Chapter 57
Chapter 57
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Translator: penny
Chapter Title: Forced Choice (2)
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Nangong Yun-ho gazed at the refined young nobleman who exuded an elegance unlike his own.
Little Sword Dragon Nangong Yong-ho.
His younger brother, who received the expectations of the entire family unlike himself.
Perhaps because of that, not a single wrinkle marred Nangong Yong-ho's face.
"Brother! How many years has it been?"
Watching his cheerful younger brother greet him, Nangong Yun-ho let a smile play on his lips.
"Yeah. Yong-ho. It's been a while."
"Haha. I never imagined we'd reunite after so long, not even when you entered Bronze Hall."
"You're right."
His younger brother, who hadn't even reached his chest before, had now grown to eye level with him.
"Are you fully back now?"
"I'm not sure."
"It's about time you came back. You've done enough, haven't you? It's time to give up."
It was good that his brother had matured, but the tone lacking warm consideration stung a little.
Pretending not to notice, Nangong Il-joon interjected.
"Yong-ho. How's Silver Hall treating you?"
Nangong Yong-ho's face, which had been laughing lightly until moments ago, clouded over.
"Well, it feels a bit low-level for someone like me."
"That makes sense. Your level surpasses Silver Hall."
"The students' skills are just too lacking. A few are barely passable, but that's it. Even if it's for adaptation, it's a real waste of time."
Nangong Il-joon joined in gleefully, as if it were his own achievement.
"Haha. Yun-ho, do you know? Your brother earned the nickname 'Ten-Stroke Killer' in the midterm exam."
Ten-Stroke Killer.
A fearsome moniker meaning he could bring opponents to their knees within ten techniques.
In contrast, what about himself?
'Ghost of Bronze Hall.'
His younger brother was still advancing far beyond anything he could compare to.
"Being called Ten-Stroke Killer among such low-level folks is nothing much..."
Even the nickname Ten-Stroke Killer seemed unsatisfactory to Nangong Yong-ho.
"Not just the students—even the instructors don't impress me anymore. Uncle, do I really have to stay in Silver Hall like this?"
"Even prodigies must spend a year in Silver Hall for adaptation, per the rules. Just like regular students pass through Bronze Hall."
Nangong Il-joon's voice sharpened unusually. How could he not know it was directed at him?
Whether aware or not, Nangong Yong-ho spoke bluntly.
"Brother, I heard Je-gal called the 'Instructor Slayer.' I get it now. It's infuriating to be taught by someone from an unknown sect, right?"
Nangong Yun-ho replied in a flat, emotionless voice to his confident brother's words.
"I see."
"What about you, Brother? I heard Bronze Hall is even worse. You've been there a while, so you should know."
What answer was he expecting?
Nangong Yun-ho gave his honest thoughts, as always.
"Bronze Hall is a cradle. A cradle where the unripe youths of the jianghu grow."
"There may be no famous names or renowned figures, but there's plenty to learn."
"If you're lucky, you might meet kind souls who warmly spoon-feed porridge to those unripe youths."
"For me, entering Bronze Hall was the greatest stroke of luck."
Nangong Yong-ho smirked as he listened.
"That's awfully grandiose! Heh heh heh."
"I'm just sharing what I felt."
As the conversation dragged on, Nangong Il-joon cut in.
"Alright, enough reunion talk. Yong-ho, head in and rest first. Starting tomorrow, the collateral branch folks will come to pay respects, so get some good sleep."
"Yes, sir."
Nangong Il-joon looked approvingly at Nangong Yong-ho, who nodded appropriately, then turned to Nangong Yun-ho.
"You. Stay behind. We have things to discuss."
Once Nangong Yong-ho left, an awkward silence filled the room with just the two of them.
After a long pause, Nangong Il-joon finally spoke.
"Yong-ho is already one of Silver Hall's top prodigies. Promotion to Gold Hall next year is all but certain."
"Is that so?"
"He broke through a place that usually takes two or three years in record time. Remarkable talent, unparalleled achievement."
"I see."
Nangong Il-joon seethed inwardly at his nephew's consistent curtness but didn't show it, pulling out his prepared words.
"You know what you have to do now, right?"
"......"
"I'll be direct. Leave the Divine Martial Academy as of today."
"......"
"I respect your wishes, but family comes first. As the older brother, even if you can't help your rising sibling, you shouldn't hold him back."
"......"
Seeing no response, Nangong Il-joon raised his voice slightly.
"This is your last chance. It may sound forceful, but it won't be a bad choice for you. I've highly evaluated your efforts and will assign you a fine master."
"A better master than Bronze Hall's instructors?"
"Of course. I guarantee it."
A smile finally crept onto Nangong Yun-ho's lips for the first time at the unwavering reply.
'He gets it now.'
But Nangong Il-joon's expectations shattered instantly.
"I refuse."
"What!"
"I refuse the offer."
Why on earth?
As bewilderment set in, Nangong Yun-ho spoke calmly, unshaken.
"Nothing Uncle can offer holds value to me."
"You... You... You dare ignore my command without regret?"
With all his efforts rendered futile, Nangong Il-joon flew into a rage.
"This is your final chance. Think carefully about my proposal!"
"I'll see you tonight."
Bam!
Nangong Il-joon slammed the table, rose abruptly, and stormed out with his sleeves flapping.
Nangong Yun-ho, arms crossed and eyes closed, remained silent long after he left.
As the sun set, lanterns began lighting up along the streets one by one.
Those finishing their day's work followed the lantern lights into inns or taverns, soon filling the air with lively, boisterous voices.
A truly peaceful scene.
"Hmm~ Hmm~."
Walking through it, he couldn't help but hum a tune.
"If only every day were like this."
A fat purse and leisurely routine.
"Just need a girl to make it perfect."
Maybe he'd run into a girl out playing during break?
His heart raced with thrilling imagination as he recalled memories.
"Come to think of it, the girl liked 'older' instructors, but she also fancied fateful encounters born of 'chance'."
He remembered clearly.
She never said it outright, but thinking of sudden developments...
'Was it when she was chased by the Five Poisons Cult's Poison Horse Demon?'
The Five Poisons Cult leader, Poison Horse Demon, cultivated the Corpse Poison Demonic Art.
Once perfected, it allowed him to spew various poisons from his hands—victims' wounds would fester, rot, and lead to death. An atrocious demonic art.
Back then, Poison Horse Demon had mastered it, turning even Sacheon Tang Clan experts into puddles of blood.
With his vicious hands and destructive personality earning infamy, he wouldn't leave alone the maiden hailed as the righteous sects' savior.
Determined to crush the righteous factions' hope, he lured her to the Coastal Cliffs' gorge and cornered her.
'Heard she suffered quite a bit.'
The unflappable maiden had nightmares for a long time—it said it all.
He didn't know the details.
Back then, they weren't life partners; they were rivals trying to kill each other, so he had no interest.
But one choice he considered his best: flying off the moment he caught wind of Poison Horse Demon's movements.
Not to save the righteous factions, of course.
They were enemies from the start.
His grievance was different.
- This bastard betrayed me?
He'd discovered the guy, always fawning as a loyal retainer, was actually a pawn of the Heavenly Revolt Society.
Furious, eyes bloodshot, he'd bellowed:
- You filthy traitor! Stay right there.
Having maintained some dignity back then, he recalled shouting profanities in elegant style as he flew off.
Spotting the Five Poisons Cult thugs attacking the righteous at the Coastal Cliffs, he charged right in.
"How is the leader here?!"
How? What kind of how?
He came to smash traitors' skulls.
"Evade! The Blood Demon's rampaging!"
Blood Demon, my ass!
This body was the lord of all demons, the root of supreme evil across ages.
The one and only sovereign under heaven.
The next memories were hazy.
"Argh! Sp-Spare..."
Crashing cliffs to kill.
Hurling boulders to burst them.
Chasing one by one to shatter skulls.
As the gorge filled with blood and flesh, Poison Horse Demon rushed over pale-faced.
"L-Lord. Hear me out just a moment."
"I'll listen."
Generously replying, he ripped off both arms.
"Keurk!"
Gouged out the eyes.
"Just need the mouth, right?"
Crunch.
"Kek!"
To prevent suicide, he smashed every tooth. Tongue alone suffices for talking.
Regrettably, the shock was too much; Poison Horse Demon died instantly.
"Tch. What was he gonna say?"
Regretfully, he tore off the head and flung it beyond the gorge.
'Ah. Not the point.'
His martial arts were lacking then, so rage overtook his sanity.
But one thing stuck clearly.
"Even you can be welcome at times like this."
The maiden's words.
Recalling it confirmed.
"Ah, if I run into the girl by chance again this time, I could make her fall even faster."
Not rampaging madly like before, but approaching gently—pretty high chance?
She might even throw herself at him at first sight.
His body tingled just imagining it.
"Ehehehehe."
What to do?
What if she falls for me at first sight? Imagination raced past confession and marriage to grandchildren visiting with partners.
Only grandsons visit.
Granddaughters stay with him forever.
"Man, can't even bear just thinking about it."
As he chuckled foolishly.
"Hmm."
His upturned lips flattened instantly.
"Ha. Ruining my good mood right on cue."
A small alley bending ahead.
Chu Un-hwi's lips curved into a cold smile as he glared into it.
"That guy's the one?"
Hidden in the alley's shadows, Yeom Gwang swallowed hard at the gleaming eyes beside him.
"Y-Yes, Brother."
"Tch. Just a kid. Can't handle one brat, so I have to step in."
"He's not to be underestimated. More cunning than he looks..."
"That's just for your level."
Yeom Gwang couldn't utter a word watching the curt dismissal.
It was only natural.
The man beside him was a powerhouse beyond his reach.
"Makes Ten Steps Swift Sword Ju Gyeom look like a joke."
Ten Steps Swift Sword Ju Gyeom.
This expert, who could decapitate foes within ten paces with one swift strike, ranked among Silver Hall's top five.
His martial prowess was impressive, but what cowed Yeom Gwang was that temperament.
"Opponent's lacking, but chance to wet the blade—gotta be content. A warrior's sword must never thirst for blood."
Fearless thirst for blood and recent jianghu battles as a veteran.
"Instructor Ju, shouldn't we avoid spilling blood? If he's badly hurt, an inspection will come."
At "inspection," Ju Gyeom grumbled, mood soured.
"Tch. Lucky bastard. In the jianghu, not this soft place, I'd have slain him in one stroke."
"Haha. In the harsh jianghu, surely."
His words sparked chatter among the other Silver Hall instructors.
"Break his limbs instead."
"How about crushing his dantian?"
"A nice slash on the face would be good too."
Despite the vicious suggestions, Ju Gyeom remained dissatisfied.
"A bit disappointing."
As he licked his lips with murderous glee.
"He's coming."
Yeom Gwang pressed a finger to his lips; all pressed against the wall.
Peeking out, the target approached.
Fifty paces.
His stuffy bangs were visible.
Thirty paces.
His oily face sharpened into view.
Twenty paces.
Shing.
The quiet sound of a sword drawn by finger.
Then.
Boom.
Yeom Gwang, waiting tensely, jolted at the wall's vibration.
'What sound is that?'
Boom.
Another wall-shaking thud.
Boom. Thud thud.
Ju Gyeom frowned at the intensifying vibrations.
"What the hell is that noise?"
"Ah, he's running!"
Because of the voice?
The approaching figure turned and fled.
"Chase him!"
As the fish slipped away, the shadows twitched.
That was the mistake.
Boom!
The wall they'd pressed against exploded, a massive fist bursting forth.