The Fall of the Iron Rule Sword
'So that's what all the scheming was for—just grabbing the deputy branch head's sanity.'
Kang Musang breathed a sigh of relief.
This was the Central Plains, after all, where all sorts of bizarre sorceries existed.
Even a technique that stole an opponent's internal energy with a slap across the cheek wouldn't be all that surprising.
Fortunately, Namgoong Juhee's ploy had only been to steady Yi Hayeon's mind.
It was fortunate because even if Yi Hayeon went all out, it wouldn't change a thing.
Kang Musang was stronger than everyone here combined.
That was why he'd been entrusted with the merchant lord's secret mission and risen to the rank of the Eonha Merchant Group's Eight Heroes.
One Yi Hayeon coming to her senses wouldn't make a difference.
That was Kang Musang's thinking.
……Until Namgoong Juhee stared him down.
"……!"
"Interlopers and idiots cleared out. Time for the pros to play."
Namgoong Juhee had somehow ditched her mask.
No telling why. Maybe sweat, or just stuffy.
She'd been spouting vulgar nonsense from the start anyway.
A girl from a world beyond what a mere Central Plains martial artist like Kang Musang could grasp.
More importantly, though, was the aura pouring off Namgoong Juhee.
Killing intent like blades sprouting from every inch of her body.
Kang Musang was a Peak expert with keen senses even among his peers.
Meaning he could roughly gauge an opponent's skill just by looking.
"……Hah. Unbelievable."
And the level he sensed from Namgoong Juhee now was unlike anything he'd seen.
Among those he'd met, she was on par with the Huashan sect leader.
A powerhouse who sat at the tail end of the Ten Great Masters under heaven.
"Unbelievable? What's so unbelievable? Why're you frozen stiff?"
Namgoong Juhee tossed out the same flippant tone as before.
She must've found Kang Musang cowering hilarious.
And no wonder— all she'd done was flick her eyes at him.
Gauging his movements with the intent of the Emperor Sword Form.
Kang Musang was scaring himself shitless, conjuring a phantom Emperor Sword Form master Namgoong Juhee.
Ridiculous.
"Hiding your true power, eh? Ruthless."
Kang Musang forced a calm tone.
Pure bluff and bluster.
"Oh, you caught on quick? Wow, you're sharp."
Namgoong Juhee replied just as casually.
A voice brimming with a master's leisure.
Kang Musang's eyebrow twitched. And as I thought!
Back at the inn when she'd nabbed those two wanted criminals, when she'd wandered the village fixing folks' problems, when she'd taken down Hyeok and Du—even then, she'd hidden her real strength.
Otherwise, Namgoong Juhee's actions made no sense.
She would've cleaned up the Black Kitchen boss before he could even mouth off.
If the gambling den or courtesans rubbed her wrong, she'd have swept the managers aside.
Hell, wandering as a ronin with that kind of power was impossible to begin with.
So why the hell had Namgoong Juhee bothered with the act?
Ah, right.
From the moment she'd taken those three gold taels, she'd already teamed up with the deputy branch head.
To root out an internal traitor, probably—whatever the details.
Hence the chaos she'd stirred.
Kang Musang spun his little novel in his head.
Payback for trying to out-act the acting queen.
"But knowing changes jack shit, right? No clue why you're still freezing up, but here I come~?"
"W-Wait!"
"Nope!"
The fight's dynamic had flipped completely.
Namgoong Juhee, on the defensive before, now pressed the attack. Kang Musang, brimming with momentum earlier, was visibly spooked to anyone watching.
"First up, one serving of Emperor Sword Form!"
By now, Namgoong Juhee had fully grasped the Emperor Sword Form.
Mount Tai footsteps, mountain-cleaving sword—but the core was speed and weight.
Drains stamina like crazy, but the destructive power's no joke.
Enough to briefly surpass her own realm.
Perfect opener against a Kang Musang who was misjudging her strength.
And so—BOOM!
The emperor's momentum crashed down on Kang Musang.
The force was so brutal his feet sank an inch into the ground.
The gritty dirt scraping his soles.
Now Kang Musang was certain.
This slip of a girl was a cut above him.
"Next, another serving of Emperor Sword Form!"
In that instant, a faint plum blossom scent tickled Kang Musang's nose.
What trick was this? Never heard of plum scent in the Emperor Sword Form.
Clang! Clang! Clang! Barely parrying her blade, Kang Musang pondered.
Of course not.
Emperor Sword Form doesn't smell like plums.
The swordplay from Namgoong Juhee's hand embodied Huashan's spirit fully.
She was shouting Emperor Sword Form while wielding Luk Hap Sword.
Martial arts don't auto-execute from yelling names.
Say whatever—match intent and hand to heart, done.
Falling for that makes you the idiot.
Then—WHOOSH!
The idiot's sword cleaved air from left to right.
Impressively sturdy for an idiot blade—Namgoong Juhee flew back with a thud-thunk!
Only then did Kang Musang's eyes sharpen. "You mad bitch! You tricked me!"
"Ow, fuck… my back."
If not for the searing pain in her waist, she'd have milked it: When did I? And really gotten under his skin.
But this pain? "Tch. This ain't right." Level.
A complete miss, yet the wind alone churned her guts.
"You bitch! You won't die easy!"
"Mutual, no? That last swing drained most of your qi, right?"
"What nonsense—!"
"I see it all. Crystal clear. That wasn't to kill—it was to escape. That's why the insane power."
Still, gotta do what ya gotta.
Namgoong Juhee played it cool through the pain.
Taunting's serious business.
Stand idle while they rage? Amateur hour.
Flap your gums, scrape their soul raw.
Burst their eye veins, drop 'em from hypertension—that's mastery.
"Embarrassing, huh? Voice all gravelly, acting cool."
"Who the hell's acting cool?!"
"It's fine, no need to explain. Folks thinking that's cool look retarded to everyone else? Happens all the time. Kinda sad you're past your prime, though."
"You—!"
"Yeah! More 'you bitch this, that'? All read. Told ya— I see everything."
In that sense, Namgoong Juhee was the real master.
Kang Musang's eternally calm face twisted fully.
Steam practically rising from his forehead—he was boiling.
Properly pissed now.
"Hoo."
Namgoong Juhee let out a big sigh.
The old fart yapping gave her time to steady her guts.
Now odds were fifty-fifty.
She figured.
Kang Musang had blown most of his qi on that emotional slash, and she was the lesser martial artist.
Factor in stamina, the Black Kitchen boss, etc.—yeah, half and half.
50% wasn't enough to bet your life.
But in games, you had to roll those dice.
Seeing this world as a game, Namgoong Juhee gripped her sword tight.
Quitting mid-stage? Unthinkable.
"Here I go!"
"Die, bitch!"
Their forms vanished in a blink.
Initiative to the master—Kang Musang's sword.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Heavy combos grazed Namgoong Juhee relentlessly.
Each strike packed killing intent.
One hit, and she'd be rat-meat.
"You mad bitch…!"
But only if it landed.
His blade joyfully sliced empty air; even glancing her, it ended there.
Kang Musang couldn't comprehend.
His Iron Rule Sword read foes perfectly—eyes, twitches, muscles.
Not a clue missed, yet no hits? How?
"Tch."
Namgoong Juhee smirked, reading his mind.
Her sword drew an arc.
Shing!
The blade went wild. Dizzyingly so.
Kang Musang's thought on her sword.
Left, then right, left again, left.
Swords have forms—you parry enough, you read 'em.
Not hers.
First ten blocks, he thought he had a tell.
Next ten erased it. No pattern.
Another ten, and resolve to read her vanished from his eyes.
Resignation.
Fitting word for a greed-ridden geezer.
Kwaaa…
Iron Rule Sword's essence bloomed from Kang Musang's blade, but power was spent.
Overdrawing qi to fend off her sword qi from all sides.
Thus, quite the sight Kang Musang made.
His dignified elder frame withered completely.
Muscles shriveled; bones draped in thin skin, sagging fat drooping low.
Not just muscles weakened—white chunks plinked from his mouth.
Teeth.
Lips caved without support; face crumpled.
No longer Peak realm. Just a decrepit old man.
"Huff… huff… Pathetic."
"……."
"Me? Huff… I wouldn't flop like that. Got the skill—why chase more riches? I'd gather my loved ones, leave last words."
Mad bitch. Spouting trash before, now stabbing the vitals at the end.
Kang Musang thought.
Family.
He had none.
Did jobs for pay from employers; last fifty years, from Eonha's merchant lord.
Yet "family" conjured one face.
The girl who'd barely survived his blade on the Black Kitchen boss.
Regret flickered, then he shook it off.
Admit it, and his whole life negated.
"What, gramps crying?"
"Sh-Shut yur maph."
"Can't even talk right. Retard."
"Shud yur maph! Tha gir's no' my famly!"
"Mocking a warrior's end? Bullshit."
Namgoong Juhee raised her sword.
And brought it down lightly.
"Trying to kill a helpless kid half your age? What warrior? Just a greedy old fart."
As Kang Musang's head fell to her words, he thought.
That voice burrowing into his skull? Must be its allure.
Definitely not regret. "Namgung Sojeo!"
At the same time, Namgoong Juhee dropped to her knees.
Ah, lost too much blood.
Price of charging a master thoughtlessly.