Chapter 277
Chapter 277
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 277
Chapter Title: The Shandong Oak Clan's Second Son
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"That’s…."
A brief, quiet silence passed before Hwaak slowly opened his mouth.
"…I’m not sure what you mean."
Hwaak’s voice, spoken as if indifferently, carried a faint tremor.
Dry sweat trickled down the nape of his neck.
Hyeok Mulin gazed steadily at him.
‘Not sure, huh.’
His gaze sharpened like a blade poised to slice as Hyeok Mulin continued.
"Are you truly saying you have no connection whatsoever to the Shandong Oak Clan?"
"Well…."
At Hyeok Mulin’s voice once more, Hwaak started to say something but clamped his mouth shut.
Eventually, he let out a sigh and admitted it.
"You’re right. I am the second son of the Shandong Oak Clan."
It wasn’t common, but some prestigious martial clans sent their children to one of the Nine Great Sects.
They trained and gained experience on equal footing with many other warriors, then returned to their families upon reaching adulthood.
He was one such case.
At the age of twelve, on his clan patriarch’s orders, he had set foot on Mount Hua.
Afterward, he lived among the Mount Hua Sect’s disciples as Hwaak, blending his surname into their Taoist naming convention.
The fact that he was actually the second young master of the Shandong Oak Clan was known only to the sect leader here on Mount Hua.
How?
"But how in the world did you figure it out?"
Up until now, neither his master nor his senior brothers, junior brothers, junior sisters—none had suspected his origins, and he had never told them.
He hadn’t wanted to stir up trouble in the sect before he inevitably left upon reaching adulthood.
And things had gone exactly as he planned right up to this point, just before his coming-of-age.
His secret as a scion of the Shandong Oak Clan had been kept intact.
Yet to have it seen through by someone he’d only glimpsed from afar two days ago, passing by like a shadow….
Hwaak’s mind filled with immense doubt.
"How I figured it out?"
Hyeok Mulin provided the answer.
"A swordsman judges by the sword, doesn’t he?"
"…Pardon?"
"I sensed it from the way you grip the hilt. The weapon you’re truly accustomed to isn’t a sword—it’s a spear."
The clue for Hyeok Mulin had been Hwaak’s grip on the sword hilt.
Sword and spear.
Among the vast differences between these two weapons, one was the center of gravity.
Most spears had their balance point near the spearhead or in the middle.
Swords, however, were different.
With the balance near the hilt, the way one gripped to control that weight differed greatly between the two.
Even if he’d entered the sect young, as the second son of his clan, he must have undergone considerable spear training.
Thus, despite holding a sword for no small amount of time, Hwaak was still far more comfortable with spears, gripping the hilt as close to the guard as possible.
All to shift the balance point upward even slightly.
"Just from that, you realized I’m a warrior of the Shandong Oak Clan?"
Well, there were a few other clues besides.
His swordplay emphasized weight and power in a way that felt slightly off for the Mount Hua Sect’s prized Illusory Sword.
His cuts with the sword looked awkward, as spears favored thrusting attacks.
His stance was unnecessarily wide for executing sword forms.
These were habits so subtle that even close observation might miss them, yet they hadn’t escaped Hyeok Mulin’s eyes.
Hearing Hyeok Mulin’s explanation, Hwaak couldn’t hide his shock.
‘He noticed I primarily use spears just from those tiny differences?’
His insight was….
Amazement lingering, Hwaak posed one more question.
"Then how did you know I’m from the Shandong Oak Clan specifically?"
"That."
In truth, it was thanks to memories from his past life.
He knew the Shandong Oak Clan always sent one child to Mount Hua to gain experience.
But he couldn’t say that.
"Few clans would be accepted for training only until adulthood at Mount Hua. And among them, only one primarily uses the spear."
Shandong Oak Clan.
The foremost spear clan in the Central Plains.
And one of the Three Stars and One Sun.
The home of the North Dipper Spear King, patriarch of the Shandong Oak Clan.
‘Lucky me.’
To encounter a scion of the Shandong Oak Clan at just the right time.
Given that their patriarch was one of the Three Stars and One Sun, a clash with them was inevitable someday.
"Impressive. You’re the first to uncover my identity since I left home, Hero Hyeok."
The sect leader had known via letter.
So Hyeok Mulin was the only one to deduce it firsthand.
Even so, Hwaak expressed regret with a sorry face.
Separate from his origins, the core issue remained unresolved.
"But regrettably, it’s true that I’m unskilled with the sword. If I sparred Hwagang now, I’d lose a hundred out of a hundred times."
"Probably."
Hyeok Mulin agreed.
The instability in his sword swings wasn’t him holding back to hide his identity.
He was genuinely unskilled with the sword—like wearing ill-fitting clothes.
"But that’s not what I expect from you."
Hyeok Mulin stepped toward the weapon rack in the corner of the training ground.
From the array of weapons there, he pulled out the longest and sturdiest one and tossed it to Hwaak.
Thud.
Hwaak caught the arcing staff with both hands and spoke.
"This… isn’t it a staff?"
"Yes."
Hyeok Mulin, having handed over the wooden staff, looked at him and said.
"You’ll use the staff in this spar."
"What?!"
Hwaak’s jaw nearly hit the floor.
"Why? Is it so strange for a Shandong Oak Clan member to use a staff?"
"No, it’s not that…!"
Hwaak had much to say.
But after much deliberation, what he blurted out was.
"I’ve only trained in swordsmanship all this time!"
"Didn’t you learn spear arts as a child?"
"Yes, but…."
"Then you’re good. Your body remembers."
What kind of nonsense is that!
Hwaak felt like his hair might rip out.
It had been seven years since leaving his clan for Mount Hua.
Even if childhood spear habits lingered in his body.
‘How am I supposed to pick this up again after seven years out of nowhere!’
Hwaak’s face twisted in despair.
Seeing this, Hyeok Mulin said.
"Basic instinct is enough."
"…Pardon?"
"That’s how you’ll beat the sword."
Swish—
Hyeok Mulin drew a sword from the rack and extended it slowly.
Hwaak’s face reflected in the gleaming blade catching the light.
Toward him, Hyeok Mulin smiled faintly and said.
"I’ll teach you now."
"Huff, huff, huff…."
The sunset had painted the sky by now.
Hwagang lay in the middle of the courtyard, chest heaving with ragged breaths.
A shadow fell over his sweat-drenched head.
Cheon Su-myeong, hands behind his back, looked down and said.
"You’ve got some real grit, kid."
Originally, Cheon Su-myeong had no intention of properly instructing the Mount Hua disciples.
But Hyeok Mulin’s provocation couldn’t be ignored.
It was a short time, hardly enough to call true discipleship, yet could he let someone trained by the Sword Venerable lose to another swordsman?
In the end, Cheon Su-myeong gave Hwagang some light instruction.
Of course, not any new sword forms.
They were Cheon Clan techniques, and at Hwagang’s level, learning them was impossible.
Instead, Cheon Su-myeong shared pointers on the essence of sword and combat.
This should ensure no defeat.
The gap between Hwagang and Hwaak was already vast.
Yet Cheon Su-myeong remained vigilant.
Hwagang had shattered the wall before him and elevated his skill another level.
The reason for such effort was simple.
‘Hyeok Mulin.’
His opponent had been touched by Hyeok Mulin’s hand.
No matter how mediocre a warrior, no matter how obvious the outcome of a spar. With Hyeok Mulin’s involvement, Cheon Su-myeong couldn’t predict the result.
The Hyeok Mulin he’d seen so far was someone who never let tension slip until the end.
‘But even so, he can’t bridge this gap.’
Recalling Hwagang and Hwaak’s swordsmanship alternately, Cheon Su-myeong calmed his mind.
The difference in their skills spanned several realms.
Crossing that in half a day?
‘Even if the greatest swordsman of past and present came to instruct, it’d be impossible.’
Cheon Su-myeong was convinced of victory.
"Let’s go now."
"Yes."
At Cheon Su-myeong’s words, Hwagang rose.
His attitude toward the man was far more respectful than before.
From the moment Cheon Su-myeong’s instruction began, Hwagang—as a swordsman—realized just how profound a realm this warrior had attained.
He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but he knew it was beyond the clouds, far past his own judgment.
Grateful for the guidance from such a figure, Hwagang maintained a polite demeanor.
Heading together to the training ground, the two faced Hyeok Mulin and Hwaak standing there.
But.
"…Why’s your face like that?"
Cheon Su-myeong said with a troubled look at Hwaak.
Hwaak’s face was a swollen, bruised mess.
Hwaak slowly moved his busted lips.
"It’s nothing."
"…."
Cheon Su-myeong’s gaze shifted to Hyeok Mulin beside him.
Hyeok Mulin oddly held a staff, and Cheon Su-myeong immediately guessed its use.
To reduce someone to that state in half a day.
Shaking his head at the brutality, Cheon Su-myeong cleared his thoughts.
‘Whatever he did, it won’t change the spar’s outcome.’
It would end in Hwagang’s overwhelming victory.
Returning to a stoic expression, Cheon Su-myeong looked at Hyeok Mulin and said.
"Preparations for the spar?"
"Of course."
Unlike Hwaak’s face, Hyeok Mulin responded with perfect calm.
"Good. No need for more words, then. Let’s start the spar now."
As Cheon Su-myeong and Hyeok Mulin stepped back, Hwagang and Hwaak faced each other.
Hgagang stared straight ahead with sharp eyes.
And Hwaak, eyes peeking through swollen slits, direction unclear.
Eyeing one another, they kept their loose guards up.
"No need to explain the rules. They’re the standard ones, with no major changes."
Both at an age called late disciples, they’d experienced many spars.
Cheon Su-myeong skipped the trivialities.
And was about to signal the start.
"Then, the spar begins now…."
"Hold on."
But at that moment, Hyeok Mulin interrupted.
"Something left to say?"
"One important thing remains."
Whoosh!
Hyeok Mulin tossed the staff, and Hwaak caught it one-handed.
He tapped it on the ground, adjusted his stance, then aimed it at Hwagang.
"…?"
Witnessing this, Cheon Su-myeong fell silent, piecing it together.
Realizing at last, he let out a hollow chuckle.
"You don’t mean to use a staff in the spar?"
His eyes on Hyeok Mulin held bewilderment and absurdity.