Chapter 92: The Sword Emperor, It Will Be Like a Dream
The Sword Emperor, It Will Be Like a Dream
Chapter 92: The Sword Emperor, It Will Be Like a Dream
The Sword Emperor sighed as soon as he sat down after acknowledging the greetings from his juniors.
"Honestly, Senior. Everything's fine, but could you drop the 'darling' bit? I've already lived half a century."
The Mad God responded indifferently.
"What's it to you? To me, you still look like the youngest."
"I have more juniors than seniors now."
"Right. Congratulations. Our youngest now has more juniors. Hahahaha..."
The "youngest" the Mad God referred to was the youngest among the renowned orthodox martial artists who had participated in the Five Spirits Grand War. Back then, the Sword Emperor truly had been the youngest.
Yet, the Sword Emperor of that era was one of the few orthodox masters who commanded respect.
He was also one of the very few undefeated swordsmen in the martial world. Though that undefeated record came with a caveat—he wasn't the strongest swordsman under heaven, not with the Sword God and the Sword Saint around. But there was one thing his seniors and juniors unanimously acknowledged: he surpassed them all in one skill.
Pursuit Arts.
This was why the Sword Emperor always wandered alone.
His Lightfoot Technique was so exceptional that he could flee from any unfavorable situation. If he simply ran away and disappeared, his enemies might breathe easy—but then, like a vengeful ghost, he would track them down and ambush them.
An ambush from the Sword Emperor, no less.
By the time he returned, he would have already analyzed his opponent's martial techniques and weaknesses. In the blink of an eye, he would devastate them before vanishing again.
This pattern earned him the epithet "Iron Blood Sword Emperor."
So much so that a saying spread through the martial world: Among all the men who flee, the strongest is the Sword Emperor.
The Twelve Demon Blades knew it. Even during the Five Spirits Grand War, it had been the same.
Yet despite nearing fifty, the Mad God's nickname for him hadn't changed at all.
The Sword Emperor spoke to the Mad God.
"What brings you back to the martial world? I thought I'd never see you again."
The Mad God replied,
"If I've returned, the reason should be obvious. Even our darling junior's hair is streaked with white now. Still not married?"
The Sword Emperor answered,
"What kind of fool who lives by the sword gets married?"
The Mad God asked,
"Still can't forget Demon Immortal?"
"Who could forget Demon Immortal?"
Demon Immortal was a master who had died during the Five Spirits Grand War, the senior disciple of the previous White Dragon Gate Leader—making her the martial sister of the current leader, Joo Yeon-wol. Beautiful, formidable, and radiant in personality, she had been the object of admiration for many men.
The Mad God casually prodded at the Sword Emperor's sore spot, and the Sword Emperor responded just as casually. They knew each other's wounds well.
The Sword Emperor turned to Cheol Myung-ho, Baek Yak, and Dan Woo-sung.
"Tell me your names or titles. I'm just called the Sword Emperor these days. I've discarded my name."
When Demon Immortal died, he had abandoned his name—along with many other attachments in life. In a way, all that remained for him now was the path of the sword.
"Cheol Myung-ho."
"Baek Yak."
The Sword Emperor looked at Dan Woo-sung.
"And you?"
The Mad God introduced him.
"The Fist King's disciple."
The Sword Emperor nodded.
"Ah, Woo-sung's disciple. A pleasure."
Hearing his name spoken so warmly by the Sword Emperor made it difficult for Dan Woo-sung to maintain his composure.
"I'm Lee Jin-eon."
"Lee Jin-eon? I've heard that name. Ah, you're the junior from the merchant group the Sect Leader mentioned."
The Mad God grinned and asked,
"How does he compare to the Fist King?"
The Sword Emperor answered immediately.
"Woo-sung was stronger than the world knew. But his disciple is remarkable too. Did you also teach him, Senior?"
The Mad God shook his head.
"Of course not. His rotten personality just suited mine."
The Sword Emperor smiled.
"Naturally. To get along with you, Senior, one must have a terrible personality like mine."
The Mad God conceded.
"Exactly. You'd need a title like 'Iron Blood' to match me."
When the Sword Emperor held out his cup, Dan Woo-sung poured tea for him.
The Sword Emperor then revealed an old secret even Dan Woo-sung hadn't known.
"Woo-sung kept challenging me, but I deliberately avoided accepting."
Dan Woo-sung stared intently at the Sword Emperor. He had never understood why the Sword Emperor had evaded him—until now, when the reason flowed so naturally from the man himself.
The Sword Emperor continued.
"As you know, your master's martial arts had no concept of restraint. He broke the legs of a few Taoists during a duel with the Kunlun Sect and made enemies. Fought fiercely with the Zhongnan Sect too. Could you even call those duels? They were brawls. Your master had many enemies even among the orthodox factions. Above all, his martial arts weren't suited for formal duels. And since neither Woo-sung nor I could claim to be the strongest under heaven, dueling would've been somewhat meaningless. I never bothered to explain all this before—but now that he's gone, I miss him. Regret lingers. Ours was a difficult friendship."
The Sword Emperor's voice was tinged with melancholy as he sipped his tea, unable to rise. It seemed memories of the Fist King weighed heavily on him.
Dan Woo-sung exhaled briefly as he listened to tales of his past life. To him, a duel meant a fight to the death. Even within the orthodox factions, perspectives differed—he had no intention of calling others wrong for their views.
"I've heard the same," Dan Woo-sung said.
The Sword Emperor asked,
"Senior, shall we have a drink? Are you busy?"
The Mad God looked startled.
"You? Drinking? You really have aged. The man who only ever drank water."
The Sword Emperor turned to Cheol Myung-ho.
"Order some alcohol, will you?"
After speaking, the Sword Emperor closed his eyes briefly. The Mad God clicked his tongue.
"There he goes again."
He explained to the juniors why the Sword Emperor had shut his eyes.
"It's called the Free Gaze. A martial art that employs the Mind's Eye. A rare Taoist technique. With his eyes closed, he's distinguishing your energies. They say it's the hardest technique to master in his lineage."
True to the Mad God's words, the Sword Emperor used the Free Gaze to memorize the energies of Dan Woo-sung, Cheol Myung-ho, and Baek Yak. Since each person's energy had a distinct shape and form, the Sword Emperor's method of identifying people was truly unique. Once he locked onto someone with the Free Gaze, disguises and masks became useless against him.
After placing the order, Cheol Myung-ho asked,
"He sees with his eyes closed?"
"In a manner of speaking," the Mad God chuckled.
"That's why crossing the Sword Emperor is such a pain. He'll chase you to the ends of the earth."
Suddenly, the Sword Emperor's eyes snapped open, and he looked at Baek Yak first, surprised.
"Young Lady Baek."
"Yes?"
"Are you a descendant of Lord Baek Mujin?"
Baek Yak smiled.
"I am."
The Sword Emperor turned to the Mad God with astonishment.
"Something major must be brewing in the martial world. The balance between the orthodox and demonic paths has never tilted so drastically before. Twenty years have passed—they should've recovered by now. Even the ones I chase have grown stronger, many now possessing Blade Immunity unlike during the Five Spirits Grand War. With you emerging, Senior, and a descendant of Baek Mujin appearing... At least that's some consolation. And you—"
He looked at Dan Woo-sung.
"You've surpassed your master at such a young age. Woo-sung would've been overjoyed."
This was the Sword Emperor's official acknowledgment that Dan Woo-sung had transcended his past life's achievements.
Dan Woo-sung nodded silently. Far from joy, his heart was tangled in bittersweet complexity.
'Finally recognized by a senior. It took long enough.'
When the alcohol arrived, silence briefly settled over the group.
Dan Woo-sung picked up the bottle first, filling the Mad God's cup. Then the Sword Emperor's, followed by Cheol Myung-ho and Baek Yak in turn.
This was Dan Woo-sung's first time drinking with the Sword Emperor. Without realizing it, he murmured his name like a man in a daze.
"Lee Jin-eon."
The Sword Emperor tilted his head.
"Hm? Didn't you say that earlier?"
Dan Woo-sung smiled bitterly.
"Ah, I forgot."
When living as the heir of the Silver River Merchant Group, he hadn't cared much for his name. But meeting someone who knew him from his past life left him utterly disoriented.
The Sword Emperor studied him carefully.
"Your energy is strikingly similar to the Fist King's. I often heard he was searching for a disciple—seems he was far better at it than I."
The Mad God's eyes widened.
"Wait, you still haven't found one?"
"I've been busy, Senior. Too many people to kill."
The Mad God grinned as he ruffled Cheol Myung-ho's hair.
"What about this one?"
The Sword Emperor examined Cheol Myung-ho's rough face.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-six."
"Let me see your hand."
When Cheol Myung-ho extended his hand, the Sword Emperor gripped his wrist and burst into laughter.
"You've swallowed a few elixirs but haven't learned any internal techniques, have you?"
"Right."
"Your energy is turbid. At least you haven't drunk too much."
"Are you a physician?"
"No."
Cheol Myung-ho sulkily withdrew his hand and turned to Dan Woo-sung.
"Why didn't you teach me internal techniques?"
The Sword Emperor answered instead.
"What's your relationship?"
"Friends."
"The Fist King's faction, the Five Spirits Gate, accepts only one disciple. Since they train the successor who will lead the next generation, it's only natural they wouldn't teach internal techniques to a friend of the same age. There should be at least a twenty-year age gap. Their arts are passed to a single heir—how could they teach you? The same goes for me."
Cheol Myung-ho nodded.
"Ah, I see."
The Mad God said,
"So, will you take him as a disciple or not?"
The Sword Emperor smirked.
"Senior, you can't push me like this. Finding a disciple isn't some trivial matter. This is my first time seeing him."
The Mad God roared with laughter.
"Hey, Fox, how many times have you practiced the Threefold Sword Technique?"
"Three hundred twenty... I lost count. I'll just start over from three hundred twenty."
The Sword Emperor chuckled.
"You've practiced the Threefold Sword Technique three hundred twenty thousand times?"
"Yes."
"Remarkable."
He turned to the Mad God.
"Aren't you taking a disciple, Senior?"
"With my temperament?"
Teaching Cheol Myung-ho the Fox Spear Technique didn't even qualify as taking a disciple. It was more like an impromptu lesson from a free-spirited master.
The Sword Emperor asked,
"What about me?"
"..."
The Sword Emperor and the Mad God glared at each other before bursting into laughter simultaneously.
"Hahahaha!"
The Sword Emperor looked at Dan Woo-sung.
"Hey, junior."
"Yes."
"From now on, I'll call you the Fist King."
Dan Woo-sung acknowledged this before another round of drinks circulated.
Later, the Sword Emperor asked Baek Yak,
"Young Lady Baek, how many of the Four Profound Secrets have you mastered?"
"All but the last."
The Sword Emperor nodded approvingly.
"Impressive. Truly impressive."
Baek Yak looked intrigued.
"How do you know about my family's Four Profound Secrets?"
The Sword Emperor smirked.
"How could I not? My master's master, and his master's master, and so on—trace it back far enough, and you'll find someone who crossed blades with Lord Baek Mujin. My lineage is quite ancient. Like yours."
"Ancient" was an understatement. His school was arguably the oldest in the martial world.
This time, the Sword Emperor picked up the bottle and refilled everyone's cups.
"Senior, may you live long and prosper. The martial world is blessed to have you return to guide the juniors. And Myung-ho—once this great matter is resolved..."
"Yes."
"...if I still haven't found a disciple..."
"Yes?"
"...and if you're still alive, I'll consider taking you on then."
"Huh?"
First, Cheol Myung-ho had to survive.
Second, the Sword Emperor had to remain disciple-less.
Third, the "great matter" had to be settled.
The conditions were daunting.
Cheol Myung-ho accepted the drink respectfully with both hands but retorted,
"Senior, if you don't want me, just say so."
"Hahaha."
This time, everyone laughed at Cheol Myung-ho's remark. Though their ages, backgrounds, and beliefs differed wildly, the atmosphere was far from unpleasant.
After refilling his own cup, the Sword Emperor raised it and fixed Dan Woo-sung with a steady gaze.
"Your master's enemies are mine as well. I had hoped to share a drink with the Fist King when I was older—but they stole that chance. Now, you must drink in his stead."
Dan Woo-sung lifted his cup.
"Once this great matter is resolved, once you've found a disciple, once there's nothing left in this world to trouble you—I'll challenge you in my master's place. You'll accept then, won't you?"
Everyone looked at the Sword Emperor. He drank silently, then stared at Dan Woo-sung before suddenly rising and drawing his sword in front of them all.
The abruptness left everyone speechless.
The Sword Emperor pointed his blade at Dan Woo-sung.
"Do you think I honed my sword to defeat you? No."
Then he pointed it—quite audaciously—at the Mad God.
"Do you think I honed my sword to defeat you, Senior? No."
A faint smile crossed his face as he lightly swung his sword.
"We are swordsmen who flee and flee again. Swordsmen who survive and rise once more. Men who endure loneliness and soothe it only by gazing at the moon. Because we live, the demonic tide will remain but a dream..."
The Mad God burst out laughing and slapped his knee.
"Junior, are you drunk?"
The Sword Emperor stepped back.
"The drink is weak, but I am drunk. Senior, juniors—I must flee once more. Let us meet again alive."
With that, he unleashed his Lightfoot Technique. A sudden gust of wind swept him away like a storm, vanishing into the wilderness. He was a man whose flair was distinct from madness.
As Cheol Myung-ho, Dan Woo-sung, and Baek Yak marveled at the Sword Emperor's mystique, the Mad God snorted.
"See? Still a darling. Just like when he was young."
Cheol Myung-ho seemed genuinely moved.
"So that's what a true swordsman is like. Where's his school?"
The Mad God mused.
"Hard to say. Probably descendants of the Sword Immortal Lü Dongbin. Those guys—masters and disciples alike—are all cut from the same cloth. Only their titles change; their actions always earn them the name 'Sword Immortal.' When times are peaceful, they live as immortals. When the demonic tide rises, they emerge as emperors."
Dan Woo-sung stared at where the Sword Emperor had disappeared for a long time. Only now did his long-held misconceptions about the man finally dissolve.