Chapter 27
Chapter 27
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 27
Chapter Title: Dismantling the Sword Tiger
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Crack!
Namgung Hyeok calmly reset his dislocated wrist.
The nonchalant way he popped his dislocated joint back into place sent a strange chill of dread through the air.
Namgung Hyeok grimaced.
“Damn it, it keeps popping out.”
This damn body of his!
“You’re the reason my arm dislocated!”
Namgung Jeong flinched at Namgung Hyeok’s sudden bellow.
“What the hell are you...”
“Shut up! No excuses!”
“You crazy bas...!”
Namgung Jeong’s face twisted in fury.
What the fuck has this mad bastard been babbling about since earlier?!
The nerve of him!
Namgung Jeong charged at Namgung Hyeok with savage fury.
But to Namgung Hyeok’s eyes, his movements were nothing more than clumsy, amateur swordplay.
Namgung Hyeok deflected Namgung Jeong’s attacks and began pummeling his body in earnest.
Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack!
His wooden sword danced in a blur, mercilessly thrashing Namgung Jeong’s frame.
“This guy’s got some tough hide, huh?”
Oh ho, so light taps won’t cut it?
“Then I’ll just hit harder!”
Namgung Hyeok put more power into his wooden sword.
Boom!
Thwack!
The wooden sword smashed into Namgung Jeong’s forearm, sending a shock like a sledgehammer blow.
Namgung Jeong’s mouth gaped open.
“Arrrgh! My elbow!”
“Huh?”
Namgung Jeong, who’d only been taking hits, stared at Namgung Hyeok with a blank face.
I got hit on the forearm...?
Why are you screaming?
“This fucking bastard, my arm’s dislocated—!”
I didn’t do anything...?
Why’s he hurting after hitting me?
Namgung Hyeok’s bloodshot eyes brimmed with tears as he glared, his expression anything but normal.
‘W-what the hell is wrong with this psycho...?’
But the question didn’t linger long. The moment Namgung Hyeok reset his elbow, he lunged back in with another attack.
Clunk!
“Gahk!”
Clunk!
“Urk!”
Crack!
“Ur...?”
“Argh! It hurts—!”
Namgung Hyeok’s screams drowned out Namgung Jeong’s groans.
Crack!
Next was the leg.
“Ngk!”
Snap!
Namgung Hyeok’s shoulder twisted.
“Argh!”
Thwack!
Then the right arm.
“Urk!”
Clunk!
Namgung Hyeok’s ankle turned.
“Eurgk!”
Thwack!
The head again!
“Guhk!”
Snap!
Namgung Hyeok’s finger bent.
“Euk!”
Namgung Jeong clutched his head, writhing in agony as he staggered back.
Namgung Jangcheon watched the whole exchange, his cheek twitching upward nonstop as if ready to ascend to heaven.
‘That’s it, my boy! Yeah, just like that! Good, spot those openings!’
He’d been horrified at first seeing the dislocated bones casually reset, but what followed left him in awe.
‘So cool-headed! Perfect field medicine! That’s my son!’
The composure, naturally pressuring his opponent without panic—it was flawless.
Namgung Jangcheon regained his calm.
He became the perfect spectator, watching Namgung Hyeok’s actions with fatherly pride.
The other onlookers, meanwhile, stared in stunned silence at what Namgung Hyeok was doing.
Most just gaped, half out of their minds, eyes fixed on the stage.
Then the murmurs grew.
Bewilderment and absurdity doubled.
“...What the hell is that?”
“What’s going on?”
“It’s intense, right? Wait, who’s winning?”
“Second Young Master’s hitting him... or is he the one getting hit?”
“No, how does your arm bend like that when you’re hitting?”
“Did you see his leg dangling just now?”
“Second Young Master’s winning, right? Yeah?”
It was a form of sparring no one had ever seen.
Namgung Hyeok clearly dominated, overwhelming his foe.
The opponent was getting thrashed, suffering in pain.
Yet the attacker, Namgung Hyeok, was suffering too.
...Watching closely, it almost didn’t look like an attack.
The one getting hit was in agony, obviously, but the attacker’s joints kept popping, plunging him into the same torment.
A bizarre scene.
Like watching some twisted opera.
But no one could laugh.
The shocks kept slamming into their heads one after another.
Finally, Namgung Jeong, battered relentlessly, couldn’t hold back and roared.
“You fucking bastard—!”
Ignoring the excruciating pain, he unleashed Lone Shadow Sword.
Even in a spar, it was a deadly thrust aimed straight for Namgung Hyeok’s heart.
But what came back was Namgung Hyeok’s unrelenting beating.
Thwack!
“Kek!”
His knee smashed, Namgung Jeong tumbled across the ground.
‘H-how is this happening?’
Namgung Jeong couldn’t wrap his head around it.
He tried to dodge, but couldn’t.
Namgung Hyeok’s wooden sword always cracked his skull first, before his body could react.
And it wasn’t even blindingly fast.
He thought he had time to react and evade, but he couldn’t.
No—more precisely, it felt like he was slamming his own head into Namgung Hyeok’s outstretched sword.
Absurd, but that’s exactly what kept happening.
It was driving him insane.
Getting pummeled nonstop by some shrimp of a guy—it was infuriating.
“Y-you bastard, what sorcery is this... Kek!”
Thwack! Crack!
The wooden sword struck his cheekbone.
Then shoulder blade, collarbone, ribs, knee!
It targeted bones only.
The nonstop bone hits pushed the pain beyond imagination.
“Grraaah!”
A weird groan burst from Namgung Jeong’s mouth.
The pent-up agony twisted into something birdlike.
Crack! Crunch!
The wooden sword smashed Namgung Jeong’s head and heroically shattered.
“G-guhh...!”
Namgung Jeong clutched his skull, body shuddering violently.
Blood poured from his cracked head.
In extreme pain piercing to the marrow, foam bubbled at his mouth.
Namgung Hyeok flung the broken wooden sword aside and clicked his tongue.
“Thick skull.”
“Grr... Eurgk!”
“Enough already. You’ll bleed out and die.”
“Shut your mouth! I’ve waited for this moment! You’ll regret picking up that wooden sword!”
Ignoring the warning, Namgung Jeong staggered forward, and Namgung Hyeok let out a hollow laugh.
“Hahaha, hahahaha!”
“Die!”
Namgung Jeong thrust his sword fiercely.
“You dare face me barehanded?!”
Namgung Hyeok watched the charging Namgung Jeong and raised his palm.
“Hahaha.”
Such a cute little guy.
No sooner had his hollow laugh ended than his palm savagely slapped Namgung Jeong’s cheek.
Slaaap!
A horrific sound, unbelievable from a human body, rang out as Namgung Jeong’s head snapped back.
Spurt!
Red blood sprayed, and something white scattered in chunks.
His head whipped back with multiple recoils before returning to place.
“Uh... Uhh...”
A choked groan leaked from Namgung Jeong’s mouth.
Drip.
Blood streamed from his nose.
His eyes rolled back, knees buckled.
Thud!
With a heavy crash, Namgung Jeong crumpled face-first to the ground.
Namgung Hyeok furrowed his brow.
“Should’ve just slapped him from the start.”
Nothing beat the feel of a good hand-slap.
Namgung Hyeok recalled an ancient sage’s wisdom and nodded sagely.
Were his hands ordinary?
The hands of a peerless master, unrivaled through the ages.
A true master could turn chopsticks into a deadly weapon.
Even a slap on the cheek was different when he delivered it.
Namgung Hyeok lightly dusted off his palm.
Jangle.
His wrist dangled limply in the air.
“...Ow.”
Namgung Hyeok reverently grasped his cheeky wrist with his other hand.
Crack, crack!
The joints settled back, and he turned to the elders’ dais.
The elders’ jaws hung so low they nearly scraped the floor, refusing to close.
Every one wore a dazed expression.
“W-what is...”
“What kind of technique is that?!”
“...Is it really over? Does that even make sense?”
“Huuuh. How do you even...”
“Second Young Master actually took down the Sword Tiger!”
“Ha, haha! He really won, he really did!”
Seeing Namgung Jeong a bloody mess finally made it sink in.
It had happened in the blink of an eye.
One big boom, and Namgung Jeong was pulp on the ground.
“Ha, haa... A prodigy. A great blessing upon the main house, a great... Ow!”
Grand Elder Namgung Wi-gyeong spilled his tea, yelping at the scalding pain.
Then he dazedly stared at the stage again.
Namgung Wi-gyeong was better off; the rest couldn’t even breathe right.
Their brains had flatlined.
Tremble!
‘My Hyeok...’
Namgung Jangcheon’s cheek quivered, his shoulders shaking faintly.
‘He... won.’
Our Hyeok, who’d trained in martial arts for just one month,
Beat Namgung Jeong, who’d trained over fifteen years!
The Sword Tiger, hailed alongside his brother the Sword Dragon as the clan’s top young talent!
And he demolished him utterly.
Unbelievable, right before their eyes.
The initial Thunder Fist could be luck, but what followed was no fluke.
Perfect swordsmanship and footwork.
Sure, the constant dislocations made it look ridiculous, but it was a level impossible in one month.
Had there ever been such a case in clan history?
No, he could swear there hadn’t.
‘Not just a prodigy.’
Genius.
Nothing short of genius explained it.
A genius unlike any in the clan’s entire history!
‘My son’s a genius!’
Namgung Jangcheon’s cheek twitched wildly, expressing his joy.
Tremble tremble!
But the family head must remain dignified.
“A-hem! The winner of the... ahem! spar has been decided, it seems.”
Namgung Baek felt like he might suffocate.
He couldn’t even open his mouth, just stared at the stage with a pale, ashen face.
As everyone reeled in shock, Namgung Hyeok looked up at the dais in a slouch.
His face full of annoyance and emptiness, he glared at Namgung Baek.
“Call it already. Do it again and he might actually die.”
“......”
“Sigh, fine, I’ll handle it. Don’t want the hassle if he gets up, so I’ll finish him for good.”
“......”
Namgung Hyeok glanced at the zoned-out Namgung Baek, then sauntered over and reached for Namgung Jeong’s hair.
At that moment, Namgung Baek snapped to and shouted.
“S-stop! Stop it! Stand down!”
Namgung Hyeok glanced sideways, shook his head, and clenched his fist.
Namgung Baek panicked and blurted desperately.
“I-I... No, Jeong lost! He lost, so stop!”
“Really?”
“Y-yes!”
“Hmm, no take-backs?”
“N-no!”
Only then did Namgung Hyeok straighten up.
He stared at the pallid Namgung Baek, then quietly said in his slouch,
“Keep your word. No double-talk.”
Namgung Baek’s face contorted miserably.
He slowly turned to Namgung Jangcheon.
“...May I take Jeong, Family Head?”
Namgung Jangcheon, swept in emotion, cleared his throat grandly and nodded.
“A-hem! Head to the infirmary at once.”
Namgung Baek dragged his slumped form toward the stage, looking like a gambler who’d lost everything overnight.
He stood weakly before Namgung Jeong.
Gazing down, Namgung Baek’s pupils shook violently.
‘No way! Our... our Jeong...’
Rage and shock hammered the back of his head.
He shot Namgung Hyeok a complicated look.
He’d heard the boy was training in martial arts, but to reach this level?
When?
How?
His gaze lingered on Namgung Hyeok with growing turmoil, then he quietly hoisted Namgung Jeong onto his back.
“You win today.”
Today?
Yeah, I heard that hope loud and clear.
Namgung Hyeok smirked and stretched into a yawn.
Namgung Baek glared briefly, then roughly turned away.
As he did, his eyes met Namgung Jangcheon’s, whose lips were split in a grin.
Namgung Jangcheon’s mouth gaped wide.
‘Ha, haha! A moment etched into the main house’s history!’
A great blessing, a great blessing!
“A-hehehehem!”