Chapter 47
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Nangong Clan (2)
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Mujin followed Hwangbo Jangseong into a room in the annex.
The annex at the inn where Hwangbo Jangseong was staying was far too lavish to simply call a room, and quite spacious to boot. Though bustling with people, it was one of the rare spots quiet enough for a proper conversation.
"You've raised your son well."
"Your daughter is no less impressive than my boy."
"That's exactly why I'm saying this—don't brush it off lightly. Put in a formal marriage proposal."
"Are you asking for a union between our families?"
"Precisely."
Mujin hadn't expected the Hwangbo Clan to make such a swift decision. They were one of the Five Great Clans, after all. Their pride in their lineage was immense. They wouldn't casually approve a marriage with some obscure sect whose name barely registered.
So he asked again.
"A clan alliance, or purely as in-laws?"
"The clan head will respect my wishes. And if my daughter chose him, there must be good reason."
"In that case, I'll formally propose the match."
If Hwangbo Jangseong's resolve was this firm, the betrothal was as good as sealed. Mujin would still check with his wife, but if his son wanted it, he'd give his blessing. Who were parents to stand in the way if both were willing?
It was a remarkably open-minded approach.
"You mentioned having a daughter."
"Out of the question."
Hwangbo Jangseong was stuffing a piece of three-layer pork seasoned with soy sauce into his mouth, unable to press further after Mujin's curt refusal. He felt oddly deflated. Like he'd come out on the short end of the deal somehow.
'Guess I have to trust Ryeong's judgment.'
In a way, it was a good thing for Ryeong. She could choose before being sacrificed to some political marriage for the clan.
Convincing the clan was his job.
Taejin, who would become his son-in-law, had surely shone in the Little Dragon Tournament preliminaries. Purely in terms of skill, he had few peers his age. But the real key was the man right in front of him—Mujin. The destructive power he'd unleashed while crushing the Sohochae went far beyond ordinary prowess. They had numbers on their side, but the Sohochae were no pushovers.
"To subdue the String Sword in a mere two exchanges... impressive. According to Se-ryeong, he picked the fight first."
"Would I start trouble? As you know, I'm a pacifist."
Pacifist? Do you even know what that word means?
Hwangbo Jangseong had long since grown accustomed to Mujin's brazenness. Picking at every little thing would kill the conversation. Better to let his self-delusion slide and move on—it was far more efficient.
"To provoke a pacifist like you... hardly befitting the String Sword's reputation."
"I've never seen such a shameless bastard in my life."
Then what about the one sitting in front of you?
He got it.
No one could face their own reflection. There was some truth to claiming he'd never seen one before.
"How was his swordsmanship?"
"Not a match for you, father-in-law. Nothing particularly noteworthy."
...This damned fool!
He'd built him up, only to reduce the String Sword to chicken feed. What did that make him by comparison? It was clear now—engaging this man seriously was a losing battle.
What gave him such confidence?
Does he think he's the best in the world?
-Finally catching on, eh? About this guy.
'What's that supposed to mean about me?'
-Better when he was a wastrel.
'Hey! I've turned over a new leaf.'
-That's why you shouldn't have!
As Mujin and the Demon King bickered, Hwangbo Jangseong spoke of the Zhuge Clan's head. True to his moniker Heavenly Machine Divine Sword, his blade was flawless—like heaven's vast net, seemingly loose yet leaving no gaps.
"His sword is one thing, but he's masterful at steering situations. Even a trivial pretext becomes a grand achievement in his hands."
"Impressive as that may be, he's still just Zhuge Clan."
Ha!
To dismiss the Zhuge Clan so casually—it seemed like a joke at first, but his expression said otherwise. If that face hid deceit or hypocrisy, the man was a con artist of legend.
Yet he was brutally honest.
Hwangbo Jangseong's head throbbed.
'Should I take the bait?'
He hesitated over his retort.
'The likes of the Zhuge Clan daring to...'
-Can't argue with that.
When it came to schemers, fists were the best counter. Matching wits only gave them a headache.
Tianzhong Pavilion.
The office overseeing the Nangong Clan's major and minor affairs. The clan head and elders had gathered. The Little Dragon Tournament finals began tomorrow. Not the grandest martial gathering on the continent, but as an event bearing the clan's name, no detail could be overlooked.
In the room thick with majestic aura, eight elders sat arrayed around a central table.
At its heart sat a middle-aged man.
Nangong Cheon, head of the Nangong Clan and the Sword Overlord. He had succeeded the previous head, the Sword Emperor, in leading one of the Five Great Clans. Whispers claimed he lived in his predecessor's shadow, but none who had witnessed him dared utter such words.
A majestic presence and overwhelming power emanated from Nangong Cheon. He wasn't the firstborn, yet he'd claimed the seat—reason enough. As his title Sword Overlord implied, his blade was peerlessly dominant.
"The Zhuge Clan's String Sword lost his match."
"The String Sword is their best swordsman by a margin. Unexpected."
His voice was calm, without inflection. Reputation be damned—the String Sword was middling to Nangong Cheon. In raw martial prowess, he didn't rate the Zhuge Clan as equals.
"A Kang Mujin from the Pine Tiger Sect of Cheongyang."
"Kang Mujin? Never heard of him."
"According to the intelligence report, his identity checks out. Rumors from the lakes region say the Sohochae was wiped out, and he moved with the Hwangbo Clan."
"If the Sohochae fell, word should have spread. Does that mean the Hwangbo Clan suppressed the information?"
"Yes."
"Odd."
It wasn't something to hide. Crushing the Sohochae should've been boasted to elevate their prestige. Blocking info suggested they were concealing something else.
"We'll look into the Hwangbo Clan's movements."
"Do that."
They might've pushed Kang Mujin forward to bury the rumors. Otherwise, they wouldn't have humiliated the String Sword in public. The Hwangbo Clan didn't act without calculation.
"Any standout prospects in the tournament?"
"The ones from the inner city are on par with last time. The finals will likely pit us against another clan again."
No exceptional talents worth noting.
The Little Dragon Tournament was meant for unity among Anhui's sects, but it had become a battleground for the Five Great Clans. The Nangong Clan could never yield victory—not on home turf, where defeat to another clan's junior would invite scorn.
"No need for concern. Hoon will handle it. You know that."
"Complacency is the enemy."
Tournaments bred variables. The other clans hungered for the win after repeated losses—they wouldn't send weaklings.
"The Sword Emperor himself will award the prizes to the final eight."
"He's ended his seclusion?"
"Indeed."
"Ho, what auspicious news."
The longer the Sword Emperor's seclusion dragged on, the heavier the burden on the Nangong Clan. Though Nangong Cheon had forged his own legend as Sword Overlord, he fell short of the Emperor.
The weight of being among the Twenty-One Heroes of the Divine Continent was immense.
'Lingering regrets?'
Nangong Cheon's impassive face masked bitterness. But he wouldn't waver. It was the karma borne by the imperial bloodline.
The day of the Little Dragon Tournament.
As a gathering for Anhui's martial future and unity, the Nangong Clan head took the stage to declare it open.
It was the stage for the continent's young prodigies who had survived regional qualifiers to showcase their talents. But high hopes bred deep disappointments. The gap in sect size and potential made upsets rare.
The promising youths, eager to elevate their sects and prove themselves, grew acutely aware of reality's walls as matches unfolded.
"Victory to Yi Cheol-woong of Baozhang Sect."
"Victory to Kang In-gyeom of Daedo Hall."
"Victory to So Jeong-hyeon of Muntian Forest."
Wins piled up from Anhui's mid-tier sects of decent scale. In the first ten matches since the start, no surprises emerged.
"Small and mid-tier sects can't even make a name for themselves."
"Never heard of 'martial world of scale'? It's obvious. Success stories from them are rare."
"What a rotten world."
"Supernovas pop up in history books, but you can count 'em. Odds of one here? Nine times out of ten, it goes as expected."
"No payouts like this."
"If you're betting on lightning strikes, be my guest."
Where there were matches, there were wagers. Some watched purely for the martial display, but the thrill lay in gambling. Odds soared against unknowns. Droves dreamed of striking it rich, pinning hopes on nameless small-sect talents.
"Bet on Kang Taejin of Pine Tiger Sect. His old man beat the String Sword."
"Tempting, but guys like that have too many flops under famous dads."
"Yeah, build up hopes and watch 'em crash—total buzzkill."
"Still better than total nobodies. Decent odds too."
"Play it safe. Lose that cash, your kids starve."
Ahem.
From the surrounding chatter, Mujin cherry-picked the words he wanted.
"They call me Tiger Dad, son."
"By their logic, I'm a mutt then. Tigers don't sire dogs, so I must be adopted, right?"
"Makes sense. These punks!"
"Don't take it seriously."
"Just loosening you up."
"Not tense. You?"
Taejin asked Cheolho standing beside him. Tension etched Cheolho's face—a declaration of intent to prove himself here, no matter what. The trip to Hefei had been endless letdowns, far from his desires. No more failures; they would tarnish his master's dying wish.
"Don't lose till you face me."
"My line. Don't drop out early."
"This time, I'll pay you back."
"Won't be easy."
Cheolho's fighting spirit blazed at Taejin's smile. He hated to admit it, but reality stared him down. A monster loomed behind Taejin—the very beast who'd normalized scorn and discrimination while grooming his son.
"What's with that cocky glare? Don't wanna compete?"
"That's cheating!"
"If it's unfair, win."
"I will!"
Cheolho fumed. But he didn't whine. Irritating as it was, he'd relied on Mujin's aid. That fact stood. He couldn't lash out just because his own son got less attention. Still, shared time bred some resentment.
'Kids, am I right?'
-Not the guy who ran away after sibling comparisons. At least he's self-made.
This accursed Demon King was as sharp in death as in life, stabbing sore spots without mercy.
'That's why your parents ditched you.'
-...You gonna say that?
'Try growing up compared—bet you wouldn't.'
-Don't touch parents!
'Says the guy grinding his teeth to kill me nightly!'
-If I kill you, it's me doing it.
'Lunatic.'
-Saner than you.