The Record of Nam Woo
Having confirmed that Lee Ja-ryong’s life signs had finally vanished amid the Beijing Rebellion, Namgung Woo let his arms hang limp with a hollow ache. It was the futility of having to erase with his own hands the one clue he had barely grasped. The crushing exhaustion of fully draining his lower and middle dantians for the first time. And the visceral shock of his first kill—the slaying of a being who had transcended humanity yet still wore a human shape.
Yet Namgung Woo did not drown in melancholy alone. Behind him, the ghostly veil was lifting, and through the gap he glimpsed a sky where the soft light of dawn had begun to glow. It felt as if the heavens themselves were offering comfort: You have gained hope through this. So Namgung Woo smiled.
His hands felt light. Not merely because his mind had settled, but because the literal weight had vanished. The sword blade shattered into fragments and scattered with a faint hiss. The iron powder danced wildly on the early-morning wind and disappeared. It had been a desperate battle in which he had poured every last ounce of his internal energy. He had driven the full essence of the Thirteen Lightning Flash Sword Thunder—extreme-yang energy paired with domineering sword strikes—into his foe. Anything less than a divine weapon was bound to break.
A sword was, after all, a consumable. No matter how dearly a martial artist cherished his blade, it would eventually wear down, grow dull, and reach the end of its life. Those that did not were called divine weapons or peerless instruments precisely because they had stepped beyond the ordinary.
It was a rather famous blade, yet it only lasted this long. Lee Ja-ryong’s sorcery must have been that formidable.
Rather than regret, he felt gratitude that it had endured at all. When he considered how the sword might have snapped midway through the fight had the Paeng family not prepared one for him, a belated chill ran down his spine even now that the battle was over.
With his internal energy spent, Namgung Woo simply watched as Gwak Dan and the newcomer cleaned up the aftermath. There was no place for him to lend a hand. Despite wounds that verged on mutual destruction, Gwak Dan had delivered the final blow to the Mangcheonhu. The newcomer, in turn, had taken over for the critically injured commander and butchered the Hou pouring from the Ghost Gate with overwhelming blade strikes.
The instant the newcomer raised his blade qi and sliced the Ghost Gate as if to cleave the sky itself, Namgung Woo felt the ghostly realm peel away from his skin.
“Is it… over?”
Lee Ja-ryong was dead. The Ghost Gate had closed.
His body—rebuilt upon reaching the Transformation Realm—had already recovered a trace of internal energy. Namgung Woo took heavy steps forward. This time they were not the weightless footwork of the Infinite Step, but the ordinary tread of a man.
“Hey there, young hero. You were something else.”
Gwak Dan, half-reclining against the Mangcheonhu’s corpse, lifted a hand in cheerful greeting as Namgung Woo approached.
“Your own condition looks far from good, Commander.”
“Well… it turned out that way.”
Namgung Woo decided to tax his already throbbing head one last time. A pale blue light filled his eyes as the Changnyeongmanan opened, calmly assessing Gwak Dan’s state.
Lower dantian completely pierced. Middle dantian half-shattered.
The golden uniform of the Jinyiwei was shredded, and from the wound beneath it, pitch-black stagnant blood bubbled and spilled. Namgung Woo drew a small wooden box from his robe—the recovery pill the Paeng family had given him.
“It’s the Qiankun Pill refined by the Paeng family.”
“Oh… now that’s a genuine treasure. Tell me, Blade Revered, did you already stake a claim on this young hero? Tsk, I was planning to recruit him for the Jinyiwei myself.”
“You can still joke in a state like that?”
Besides Namgung Woo and Gwak Dan, one more person stood on Mount Wanse. Blade Revered Paeng Hu-sang joined them only after confirming the Ghost Gate had completely vanished. Having run without rest from afar and thrown himself straight into battle, even a superhuman like him could not hide the deep fatigue etched on his face. Yet more than physical weariness, the knowledge that he had witnessed the end of a long-time acquaintance weighed far heavier on Paeng Hu-sang’s heart.
“A shame. If I could have entrusted my successor to that young hero, everything would have been perfect. The Paeng family truly has keen eyes. How on earth did they find such a rising star?”
“…It’s not something I meddled in. Ha-ryeong did call him her benefactor, but I never heard the full story.”
“Is that so? Then… hm, you may find yourself in quite a bit of trouble as well.”
Recalling Namgung Woo’s claim that he had been sent by the East Sea Peerless, Gwak Dan gave a weak chuckle. Each laugh brought a fresh trickle of dark blood from his lips.
“Young hero, keep the Qiankun Pill. It won’t do me any good anyway.”
“…Then—”
“What can you do? Even a supreme recovery pill would be pointless. Well, it might keep me breathing a little longer. But you saw it yourself—my body is already finished as a martial artist.”
“You’re simply going to accept death like this?”
“Yes. I have no lingering attachments. No wife, no children. I dedicated my entire life to martial arts and the imperial family. I’ve lived long enough. All that remained was the hope of a splendid death. This is that moment.”
Gwak Dan accepted his end with startling clarity. He had been obsessed with martial arts all his life and had devoted himself utterly to the imperial house. He had even forgotten his own family, treating the warriors of the Jinyiwei as his true kin. Therefore he felt neither regret nor sorrow. To fulfill his duty and then draw his last breath—for Gwak Dan, who had lived as a Jinyiwei warrior, it was the most honorable death imaginable.
“Take this.”
Gwak Dan pressed something he had been clutching tightly into Namgung Woo’s hand. It was the horn that had protruded from the Mangcheonhu’s forehead, ripped out by the root—an utterly grotesque demonic relic.
“This is…?”
“I tore it from the beast while killing it. A yoma whose black is nearly white. A priceless treasure. You blocked the disaster for us, so it’s only right that I give you this much.”
When Namgung Woo accepted the horn, Gwak Dan’s face relaxed into an expression of genuine relief, as though he had completed every last task.
“Blade Revered, I’m sorry, but I have nothing for you.”
“The debt the imperial family now owes me is more than enough.”
“Then I’m glad.”
Gwak Dan’s breathing was growing steadily more labored; his limit was clearly approaching. As the last flicker of life returned to his eyes, he dropped the playful banter and spoke with firm resolve.
“…Young hero, if you don’t wish to become entangled in this, leave now. Staying here will cost you your freedom from the imperial court.”
It might already be too late since he had encountered the East Sea Peerless, but Paeng Hu-sang’s influence could probably smooth that over. The position of patriarch of the Hebei Paeng Family carried weight, and today’s battle had placed the imperial family deeply in Paeng Hu-sang’s debt. Since the Blade King himself had declared the young man his daughter’s benefactor, he would surely watch over him.
“But……”
“I will serve His Majesty and die protecting the common people. I have no regrets.”
Seeing Namgung Woo hesitate, Gwak Dan gave a small, wry laugh. Righteous martial artists of the orthodox path could be frustrating at times, yet at moments like this one could sense their genuine goodwill.
To the comrade with whom he had crossed the threshold of death, Gwak Dan left one final request.
“Still, if it truly weighs on your mind, I have one favor to ask.”
“Please speak.”
“I have a disciple. The only one I taught my exclusive martial arts.”
Gwak Dan’s arts had been divided into two categories: the imperial techniques he had gained through service to the throne, and the secret style he had cultivated on his own. Many had learned the imperial arts under his guidance; no warrior in the Jinyiwei had escaped his instruction. But only one disciple had ever received his private teachings.
“He became obsessed with martial arts and threw himself into the Murim world. I don’t know where he is now. But if by chance… cough… you ever meet a man named Song Woo-jeol, look after him.”
The familiar surname struck a clear note in Namgung Woo’s memory. With that final request, Gwak Dan’s voice fell silent. The labored breathing stopped. He closed his eyes with a look of perfect satisfaction.
“…The world is about to become very noisy.”
The four supreme experts who had upheld the imperial family. The sudden vacancy left by two of them. Through this incident, the world would learn of the absence of the number one under heaven—the absolute restraint that had controlled the Murim. They would learn of the death of the peerless expert who had served as the Emperor’s first sword, exterminating rebels within the rivers and lakes.
The absolute prestige of the imperial house, once said to rival or surpass the entire Murim combined, was gone. In Paeng Hu-sang’s eyes, the collapsed balance of power and the turbulent future awaiting the Murim appeared with vivid clarity.
Yet that future had not yet arrived. Thinking of the immediate tomorrow, Paeng Hu-sang asked,
“What will you do now, young hero?”
“I’m not certain.”
“If, as our friend said, you dislike being tied to the imperial court, you may return to Tianjin with Ha-ryeong. I will handle the rest. You won’t receive immediate reward for your achievements, but I will make arrangements so you receive proper recognition later.”
Paeng Hu-sang did not know exactly what had transpired between Namgung Woo and the Hebei Paeng Family during his absence. The reason he had raced nonstop to Beijing was not a message from home, but something else entirely. Paeng Ha-ryeong had also withheld the details, afraid her father’s composure might break before battle. She had not learned any special voice transmission technique, and time had been short.
Still, having heard that the young man was his daughter’s benefactor, Paeng Hu-sang intended to extend every possible courtesy. Those who knew him well might have been shocked to see such consideration, but Namgung Woo neither knew nor cared to ponder it.
In a single night he felt he had lived through far too much. And in truth, he had. Now he simply wanted to rest.
“…I will entrust it to you.”
The longest night Namgung Woo had experienced since arriving in this world came to an end.
Nam Woo. Courtesy name unknown. Nickname: Mu.
Born in the third year of Gyeongtae. Origin unknown; confirmed to reside as a guest retainer of the Hebei Paeng Family.
Martial prowess far beyond his years. At minimum a high-level expert of the late Transcendent Realm; estimated to have reached the Transformation Realm.
First confirmed location: Pyeongyo County, Shanxi Province, where conflict with the Black Bear Gang occurred. Accompanied by Song Chae-ji, second daughter of the Song Family and disciple of the Hangsan Sect. Black Bear Gang Leader Hwang Mu-tak appears to be concealing something. Further investigation recommended.
Subsequently traveled with the Yo-pyeong Express Agency and participated in the closed-gate battle at Muan County. Connection with the Paeng Family presumed to have formed at this time.
…(Omitted)…
Overall assessment: friendly toward the imperial court. However, given his unclear origin and consistent tendency to conceal himself, optimism is unwarranted. Danger level judged as Low, upgraded to Medium due to personal strength. Attention level judged as Special High.
This record was compiled in the twelfth year of Seonghwa by Scribe Yu Byeok, based on intelligence from the East Depot and the Beggars’ Sect, together with testimony from the Grand Empress Dowager and Paeng Hu-sang.
“So who exactly was that man called Lee Ja-ryong?”
On the boat gliding peacefully down the Grand Canal toward Tianjin, Paeng Ja-ryeong posed the question. Namgung Woo, holding the white feldspar and opal he had taken from the mountain, answered calmly.
“I don’t know either.”
Before descending Mount Wanse, Namgung Woo had seen the altar Lee Ja-ryong created was made of opal and had immediately pressed Pyeong Cho-yul for answers. The cargo the Yo-pyeong Express Agency had transported was also white feldspar. Yet Pyeong Cho-yul knew nothing. He had simply trembled, terrified he might be implicated in the rebellion. Thanks to Namgung Woo’s contributions, the man would probably avoid execution, but any dreams of happy business expansion would have to wait while he endured thorough investigation.
Paeng Ja-ryeong had not truly expected a clear answer. He quickly shook off his disappointment and changed the subject. In truth, however, Namgung Woo had lied.
He knew exactly who Lee Ja-ryong was. The moment Lee Ja-ryong had opened the Heavenly Gate and forcibly widened Namgung Woo’s own, he had glimpsed the man’s memories for the briefest instant. Whether that was an effect of the Changnyeongmanan or the Gongryeong Taeheo Singong remained unclear.
And in those memories, Lee Ja-ryong had been called by another name.
Ju Gyeon-je.
Namgung Woo now knew the imperial lineage well enough. That name belonged to the only son and crown prince of Emperor Gyeongtae, who had once vied for the throne against Emperor Jeongtong. Yet Jeongtong had eventually reclaimed the crown, Gyeongtae’s line had fallen, and the imperial bloodline continued through Jeongtong’s son, Emperor Seonghwa.
But something was wrong.
I was told Gyeongtae’s defeat came because the son he named crown prince died at the age of six…
That explained why Lee Ja-ryong—Ju Gyeon-je—had called the current rulers false claimants and declared himself the true emperor. Yet Ju Gyeon-je was supposed to be dead.
Well, there’s no need to dwell on it right now.
Namgung Woo let the complicated thoughts scatter like leaves upon the gently flowing canal waters.