Chapter 6
Chapter 6
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: Nine Deaths One Life (6)
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After that, things proceeded smoothly. Moyong Hyeon first apologized to me repeatedly for the rudeness Moyong Sua had shown. It seemed he blamed himself as her older brother for not stopping her.
Even so, he entrusted her to my care, handed over a considerable amount of wealth, and set off again. Regardless of anything else, one thing was clear: the Moyong Clan was far from normal right now.
If things had been proceeding normally, no matter that I was his lifesaver, there would have been no reason for the clan's young lord, Moyong Hyeon, to entrust his young blood relative to someone like me, practically a total stranger.
The reason I'd met Moyong Hyeon in the first place was because I'd saved him from an assassin's attack. I didn't know the details, but something was definitely going on.
And from my position, where I wanted to maintain ties with the Moyong Clan as much as possible, there was no way I could refuse a request from the clan's young lord. My talent wasn't that high.
At best, I was in the middle-low ranks. If I'd been one of those protagonists from martial arts novels with incredible innate talent, I would've reached the pinnacle long ago, whether with the Three Disasters Sword Art or the Divine Arts of the Heavenly Demon.
That said, I hadn't given up on the path. Twenty-five years ago—back when the old man who saved me taught me the Three Disasters Sword Art—I vowed to master it perfectly.
'No regrets on the path I've chosen. I just have to press forward without wavering, giving it my all.'
That resolve hadn't changed. But why stubbornly dig only one well? If possible, learning other martial arts as references would surely aid my training.
That's why I wanted to keep ties with the Moyong Clan. It wasn't some ragtag sect—it was one of the Five Great Clans, a pillar of the orthodox Murim Alliance.
No need to mention their hereditary secret arts passed down through generations. Even the less important ones were never taught to outsiders—that was the way of the martial world.
'Better to build up this debt now and cash it in later. Not a bad deal.'
Up to that point, it wasn't bad. But then an entirely unforeseen problem tripped me up. For twenty-five years, I'd honed only the Three Disasters Sword Art.
In other words, I knew nothing else—not even the basics. I'd never even had the chance to encounter other arts. The old man had promised to teach me more once time passed.
But he died suddenly after just two years of my training. Of course, the knowledge was in my head. Things like the Nangong Clan's Soaring Heaven Sword Art or the Mount Hua Sect's Plum Blossom Sword Art.
But that just meant I knew they existed—not that I could perform their forms. In fact, I'd tried before.
Unfortunately, they all failed. Even if they shared names across novels, the descriptions varied wildly. I tried to mimic them crudely, but I couldn't even grasp where or how to begin.
To sum up the rambling: I had to guide Moyong Sua with only the Three Disasters Sword Art.
Could I really satisfy a golden child who'd seen and learned only the best from the Moyong Clan with just that? Surprisingly, my worries turned out to be unfounded.
"I'll make one thing clear. I have no intention of taking you as my master."
This was thanks to Moyong Sua's outright declaration, like a declaration of war, the moment Moyong Hyeon left for the clan. I was a bit surprised, but I had no reason to refuse.
I only knew the Three Disasters Sword Art anyway. Forcing it on her would just expose my shallow depths. I desperately held back a grin and said,
"Do as you like."
"...Is that all?"
"Learning ultimately depends on oneself. Forcing it achieves nothing and just wastes both our time."
Whoops, was I too agreeable? As Moyong Sua eyed me suspiciously, I racked my brain for plausible words to dispel her doubts.
There was no reason to feel guilty, but it wasn't something to boast about either. If I'd only reached the pinnacle—or even initial pinnacle—with just the Three Disasters Sword Art,
I might have bragged a bit. Fortunately, she seemed swayed by my words. Moyong Sua bowed her head and said,
"Thank you for understanding."
"It's fine. Everyone has their circumstances."
"In return, while I'm here, I'll do everything to die by your hand."
"...What did you just say?"
For a moment, I thought I'd misheard. Especially since her tone had softened considerably from my persuasion. But no.
"A warrior defeated in a fight to the utmost has no right to live, correct? If I can't defeat you while I'm here, then please cut off my head yourself."
I'd heard right the first time.
"What nonsense is that? Who taught you to say such things?"
"My father. No, the patriarch."
She uttered such shocking words from her young mouth without a care, even looking at me like I was the strange one. What? I knew she was from the Moyong Clan,
but why did her words and actions feel so demonic cult-like?
No, more than that.
"I'm thirty this year."
I'm not an old man.
"...Pardon?"
Moyong Sua's mouth fell open so wide I wondered if her jaw might actually drop.
...Was it that shocking?
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The law of the jungle.
The weak being devoured by the strong is the cycle of nature, and for humans to return to that primal cycle is the proper way. This was the teaching of Sua's father, the Moyong Clan patriarch.
Martial arts exist for that primal cycle and righteous truth, and using this enlightenment to guide the ignorant world onto the correct path is the Moyong Clan's new heavenly mandate.
If Moyong Hyeon had heard it, he would've been horrified and tried to dissuade her. Unfortunately, Sua was still too young to judge right from wrong. She'd been taught this way since childhood.
Because Father told her to, because he looked at her and loved her as a father. For Sua, who lost her mother early and was lonely, it was an unbreakable lifeline.
"But keep it secret from the clan members. The time isn't right yet."
"Why bow our heads in fear when doing what's right?"
"Taegong Mang didn't enter office until seventy, studying instead. But later, he caught King Wen's eye, was appointed, and became the founding lord of Qi. Everything has its time."
Of course, the patriarch didn't forget to seal her lips. So he could use Sua as his sword when the time came. But there was an unforeseen variable.
"Useless branches growing wild suck the great tree's nutrients. Wouldn't pruning them before the tree falls actually benefit the clan?"
"You're right, Sua."
"Father!"
"Yes, make your brother understand. He's such a weakling."
No matter how much he sealed lips, people's thoughts and values inevitably show in words and actions. Moyong Hyeon sensed the inconsistency in Sua's speech and deeds, and ultimately chose rebellion.
He first separated his young sister Sua from the patriarch to protect her. And Sua had only been told to keep it secret from clan members.
She wasn't told not to tell outsiders. This was because the isolated Moyong Clan hadn't anticipated her encountering others.
Since a bloodbath would erupt soon anyway. But before that, Moyong Hyeon had spirited Sua away to Nameless, leading her to spill everything without reservation.
"A warrior defeated in a fight to the utmost has no right to live, correct? If I can't defeat you while I'm here, then please cut off my head yourself."
She, a mere second-rate, had no chance of winning. Sua knew that better than anyone, bone-deep. But she had to say it.
Because that's what she'd been taught.
Because she'd been taught it was the righteous path.
She wasn't just spouting empty words. Sua was staking her life in earnest. But as she prepared for a deathmatch, Nameless's response threw her into shock.
"I'm thirty this year."
"...Pardon?"
"It's true."
Sua quietly closed her mouth and looked at Nameless. She saw his snow-white hair and beard, the deep wrinkles like cliffs, crisscrossed by large and small scars.
...No matter how she looked, he seemed a veteran who'd seen it all. But gazing into those unwavering eyes,
Sua didn't feel his words were lies.
And that fact was enough to turn her shock into astonishment. Of course, his extreme youthful appearance accounted for quite a bit—but only about thirty, no, twenty percent.
Then the remaining eighty percent was...
'Pinnacle realm at just thirty?!'
Yes. More astonishing than his youthful looks was reaching the pinnacle at thirty. The pinnacle was the apex of all realms, an unshakeable, steadfast state.
Beyond merely understanding the subtleties in forms, one's own enlightenment became the form's ultimate essence. The sharp sword energy that lightly cleaved even first-rate protective auras was proof of that peak.
Thus, pinnacle experts were so rare that even the Five Great Clans—pillars of the Murim Alliance—had at most one or two. And most were at least fifty.
Of course, history had pinnacle masters who reached it younger. But they were the ones who etched massive marks in the martial world's long history.
Realizing this, Sua noticed her head was tilted skyward. The insignificant old man from the back room was gone. In his place stood a towering mountain.
At the sight of that lofty peak,
Sua felt a wall for the first time in her life.