nor Sagong Wun were men to be easily rattled. Unsurprisingly, Sagong Wun didn't show the slightest reaction to the pressure.
"……"
Dokgo Jin cast an impassive gaze across the sprawling pavilions and vast martial drill grounds.
This place... hasn't changed at all.
Long ago, as a young boy, Dokgo Jin had visited the Namgung Clan Estate holding his father's hand.
He had been so young back then that most memories of his early childhood were hazy and distant, yet for reasons unknown, his memory of entering this estate remained vivid and sharp.
The Namgung Clan stands as mighty as ever, while my clan...
Stifling the bitter ache rising in his chest, Dokgo Jin buried his thoughts and pressed forward into the estate.