Chapter 48
Chapter 48
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Translator: penny
Chapter Title: Unexpected Family Visit (3)
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As Nangong Il-jun stepped out of the Divine Martial Academy, one of the Nangong Family warriors fell in beside him.
"Did you find out?"
"Yes, Patriarch. He hails from the Pure Sword Sect and was newly appointed as an entry-level instructor."
Nangong Il-jun's eyes gleamed as he examined the paper pulled from his sleeve.
"First-rate skill at such a young age in his twenties... bordering on peak first-rate, no less."
This was no level of prowess to emerge from a minor sect like the Pure Sword Sect.
"When did someone like this pop up? He wasn't on the instructor roster before, was he?"
"Well... he was a sudden recommendation, so it seems he was omitted from the reports."
"Who the hell recommended this guy anyway?"
"The Beggars' Sect."
"The Beggars' Sect?"
"It was Beggar Elder himself who personally vouched for him."
The Beggars' Sect. Beggar Elder.
Nangong Il-jun's face twisted at the utterly unexpected answer.
"If it's a recommendation from the Beggars' Sect, it'll be hard to brush him off."
The Beggars' Sect was a righteous faction that moved for justice over personal gain.
It stood alongside Shaolin as one of the most renowned for righteousness.
Beggar Elder, in particular, was famed among them as a true hero of the jianghu.
"Tch. What a pain."
"How did things go with the retainer?"
"That kid's gotten nothing but stubborn in the time I haven't seen him."
His nephew, whom he hadn't seen in ages, had changed quite a bit from before.
Gone was the boy who would bow his head at the mere sight of him. Now he stared straight ahead and spoke boldly.
"Well, let's see how long he can hold out. Still, better to nip this in the bud for certainty's sake."
Muttering to himself, Nangong Il-jun spoke coldly.
"Call Yeom Gwang."
***
Back at his villa, Nangong Il-jun brought out liquor he hadn't touched in a long while.
Geomnamchun.
It was from a renowned brewery in the southern provinces.
Glug glug.
Savoring the aroma that bloomed instantly as he poured it into his cup, Nangong Il-jun reflected on recent events.
"When I came here, I never imagined I'd run into him again."
In truth, his visit to Bronze Hall had been mere coincidence.
Nangong Yun-ho's existence had long faded from his memory.
Had it not been for the invitation from the Poison-Eye Divine Sword, famed as a jianghu legend, he wouldn't have bothered.
Thus, the unexpected encounter had been a shock.
"Number one hundred twenty-eight. Nangong Yun-ho."
How startled he'd been when his forgotten nephew stepped onto the sparring platform.
Followed by victory after victory in successive bouts.
He'd felt a twinge of unease then.
It wasn't much.
This was Bronze Hall, after all.
'Beating a bunch of little kids with tiny heads would be more embarrassing if he couldn't string together wins.'
Surprising, but he figured it could be smoothed over easily enough.
But things went awry from an unexpected quarter.
"Whoa! What phenomenal insight into the Divine Martial Swordsmanship! Incredible talent!"
A casual remark from White-Clothed Judge Seon In-hyeok had sparked it all.
"His grasp of the forms might even surpass mine."
Who was the White-Clothed Judge?
An ever-present name among the jianghu's top hundred masters, a pillar of the Murim Alliance.
Currently the Chief Supervisor of the Divine Martial Academy—a giant among giants.
With such a figure taking notice, how could alarm bells not ring?
"Student Nangong Yun-ho! Victory!"
And on top of that, his nephew boldly defeating even a Silver Hall student.
'Dangerous.'
His instincts whispered it.
So he'd hurried to seek out his nephew.
To persuade the late-bloomer back into line.
But the nephew was no longer the timid child who couldn't meet his eyes.
"Are you telling me to give up, after showing up out of nowhere?"
Even when offered a position in the family upon leaving the academy, the nephew shook his head.
"I'll handle my own affairs."
An unforeseen response.
In the end, frustration twisted Nangong Il-jun's words into barbs.
"You plan to block your little brother's path forward?"
Little Sword Dragon Nangong Yong-ho.
The Nangong Family's greatest prodigy, destined to lead the house one day.
The one sibling Nangong Yun-ho had truly cherished.
For the first time, his nephew reacted.
"Does me staying here block my brother's path?"
"Yong-ho will soon be named Heir. Don't you know the more you stand out, the more scandals will swirl?"
Murim families prized bloodline as much as martial prowess.
Treatment varied wildly between direct and branch kin, talent be damned.
In such a context, disinheriting the eldest for lack of talent and elevating the second son as Heir? That was prime gossip fodder.
'And we're no ordinary house—we're the supreme clan under heaven!'
Cruel or not, for the family's sake, Nangong Yun-ho had to be erased.
"You beat a Silver Hall student? Impressive for you, sure."
"But to the Nangong Family's direct bloodline, beating some nameless kid is no boast."
"Think of your age. You've improved a bit, but how far do you really think you can go?"
"Staring at reality beats chasing empty dreams if you want to grow up."
Nangong Il-jun pressed relentlessly.
All for the family, he told himself.
But the wavering nephew suddenly met his gaze squarely.
"...No."
"What?"
"I'm staying right here."
"You'll defy me?"
"I'll never leave this place."
Watching his nephew speak firmly and deliberately, Nangong Il-jun bit his lip.
'Yun-ho's changed.'
An ill omen.
Snapping from his reverie, Nangong Il-jun gripped his cup and muttered.
"Tch. Stubborn as a mule now."
He hadn't gotten the answer he wanted, but Nangong Il-jun wasn't worried.
"You refused the wine of favor and chose the cup of punishment yourself."
Slurp.
As he closed his eyes to savor the sharp tang, a voice came from outside.
"Squad Leader Instructor Yeom has arrived."
The corner of Nangong Il-jun's mouth twitched.
"Show him in."
A little rebellion was child's play to overturn.
***
Yeom Gwang knelt on the floor, swallowing hard.
"Hm. You read the winds well enough."
A graying middle-aged man regarded him approvingly.
Midday Sword Nangong Il-jun.
Under that gaze—the true power of the Nangong Family—Yeom Gwang held his breath in tension.
Yet a thrill coursed through him too.
'South Heaven Single Sword summoned me. Play this right, and I could turn my life around.'
He had a hunch why.
And sure enough.
After a long silence, Nangong Il-jun spoke.
"Squad Leader Yeom."
"Y-yes, great hero of the Nangong house!"
"I placed great trust in you, yet you disappoint me like this?"
Disappoint.
His heart sank at the ominous word.
Yeom Gwang stammered a rebuttal.
"H-how could I ever mean to disappoint you, sir?"
"As Squad Leader of Bronze Hall, you're the head of all instructors there. Yet you can't rein in one mere newbie, leaving me to worry. How could I not be disappointed?"
A low, level rebuke without heat.
'Just as I expected.'
Steadying his breath a few times, Yeom Gwang replied.
"If you're speaking of Instructor Chu Un-hwi, he was just lucky."
"Lucky?"
"Shady background, utterly reckless. But the guy's got insane luck, and for some reason, plenty of backers. Hard to take down."
"Sounds like a crafty one. Can't you just crush him with raw power?"
"W-well..."
As he faltered, Nangong Il-jun chuckled dryly.
"You've already clashed, I take it."
Yeom Gwang sensed his interest waning and hurried to respond.
"He ambushed me dirty. Caught me off guard..."
"So the Beggars' Sect doesn't recommend just anyone, eh?"
Beggars' Sect? Why bring them up?
Startled, he looked up to find Nangong Il-jun querying his ignorance.
"The Beggars' Sect recommended Instructor Chu."
"Gasp! The Beggars' Sect?!"
No wonder the punk had been rampaging unchecked—he had serious backing!
Yeom Gwang's face drained of color.
'Hold on. Did I just try to boot someone the Beggars' Sect endorsed?'
Cold sweat beaded as he realized his blunder.
Then came Nangong Il-jun's tsk.
"Tch tch. So spineless—how do you expect to handle big matters?"
"It's the Beggars' Sect, sir! Th-that's dangerous, isn't it?"
"No need to overthink it. If they truly valued him, do you think they'd shove him into lowly Bronze Hall?"
Though it demeaned his own origins, Yeom Gwang felt relief wash over him.
'Right. If the Beggars' Sect backed him for real, he'd be in Gold Hall, maybe even Silver.'
Unlike the reassured Yeom Gwang, Nangong Il-jun appraised him coolly.
'Long in the squad leader seat, and his body's gone to ruin. Forgotten how to fight—useless.'
Eying the protruding gut and flabby frame where muscle should be, Nangong Il-jun said,
"I'll give you one more chance. Handle my worry, and I'll reward you personally."
"B-but sir, I'm not sure I can take him alone."
"If you can't handle it solo, get help. Here."
Thud.
Yeom Gwang's eyes bulged at the pouch that dropped.
"What's this?"
"Enough to hire those who cherish you, no?"
Opening it revealed twenty gold taels.
Enough for a fine house. Greed lit Yeom Gwang's eyes.
"I-it's possible."
"Advance payment. You know what happens if you botch it, right?"
Yeom Gwang kowtowed furiously.
"I won't let you down!"
As he banged his forehead raw and bloody in fervor, Nangong Il-jun smiled in victory.
The smile of a winner with all pieces in place.
***
At that moment.
Chu Un-hwi, propping his chin by the window, scowled irritably.
"What's eating that guy now?"
Night had fallen over Bronze Hall.
With his sharp ears, Chu Un-hwi couldn't sleep amid the sounds from the darkness beyond.
Shing! Shwick!
Scree! Screeech!
Furious sword whistles rang out relentlessly.
From the training ground. Theirs—the gloomy one shared with his four students.
"At it all day."
It was Nangong Yun-ho, drilling forms without cease.
Not odd, given he always arrived first and left last. But the sword's tone was the issue.
"Training my ass... He's swinging like a man possessed."
What shift in mood could this be?
The kid rarely lost his temper.
He'd just chuckle at barbs from spoiled brats like Baek Ri-seol, blush at jabs from shorter trainees.
A total pushover.
So why?
"Is he that worked up?"
Silent sobs, or frenzied venting—Chu Un-hwi pondered briefly while gazing skyward.
"Ah, perfect moon tonight. No wonder emotions stir."
Thud.
Placing a foot on the windowsill, he added,
"Nights like this call for some fun."
Whoosh.
His figure had already soared twenty-odd zhang into the night sky.