The Namgung Clan's Sorrowful Legacy

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Even if the head of the Namgung Clan at the time was renowned for his martial prowess, there was no guarantee his direct descendants would inherit that strength. No matter how wise and virtuous the head might be, his children weren't guaranteed to follow suit. The head of the Namgung back then was not only mighty in battle but also profoundly wise and upright—a man who knew righteousness and propriety, upheld justice, and lived by his sword.

Yet his children fell short. Neither in power nor character were they fit to lead the clan. Still, the head never gave up on them. He raised them with love, sometimes sternly, striving to mold them into proper human beings at the very least. It wasn't easy. All three of his children rode on their father's prestige like wild dogs rampaging through the martial world. No wonder even on his deathbed, he lamented that his last remaining child was still the prettiest of the lot. To the Namgung Clan, those children were nothing less than festering wounds.

Perhaps that's why the head began looking beyond his direct line, seeking talent among the collateral branches. But even that proved difficult. Whether it was heaven's will abandoning the Namgung, or the head's own failings, suitable candidates were scarce even there. Then he found her—a girl with mysterious eyes that seemed to hail from the Western Regions. In her, the head saw hope.

Her name was Yoo Haneul. True, she was sometimes out of her mind, and her talent was abysmal... but she was kinder and more chivalrous than anyone, enough to momentarily eclipse her mania and horrific gifts. The head deemed that enough. He took her as his youngest disciple. And in the end, she inherited everything—the rightful master of the Namgung.

Even if she didn't want it. There was simply no one else left. If some Namgung scion lurked anywhere in the Central Plains, she would have gladly handed over everything and stepped aside. But there was none. Not until she died once and reincarnated into the next world did heaven fail to find another bearer of the Namgung name.

"I thought it was weird."

Gazing at Namgung Pyo, who had leaped back, Haneul spoke in a subdued voice. For once, irritation bubbled up—not rage or hatred, but a petty annoyance, like biting into a hidden green chili in a dumpling. It had been so long since she'd felt it that she couldn't drift into her usual vacant ramblings. That only piled on more irritation.

Her head throbbed. Sounds she shouldn't hear echoed, scents that weren't there wafted, tastes unbidden filled her mouth, sights impossible appeared... Thud, thud. Tapping her head, Haneul opened her mouth.

"The Constellation's name is especially fishy."

Messages from the apparently furious Constellation scrolled before her eyes, but Haneul ignored them and continued.

"The personality's no big shock—same as the original kids, more or less. I get how it clawed its way to becoming a Constellation."

Haneul herself had gone from human to something else in an instant, so with desperate effort or thrashing about, even that was possible.

"Calling itself a descendant? Kinda makes sense. Some distant collateral Namgung might've survived somewhere. But swinging that sword while claiming the Namgung name? Nah, that's a stretch."

Namgung Pyo's lips twitched for a long moment before he forced out words at her sharp jab.

"Shut your mouth. What do you know, insulting our Namgung with that drivel? Changgung is boundless and unhindered—nothing to fear. Even if I'm lacking, our Supreme Ancestor—"

"See? A proper martial artist would've gleaned plenty from that strike. But not you. Think I recite the Imperial Sword Form's incantation, and you'll suddenly wield it?"

Tilting her head, Haneul pressed on.

"I don't. And that 'Cleaving-the-Blue-Heavens-something' up there? No different."

Everyone present caught that "Cleaving-the-Blue-Heavens-something" meant the descendant of the emperor who cleaved the blue heavens.

Namgung Pyo couldn't just listen anymore. The insult stung his pride, but more than that, he feared what the Constellation might do if he stayed quiet. Linger too long, and it might strip his powers entirely—dooming him to less than A-rank trash.

"Anyway, I could sorta understand all that. But 'Cleaving the Blue Heavens'... that doesn't fly. A true descendant wouldn't use that name. He became the blue sky himself to protect his followers. His heirs would've walked the same path."

Haneul didn't stop, heedless.

"Sure, Namgung descendants might pursue different martial paths. I thought I'd watch a bit. But now? Nah."

Her gaze no longer fixed on Namgung Pyo. It drifted higher—to the Constellation somewhere beyond.

"What are you? Why impersonate the Namgung?"

"Uwaaaaaah!!"

Namgung Pyo snapped. He kicked off and charged, true sword in hand—the Namgung Clan's fifth treasured blade, bestowed by the Constellation itself: Emperor's Heavenly Thunder. Swing it once, and the heavens roared—hence the name. Advertising the swing with that racket made it a useless sword from the start.

Sure, it might have special effects. But to a swordsman, that didn't matter. A sword was for cutting. As long as it sliced well and didn't snap easily, it was treasure ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠enough.

Namgung Pyo, who thought otherwise, poured excess mana into it. Blue sword aura wrapped the noisy blade—vast and broad, mimicking Changgung's unhindered boundlessness, much like his swordsmanship.

To Haneul's eyes, it was just a worm aping Changgung's sketch. Knocking it aside was effortless.

Clang—!

Unstable aura, full of gaps.

Crack—!

So flimsy a single tap shattered its form.

Haneul kept parrying Namgung Pyo's blade, scrutinizing the Changgung No-Mind Swordsmanship he claimed to know. The forms matched superficially. But the details? Pathetic. Not learned firsthand, no grasp of the principles, not even the incantations. It looked like he'd patched together stances using someone else's borrowed power.

No need to watch more. After blocking a dozen exchanges, Haneul flung Namgung Pyo back.

"A worm burrowed in the earth—how could it know the sky? 'Changgung is unhindered' this, that... Meaningless drivel to you lot."

Muttering, Haneul sheathed her wooden sword at her waist like a scabbard.

Crackle—

Blue lightning sparked.

"Shut your trap—!"

Namgung Pyo's eyes rolled back as he lunged. Blue footprints bloomed like flowers with each step—flashy, but just mana leakage from overuse.

"At least I found one decent one."

Meaning Namgung Hyeok. But it didn't reach his ears.

Kaboom!!

Namgung Pyo's Emperor's Heavenly Thunder swallowed Haneul's mutter.

"Cleaving-the-Blue-Heavens-whatever, you stay put."

Undeterred, Haneul whispered onward, ignoring the swinging sword as if it were air, eyes on the distance.

"Don't do a thing. Just wait."

Questions to ask. Truths to hear. That Constellation would do for an audience.

"I'll come find you soon enough."

Haneul stamped the ground hard. Lightning from her wooden sword intensified. Namgung Hyeok swallowed at the blue glow. Unfamiliar thunder... but darken, thin, and shorten it, and it might resemble something known. Like the swordsmanship Haneul described—sparks flying like lightning. The Lightning Thirteen Sword Thunders took that form, which was why he'd bristled earlier. Real sparks had flown.

But this? Like wrathful Changgung's bolt.

'What the hell is that?'

—Crackle!

The delayed thunder chased the light. With it, Haneul's drawn wooden sword surged toward Namgung Pyo's blade.

"Huh?"

Not just Namgung Pyo, mid-chop—Namgung Hyeok knew that trajectory intimately too.

The first form of Lightning Thirteen Sword Thunders.

Realizing it, Namgung Hyeok thought: If that was real, his own was a laughable fake, not even half of half.

No helping it—that scene demanded the conclusion. Hell, no one there could even track the blinding speed. They registered only the thunder's roar. And the aftermath: Haneul's cackling laughter.

"Whew... Feels great!"

Krrrrrrumble—!!

Blue lightning cleaved the false Changgung.

......

... .

In the dark cave.

The man seated in meditation opened his eyes. He blinked for a long while, then slowly rose.

Just minutes ago, the Constellation's noisy messages had bombarded him nonstop. Now, silence. Not because it was busy or annoyed. The connection to the Constellation touching his upper dantian had clearly severed.

"...Hoo."

His face rigid, he twisted his stiff body this way and that. Each motion elicited ominous cracks echoing through the cave.

After loosening up, he peered at his reflection in a floor puddle. Even after brief seclusion, his frame was gaunt, barely able to take a step.

Undeterred, he gripped the sword leaning nearby. Worn and shabby, yet in his hand, it transformed into something sharp and sturdy.

Inspecting it, he naturally assumed stance and swung at empty air.

"Ha...! Haha!"

Once was enough. He sensed the change. That single swing held the blue heavens. Low and narrow, perhaps—but his face lit with joy.

For it was no painted fake, but true Changgung in his sword. Not borrowed from the Constellation's power, but drawn solely by his own.

"The Constellation was the shackle after all..."

Namgung Clan's guild master and Master. Sword Lord of Cleaving Heavens, Namgung Hwi.

He resolved to shed the embarrassing epithet before him.

"Time to meet that benefactor."

The seclusion to evade the Constellation was over. Now, as one pure martial artist, he set forth to find the one who granted him this fateful encounter.