Chapter 83
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 83
Chapter Title: The Best Combo for Natural Exposition: The Clueless and the Explainer
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“Uwak!”
I barely managed to block the sword with my own, but my heart was still pounding like mad. Even though I could feel he’d held back his power, it had clearly been a killing blow. My hand gripping the sword tingled.
Was it because this was the sword of one of the Ten Supremes of the Martial World and the greatest swordsman of the previous generation at Mount Hua, making even a simple attack feel overwhelming, or…?
“As you can see, the killing intent is too thick.”
Supreme Elder Muyeong sheathed her sword again and explained the reason in a flat voice. She could’ve just told me, but she’d let me experience it firsthand so I could feel it for myself.
“Mount Hua’s swordsmanship is already known for its eerie, unrighteous style that doesn’t fit the righteous factions. But with this level of power on top of such dense killing intent, it’s only natural people would shy away from it.”
As expected, the technique itself was an art steeped in killing intent. My hand still ached from blocking it, so the power must be formidable too.
Supreme Elder Muyeong, who had handed me the manual, offered some advice.
“If you’re going to learn it, practice it alone, and whatever you do, don’t use it in official settings.”
I nodded obediently. If they didn’t know about a powerful, killer technique, the righteous faction folks’ specialty was to first label it a demonic art. I had no desire to be branded as some demonic art practitioner.
“You’re not telling me not to learn it?”
When I blinked in surprise and asked slyly, Supreme Elder Muyeong let out a small chuckle.
“With your eyes sparkling like that, as if I’d believe you won’t learn it. Even this old woman can see plain as day that telling you not to won’t make a difference.”
Haha, busted. I scratched my cheek with an awkward grin.
The moment I blocked the demonstration Supreme Elder Muyeong had shown me personally, I’d already resolved to make this Dancheon Flying Sword my signature ultimate technique.
* * *
“Hwaaam.”
I stretched with a yawn, rubbing my gritty eyes, and recalled the dark circles under them that I’d seen in the mirror that morning.
Rising before dawn, when the sun hadn’t even peeked over the horizon, to circulate qi at the Jade Maiden Peak, memorize the Dancheon Flying Sword forms and oral formulas, then swing my sword following them—how could sleep deprivation not hit me hard?
Even cutting back on rest time wasn’t enough, so in the end, I chose to skimp on sleep too. They say height is all genetics anyway, so I’d grow tall even without it. I hoped.
On top of that, since it was an advanced technique learned through self-study, my progress was the slowest of any art I’d picked up so far.
‘Still, the power was incredible.’
Remembering the rock that had taken a deep gash even from a pulled strike made this ordeal feel bearable.
But physiological needs were unavoidable, so when I started yawning nonstop in the middle of swinging my sword, Uijin—who’d come to supervise the Plum Sword Squad’s training ground after a long while—chided me.
“Take it easy. You’ll ruin your health. The Murim Alliance’s Dragon-Phoenix Meet isn’t even happening this time, kid. They’re just gathering.”
“Why the Dragon-Phoenix Meet? Huh, the righteous faction forces are all coming to the Murim Alliance? Did they finally build the main headquarters?”
“…You seriously didn’t know?”
“Yup.”
This mouth of mine runs too loose. Uijin frowned, muttering self-reproach under his breath before letting out a hollow laugh.
“I wondered why you lot were suddenly throwing yourselves into training as a group. I figured you’d heard somewhere and told the others.”
As Uijin said, the Plum Sword Squad was training with eyes blazing. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him, I took in the sight and told him the truth.
“I promised that if they could last over thirty exchanges against me in sparring, I’d let them try the Snowy Plum Blossom Sword.”
“Oh, you giving me a shot if I last thirty exchanges too?”
“Uncle, where’s your conscience?”
He’d probably lose his head before thirty exchanges were up—my sword would send it flying first. Under my sharp glare, Uijin scratched his head sheepishly, looking embarrassed.
“Anyway, pretty much all the young talents from the righteous factions will be there, so pass the word to your senior brothers to prepare properly.”
“Prepare how? You said the Dragon-Phoenix Meet isn’t even on.”
“What else? Sew the plum blossom emblem on their chests and practice keeping a straight face so they don’t get looked down on anywhere.”
Remembering my senior brothers cheering like idiots at the chance to receive the Snowy Plum Blossom Sword made a sense of duty well up in me, and I nodded seriously.
Mount Hua’s reputation was at stake—no way could I let those dopey faces represent us outside.
“Especially tell Biyeong and Bidam. Tell Biyeong not to laugh like a maniac and Bidam not to shrink away.”
“They’re not doing that lately. They’ve gotten weirder—creepily smirking everywhere and suddenly losing all fear. That’s the problem.”
Uijin pressed his forehead at my words, letting out a deep sigh as he muttered.
“Guess I need to throw them into closed-door training before they cause trouble.”
Watching those two, oblivious to the dark future heading their way and making a fuss just to swing the Eternal Cold Iron Sword once, I reaffirmed my resolve today.
I absolutely won’t end up like that.
* * *
After twenty-nine years, the Central Plains Murim Alliance was rebuilt.
After countless meetings, they reorganized with Ekyang Murim Branch as the main headquarters, Sacheon and Anhui Branches as major sub-headquarters, establishing three major Murim Alliance sites.
It wasn’t without complaints from the great sects and families.
Up until now, the nominal Murim Alliance had let them expand their power without restrictions.
But with the Demonic Cult rearing its head again, no one opposed it too strongly.
Today was the day the Murim Alliance main headquarters opened its doors for the first time.
In one of the rear gardens of the massive fortress-like headquarters, the young blood of the martial world—the next generation talents—had gathered.
“The martial families’ heirs have already clumped together.”
Without being asked, a boy followed the gaze of the blabbermouth next to him and spotted a group.
Their luxurious clothes, fine features, and arrogant expressions screamed highborn young masters and ladies from every inch of them.
“Namgung Family, Sacheon Tang Family, Habuk Peng Family, Jeogal Family, Murong Family. These five great families hold the highest status. They’re on par with the Nine Great Sects in the martial world, so if you get tangled with them the wrong way, it’ll be a headache—watch out.”
The boy nodded vaguely, half-listening to the explanation, when his eyes met those of a curly-haired young master in the group, propping his chin boredly.
The standout features in a place where long hair dominated: short hair, two beauty marks under his left eye, and looks handsome enough to crush anyone’s confidence just by glancing.
As if asking what the hell he was staring at, the young master’s face crumpled, and the boy hurriedly looked away—only to spot someone wearing a veil.
He found himself blankly staring at the white hair and red eyes peeking through the lightly fluttering fabric. Then, a boy who looked about thirteen or fourteen, standing next to the veiled figure, glared at him fiercely.
As his master had said, the kangho was a scary place indeed. The boy quickly averted his gaze, wiping the cold sweat beading on his forehead, and asked the still-chattering blabbermouth beside him.
“What’s the Nine Great Sects?”
“You don’t even know the Nine Great Sects? Where’d you crawl out from, a backwater village?”
A village is a village. The boy, dragged here by his recluse master, nodded, and the blabbermouth looked at him like he was some exotic specimen before launching into a friendly, eye-level explanation.
“Among the righteous sects, the nine most renowned and powerful plus one gang are called the Nine Great Sects and Gang.”
“Oh, any sects I know?”
“Shaolin Temple, Wudang Sect, Mount Hua Sect, Emei Sect, Kunlun Sect, Jongnam Sect, Jeomchang Sect, Cheongseong Sect, Kongtong Sect, and the Beggars’ Sect.”
Even this martial outsider had heard a few of the names in the list the blabbermouth ticked off on his fingers.
“I heard the Beggars’ Sect is made entirely of beggars, so all the ragged guys here are Beggars’ Sect, right?”
“That’s right. So don’t even think about picking fights calling them beggars, buddy.”
Buddy? When did we meet? Despite inwardly cursing the blabbermouth’s cheeky advice and the hand casually slung over his shoulder, the boy was impressed by his affinity for people.
More next-gen talents kept streaming in, and the explanations continued nonstop.
“The group coming in now—the all-nun one on the left must be Emei Sect. And the right, with the Taiji emblem on their Daoist robes, is Wudang.”
“I know Wudang. The world’s greatest sword sect, right?”
“Can’t say greatest for sure. Mount Hua exists, after all.”
Hearing footsteps, the blabbermouth turned and exclaimed in admiration.
“Oh, speak of the devil—they’re just arriving.”
Around thirty martial artists in their mid-to-late teens were filing into the rear garden.
Some exuded utter nonchalance, as if tension was beneath them; others were utterly indifferent and bored despite the stares pouring their way.
Whether smiling or stone-faced, every one of them radiated an intimidating aura.
Almost no one present wouldn’t recognize the single plum blossom embroidered on their black Daoist robes as Mount Hua’s symbol.
“Definitely, the great sect disciples have a different vibe from the start, huh? Though the families win on looks—.”
Spotting one in the group that left the boy dazed, the blabbermouth nudged him with a grin.
“Hey, that one’s a Daoist. No interest in worldly private affairs, got it?”
Hey, but she really is a beauty…. An admiring sigh followed.
Long black hair like ebony, skin like white jade, delicately drawn eyes like brush strokes, red lips like pomegranate juice, deep navy eyes brimming with melancholy.
A beauty that could hide the moon and shame flowers.
The girl at the group’s center, with her unusually grayish-brown hair, was quite striking too.
Her sharp, chilly eyes and vibe gave her phoenix eyes, but standing next to that jaw-dropping beauty, she was a bit overshadowed.
Having drawn all eyes upon their entrance, the Mount Hua third-generation disciples headed straight for where the Wudang third-gen had gathered.
Mount Hua Sect and Wudang Sect.
The meeting of the two sects most frequently named in debates over the world’s greatest sword school drew considerable attention.
Even the family heirs, who’d been chattering among themselves, stopped talking to watch the standoff with keen interest.
Sensing the eyes on them, the two groups exchanged quiet words before moving to another spot.
Watching their retreating backs, the boy muttered.
“Wonder what sects fighting over the title of greatest sword school in the world talk about when they meet.”
* * *
Worried the stares might prevent them from talking, but fortunately, a quiet, secluded spot was easy to find anywhere.
As soon as they faced off again with Wudang, Bihun smirked crookedly and spoke first.
“Three years of resolve, and we meet again after just one—nice to see you, you long-nosed con artists.”