Chapter 26
Chapter 26
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 26
Chapter Title: Sword Dragon (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
In his previous life, Yuseongil had claimed victory at the Dragon Phoenix Tournament with his overwhelming swift sword.
A man who had lived his entire life gripping a sword—it was perhaps an inevitable outcome.
So what had he done afterward? Where had he gone?
He had no interest in wealth or power. He wasn't even the type to chase fame. Had he been born into a peaceful world, he probably would have wandered as a ronin before walking the path of a righteous thief.
A life straight out of a folktale protagonist, in other words.
But reality was no fairy tale.
This Dragon Phoenix Tournament had been held to gather elites ahead of the war with the Demonic Cult from the start. There was no way the Murim Alliance would let talent like Yuseongil slip away.
I didn't know the full details, but in the end, he took command of the Dragon Phoenix Corps and stood on the battlefield.
That man was Yuseongil, the former captain of the Dragon Phoenix Corps. Back when I was a lowly foot soldier in the Murim Alliance, he had been my distant superior.
"We've both made it to the finals, so this must be fate. Since it's the last match, why not at least introduce ourselves?"
After long years, I faced him once more, standing in the same arena.
They say time softens memories. Maybe that's why, seeing his face after so long, I suddenly felt like chatting.
"Yuseongil of the Swift Sword Sect. And you?"
His curt response made a mockery of my nostalgic mood. One word, straight to the point.
Sigh, of course. What had I been expecting?
"Yi Sowol, fifth captain of the Lower Five Gates' escort unit."
"Captain... so, high rank?"
It was just a short, blunt reply devoid of eloquence, but unexpectedly, he seemed interested in what I'd said.
He probably didn't even know what the Lower Five Gates was. Maybe he was just intrigued by me.
"High if you call it that. But nothing worth bragging about."
"I have no such thing. So you're higher than me."
Being treated as a superior by the man who'd been my boss in my past life stirred strange feelings. Come to think of it, even back when he held the captaincy, he subtly minded rank.
'You're my subordinate. No casual speech.'
Back then, it had just seemed ridiculous. A guy who couldn't even use chopsticks properly, fussing over informal talk?
But looking back, it was his own sense of responsibility. Thrust into captaincy overnight, forced to watch his men die one by one—he bore it in his way.
Yuseongil was awkward with people because he'd never formed bonds. The Dragon Phoenix Corps became his first real connection in life.
The Murim Alliance's vanguard of several hundred. It was natural he'd feel anxious and burdened as their leader.
And that emotion turned to despair the moment, on his first campaign, he lost all but ten of his men.
"Titles don't matter here. What counts is whose sword is stronger. That's all."
Truth be told, Yuseongil lacked the capacity to lead. He had no talent for commanding large forces, and the Alliance knew it—that's why they assigned him to the Dragon Phoenix Corps, a meat shield unit.
A warrior's prowess and a commander's skill are worlds apart. But they couldn't just make the Dragon Phoenix Tournament winner a mere grunt, so it was a necessary choice for the Alliance.
Yet that dimmed the shine of the star called Yuseongil.
"I'll win."
Yuseongil gripped his sword, as if no more words were needed. The light he'd once lost welled in his eyes, as if to prove he was a star once more.
"Then, let the Dragon Phoenix Tournament finals begin!"
The judge's shout, louder than usual, plunged the stage into silence.
We steadied our auras and took our stances.
As always, Yuseongil shifted his weight forward excessively, ready to unleash his swift sword. I mirrored him, poised to charge.
Swift sword countered by swift sword.
The difference? He held his sword straight; I gripped mine in reverse grip, preparing to draw.
Reverse grip isn't common. It's not ideal for swinging, and it shortens reach.
Using it for swift sword techniques was near impossible.
The watching warriors eyed me like, What the hell is he thinking?
But on stage, we were calm.
The ball was thrown; all that remained was giving our all.
His face brimmed with absolute confidence.
Flutter.
Thud!
The match began, and we rushed each other.
Almost simultaneously—but our speeds differed.
Yuseongil closed distance first and drew.
By the time I drew, his blade tip was already flying at me.
'I've won.'
He must have thought so.
His swift sword ended the moment it was drawn—overwhelming.
No ordinary block or dodge would work.
But I ignored the incoming blade, stomped once more, lowered my body, and dove in.
Slash!
My accelerated body slipped precisely through the gap in his sword light.
Faster than the sword, every nerve focused.
Clink.
His sword cleaved empty air. My tip rested against his torso.
Yuseongil was an honest man. Or rather, pure. He had a childlike side, regardless.
After losing most of his men on first deployment and getting replacements, his first thought was to protect them.
But that wasn't the right mindset for a general. In war, soldiers are expendable. Wasting tears on disposables is futile.
Yet he truly wanted to save them.
He taught basics to those ignorant of martial arts, charged ahead against Demonic Cultists in battle. He was the one who first awakened my martial spirit in my past life.
Not the Mad Demon's techniques, of course. Martial arts are a warrior's life; you don't hand them out lightly.
Just basic heart methods and sword forms from the Alliance. But even that made him my master then.
Though I died before a month passed, learning little.
He was strong. Even against dozens of Demonic Cultists, his swift sword shone on the field. No one could touch him, and he never lost.
Ironically, that swift sword led to his death.
Demonic Cultists are mostly mad. They value doctrine over life, hesitate not to throw themselves away.
Unable to block his swift sword, they chose mutual destruction.
Timing their death plunge as his sword came, extending their own.
Not easy. Countless failed, dying unscathed by him.
But after dozens of tries, their obsession reached him.
The man who'd crushed countless experts to win the tournament died absurdly, chest pierced by an nameless Cultist's sword.
"Winner: Yi Sowol of the Lower Five Gates!"
"Waaaaaaaaah!!"
The finals ended in one exchange, shaming the name. But the crowd cheered wildly for me, the one who'd broken Yuseongil's swift sword with my own.
"That sword...?"
Right after, Yuseongil approached, asking about the blade that beat him.
A lifetime devoted to swift sword—first time losing in speed. Natural curiosity.
"Reverse Light Counter Sword. Conceived thinking that if you dodge any sword with utmost speed, you can survive any fight."
Blood Heaven Asura Art's Reverse Light Counter Sword—born from recalling Yuseongil's death in my past life.
To fix the defenseless flaw in his Light Martial Swordplay: accelerate twice, dodge on the second step.
Reverse grip linked evasion to counter seamlessly. Far from peak swift sword.
But that was fine. My goal wasn't world's fastest draw or greatest warrior.
"A sword for survival. Intriguing."
I'd wanted to show him this if we met again. That you don't have to be the fastest, or throw yourself in blindly.
Just survive.
"Gotta live for tomorrow, right?"
I pondered why he'd had to grow so strong.
Neglected by parents as a child, he'd blamed himself with his personality.
His immaturity, his weakness kept their love away.
Even hearing they were killed by some master, or watching subordinates die—he'd internalized it all.
Wrong thinking. No expert, famed or not, bears responsibility for others' deaths.
Not even me, the past life's greatest.
So in this life, I wished him happiness. He'd lost his light too soon—a star too bright.
"The Dragon Phoenix Tournament champion is Yi Sowol of the Lower Five Gates!"
"Yi Sowol! Yi Sowol! Yi Sowol! Yi Sowol!"
The judge named me, and the crowd chanted my name, shaking the arena. Not a bad feeling.
Now, with me as champion instead of him, no captaincy, no absurd death.
Not fully relieved, but one worry down.
As crowds roared my name, I offered Yuseongil my hand. He looked relieved, content.
"Congrats on the win."
Maybe he never wanted victory. Just to clash swords and hands with someone.
Seeing his brightest smile yet, I thought so.
"Great hero, congratulations on the Dragon Phoenix Tournament win!"
"Congratulations."
Unhak and Namgung Cheon gathered, offering cheers. The stage buzzed chaotically.
And then.
"Congratulations on your victory. Azure Righteous Sword—no, Sword Dragon now fits better."
Unnoticed, Murim Alliance Leader, Tyrannical Heavenly Martial Emperor Yi Hyeonbaek, approached me.