Chapter 164
Chapter 164
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Translator: penny
Chapter Title: What is a Grandmaster of a Generation? (1)
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Tak.
Nangong Musan set down his brush after finishing the letter to the Murim Alliance.
"Now it begins."
The Nangong Family had a chance to soar once more after a decade.
It was also the time to show off the achievements from his secluded training to the entire martial world.
"Mangcheon Society..."
Feeling the heavy responsibility, Nangong Musan spoke to Nangong Chan, who was still gazing out the window.
"Father. We're almost at Little Sword Peak."
"...I see. No wonder the scenery looked familiar."
"It seems we'll be quite busy for a while."
"That makes sense. With the head of the great Nangong Family gracing us with his presence, many in the martial world will be on edge."
Heh heh heh heh.
Nangong Musan composed himself as he watched his father jest.
"Before that, I have something to ask."
"Me?"
"This is a stage where our family will demonstrate its renewed strength after a decade. Is there anything I must not forget?"
Nangong Musan voiced his inner concerns.
"I fully understand that the Mangcheon Society isn't to be taken lightly."
There are no worries.
Our family is the best in the world, and I am confident in the fruits of my seclusion.
"However, since I'm stepping forward in the name of Nangong, I intend to avoid even the smallest mistake."
What should I keep in mind for that?
Nangong Chan smiled gladly at his son's question.
"Heh heh. You're starting to show the bearing of a family head."
Then let me ask you.
"What do you think a supreme expert is?"
"A warrior who cuts down enemies with a single sword stroke and maintains an undefeated record."
"Then what is a grandmaster of a generation?"
"Someone who takes responsibility for a single family or sect."
"Correct. They are beings who forge the history of a generation."
What you must become from now on is not a lone brave expert, but a grandmaster who establishes a generational family legacy.
Nangong Chan continued sternly.
"A supreme expert who stands alone in the world carries only the value of their own life on their shoulders. But a grandmaster of a generation bears responsibility for much more."
They are fundamentally different.
"What do I need to become a grandmaster of a generation?"
"Abandon your competitive spirit."
"My competitive spirit?"
Nangong Musan looked surprised at the unexpected words.
Wasn't competitive spirit the drive that propelled a warrior to higher realms?
"Next, let go of your desire for victory."
"Even desire for victory?"
"Yes."
"Isn't the desire for victory something every warrior must have?"
But Nangong Chan's answer was 'no'.
"Where do you think a grandmaster of a generation should stand?"
"If they are the strongest, shouldn't they naturally lead from the most dangerous front lines?"
"That is merely the bravery of a common soldier."
Bravery of a common soldier.
Dismissing it as the reckless audacity of the lowly, Nangong Chan pointed out.
"Have you ever seen a great general at the forefront of a battle?"
"No, I haven't."
A great general is like the brain directing the troops.
Not the one swinging a sword at the front, but the one overseeing grand strategies from afar in the command tent.
"There were those who boasted bravery at the front."
But they ultimately died by the blades of nameless foot soldiers.
"The famous Overlord Xiang Yu was like that, and Lü Bu of the Three Kingdoms era too."
Nangong Chan's words continued.
"A grandmaster of a generation is the same. Rather than being obsessed with personal victories and defeats, they must devise grand strategies to complete a hundred-year plan."
That is why competitive spirit and desire for victory must be the first things set aside.
"Have a cool head rather than hot blood."
That is what a grandmaster of a generation is.
"......"
Nangong Musan fell deep into thought.
Sasasasak.
The sound of wind reached his ears.
Even feeling the presences landing one by one behind him, Chu Un-hwi didn't spare them a glance.
"......"
It didn't matter who came or how many followed him.
Fighting was always a lonely affair.
If there were followers, good; if not, that was fine too.
The former meant less hassle without tiring limbs, the latter allowed unrestrained rampage.
"......"
His focus was solely on the darkened ferry landing.
The only place where enemies might be.
How long had he been watching?
"M-My lord."
Flutter.
A pitch-black bandage fluttered down beside him, carrying the scent of blood.
"It's certain. Suspicious bastards are gathering there."
Not entirely certain.
"Time was too tight."
Chu Un-hwi only moved his lips in response to Dan-ya's dejected words.
"That's the place."
He could feel the unpleasant aura.
"Did you check the faces coming and going?"
"Yeah. Quite unexpected."
Dan-ya carefully laid out what she had investigated.
"I thought it would be unorthodox sect scum stirring, but surprisingly, it was righteous faction guys."
"I see."
Not surprising.
The Mangcheon Society's collaborators didn't discriminate between righteous or evil.
"The main body?"
"Probably not. But with demonic old monsters moving, the main body will show soon enough."
"I can trust Uncle Sima."
Uncrossing his arms, Dan-ya moved her bandages to point to one side.
"They're crafty ones. Seems they've dug several secret passages just in case."
"I'll leave that side to you."
Flutter.
Loosening his long robe, Chu Un-hwi stepped forward.
The smell of blood hung thick in the air everywhere.
The Desert Assassins' New Eight Masters tensed up.
"Gulp."
This was their first assassination mission since leaving the desert.
They had unfortunately missed the previous Night of a Hundred Ghosts. But the seniors who attended spoke of it.
- We were the hundred ghosts.
The seniors' faces, as they reminisced about being ghosts themselves, showed faint awe.
- No, it was fortunate we were the hundred ghosts.
It was a reaction so exhilarated it made one question if these were the same people who always suppressed emotions like machines.
Thus, they set aside everything and headed here.
With great expectations for tonight's ghostly parade.
"Gulp."
But the tension was unavoidable.
Having personally scouted the Mangcheon Society's branch, he knew how strong the foes inside were.
More than anything, unlike their scant handful, a considerable number lay in wait.
To face nearly a hundred with just a dozen or so.
In a frontal clash, no less, something assassins weren't accustomed to.
'I might die here.'
A strange mix of tension and excitement made cold sweat seep from his sword-gripping hand.
'Pathetic for an assassin.'
He couldn't disappoint the master of the hundred ghosts.
'Control your emotions.'
It was as he began deep breaths.
Thud.
Surprisingly, the master of the hundred ghosts stepped out first.
The Valley Lord, called the Desert's Grim Reaper, followed quietly behind.
The senior assassins did the same.
'The master first?'
To Pal-ho, who had only seen targets hiding in the safest spots during missions, this scene was hard to comprehend.
But it somehow felt fitting.
Flutter. Flutter.
His trailing robe flaps billowing in the night wind, cheap iron sword dangling casually.
Yet an illusion of a massive mountain followed, making him seem incredibly reliable.
'Damn. My mistake.'
As Pal-ho berated himself for spacing out and hurried to follow.
"Young ghosts, are you?"
The master's voice reached him.
"Tonight's fight will be quite grueling."
There will be enemies too much to handle.
"But worry not. You'll only face enemies you can handle."
Just keep one thing in mind.
"Don't fall behind."
When the humming voice, like a tune, blended into the night wind, Pal-ho found himself nodding instinctively.
"Come. Show me, young ghosts."
Can you truly set foot in the darkness?
At the master's playful words, Pal-ho gripped his sword tightly.
The master opened the fray.
Walking straight to the hall, he placed a hand on the firmly shut door and spoke.
"You don't expect even a greeting from uninvited guests, do you?"
Kwang!
The massive gate, a foot thick, shattered with a groan and flew inward.
Kwaduduk.
The light gesture revealed immense power as one doorframe tilted, spilling roof tiles with a waduduk.
'Already?'
The young ghosts, following entranced, realized their bloodbath had begun with the roar.
At that moment, figures leaped from the hall's roof like raptors.
'They were waiting?'
Pak pak pak pak!
A group of experts shot through the air with astonishing lightness skills, slicing with bisecting momentum.
Seu aaa!
The sword auras blooming at their tips were no joke.
"Kuhahaha! We've come to greet you!"
With the ghost-like Valley Lord's shout, dozens of bandages soared, piercing enemies, but their numbers were many.
Pal-ho drew his sword upon seeing eight figures hiding behind blades aimed at his throat.
'I'll die.'
But he'd cut them down.
The moment he resolved, the leading master flicked his flowing sleeve.
Sreung.
A beautiful silver line traced through the air.
'An illusion?'
It was a scene of ethereal beauty, like a dream.
But what it wrought was far from beautiful.
Pal-ho saw four figures charging him caught on the line's path.
Puhwahwak!
Half the assailants turned to blood and flesh chunks in an instant.
Hudu duduk.
Bathed in splashing blood and meat, Pal-ho understood the master's words.
- You'll only face enemies you can handle.
'So that's what he meant.'
Four enemies remained.
Still formidable, but he trusted the master.
'I can do it.'
He wouldn't be a burden.
Shek! Shik!
With fierce resolve, Pal-ho unleashed sharper strikes than ever, meeting the aerial assailants.
Dang! Datang!
Entangled with four, Pal-ho's hands wove wildly horizontal and vertical.
Sword lights trailing his blade clashed with their swords, ringing metal ceaselessly.
"Hup! Hup!"
No room for leisure.
The master was omnipotent, but apparently not benevolent.
He'd left only barely manageable foes, and any lapse meant death—Pal-ho realized this.
Diding datang!
Puk! Puk puk!
"Guk!"
Two assailants, pierced through gut, back, and heart in life-risking attacks, collapsed.
Two left.
"Y-You bastards!"
"Cha at!"
Saa aak!
Wung wung wung!
Facing opponents each manifesting blue sword auras, his spine chilled.
Forcing frontal combat on assassins who sought openings wasn't ideal.
But he recalled again.
- You'll only face enemies you can handle.
'Enemies I can handle.'
Faith in the master moved his body.
It made him abandon assassin ambushes for true clashes of power.
Chaeng! Chaeng chaeng!
As expected, they were strong.
In a normal mission, he'd deem it a failure and seek another chance.
But the master said.
'He'll leave only ones I can handle.'
Unfathomable blind trust drove him.
The result was the enemies' deaths.
Puk.
"Keuruk."
Puk puk.
"Pihik."
Throwing himself into their strikes, he punched holes through throats and lungs.
Puk puk puk puk.
Beside him, other young assassins felled their foes.
'Got them. I did it.'
Against famed swordsmen of Little Sword Peak, no less.
As he watched the enemies foaming blood and expiring, emotion swelling.
"Oops."
Kwang!
A wall crumbled entirely; seeing the faint back vanishing beyond, Pal-ho snapped to.
'Now I get why he said not to fall behind.'
More than slaying stronger foes.
'Isn't it far more grueling?'
Shaking off small triumph, Pal-ho hastened his steps once more.
Inside the ornate carriage.
Nangong Musan, pondering deeply, nodded slightly.
"I see."
Bravery of a common soldier.
"Instead of leading charges and showing off heroics, gauge grand strategy with a cool head."
"Haha. You've finally shed the warrior mindset and opened your eyes to the battles of a family head."
Having grasped a thread of enlightenment, Nangong Musan nodded vigorously.
"I've understood the mindset of a grandmaster of a generation."
Then let me ask the next.
"What is the battle of a cool-headed grandmaster?"
Nangong Chan answered the question.
"Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain."