Chapter 43
Chapter 43
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 43
Chapter Title: Dragon-Phoenix Tournament (16)
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Star-Link Sect.
Eleventh Disciple.
And Little Sect Leader.
Through the three meanings embedded in that single phrase, Namgung Hyeok realized.
“You’re alive.”
That Sword Saint Mok Seon-o had not yet met his end.
Namgung Hyeok felt a surge of joy.
With it, the aura he hadn’t fully restrained erupted ferociously, and Mok Ri-won’s breath caught in his throat under the overwhelming pressure.
“Where is he.”
Namgung Hyeok asked again.
For some reason, a gleaming light flickered in his eyes.
“Where is the Sword Saint. Right, that Beggar King must be with him too? Tell me.”
All the energy filling the space screamed.
It ground and crushed, slamming into the floor.
This was merely the phenomenon caused by the aura leaking out—not even him unleashing his full power.
Transcendent Realm.
The supreme realm, which only the most exceptional geniuses across the vast Central Plains martial world could barely step into, now bore down on Mok Ri-won with its unfathomably profound energy.
“Guh…!”
Mok Ri-won’s eyes bulged wide.
He somehow held his trembling legs steady, maintaining his fist-and-palm salute.
It felt as if someone had seized his throat and was strangling him.
A dazed sensation washed over him, as if he might black out at any moment, but Mok Ri-won did not collapse.
“I can’t… tell you.”
“Why not?”
“…The Sword King hasn’t stated his reason for seeking my master. I don’t wish to do anything that might threaten my master’s safety.”
Mok Ri-won met Namgung Hyeok’s gaze directly.
Namgung Hyeok pressed down on him while scrutinizing his eyes.
Eyes filled with resolute determination and conviction.
Namgung Hyeok fell silent, as if pondering something, then withdrew his aura.
“…You are utterly right. As a martial artist, and as a disciple.”
Namgung Hyeok said this, then continued.
“I showed an undignified side. Forgive me.”
He was a vastly junior.
A man who had come all the way here without knowing the full story.
Namgung Hyeok felt ashamed for failing to contain his momentary emotions even when facing such a person.
Only then did Mok Ri-won exhale deeply as his breath finally eased.
He bowed his head low.
“My thanks for your consideration.”
“But I’ll ask once more. Where is the Sword Saint.”
Mok Ri-won’s body twitched.
Embarrassment began to cloud his face.
‘He’s stuck in place.’
The conversation wasn’t progressing.
He lacked the brutality Ma Il-seok had described, but that stubborn temperament was disconcerting enough—perhaps even worse.
“My apologies…”
“I’m not out to harm him.”
Mok Ri-won lifted his head.
Namgung Hyeok continued in his characteristically stern expression, his words almost a murmur.
“I merely have some unresolved karma to settle.”
“Karma, you say…”
“I haven’t settled things with him yet. We must duel.”
Mok Ri-won clamped his mouth shut.
Ma Il-seok’s words flashed through his mind.
—Do you know how shameless that Sword King is? Every time he dueled my brother, he lost a hundred times out of a hundred! He’s never won once, yet he clings on stubbornly and says, ‘We haven’t settled things yet.’ What a joke. That guy doesn’t even count the duels he lost as real duels. Sword King, my ass—what suits him is Sword Maniac.
It was a sentiment he deeply understood.
Though biased by Ma Il-seok’s perspective, Mok Ri-won couldn’t help but agree.
‘What should I do…’
Mok Ri-won wrestled with the dilemma.
For one, it was clear he harbored no ill intent toward him.
After all, despite knowing everything about him, he hadn’t even uttered the “Cheon” of Heavenly Slaughter Star.
Moreover, while asking for the Sword Saint’s location, he hadn’t spewed any negativity toward him.
Just competitive spirit.
That was all Mok Ri-won saw in Sword King Namgung Hyeok.
“…May I ask one thing?”
“Speak.”
“Why do you desire a duel with my master?”
“…”
A change finally crossed Namgung Hyeok’s face for the first time.
At a glance, it seemed like bewilderment.
“Is a reason necessary?”
Namgung Hyeok truly couldn’t comprehend.
There was a powerhouse he had never surpassed in his lifetime.
A match left forever as lingering regret.
For any martial artist—for any sword master, no less.
To give up and retreat from such an opponent would be the truly strange thing.
“I just want to settle the match.”
“…”
Mok Ri-won felt utterly bewildered.
When was the last time he’d felt this way?
It had been since he was ten, when Ma Il-seok tossed him a snare one day, saying, “I want meat today,” and made him catch a rabbit.
Mok Ri-won felt his energy drain away.
Yet amid it, a sudden certainty arose regarding the answer Namgung Hyeok was pressing for.
“…He’s in Gansu Province. I can say no more.”
“Gansu Province. I heard you clearly.”
Namgung Hyeok’s expression hardened again.
It also carried a hint of satisfaction.
Mok Ri-won thought to himself.
‘No trouble will come of this.’
Whatever the case, Namgung Hyeok’s business seemed concluded with the duel.
“Go now.”
Namgung Hyeok said this and closed his eyes.
There wasn’t even a trace of lingering attachment in his words.
Watching him, Mok Ri-won felt a desire to resolve the faint unease still lingering in his heart.
“…May I ask one more thing?”
“What is it.”
“You seem to hold no other grudges against me. Surely you know of the star bestowed upon me…”
“Does it matter?”
“…Pardon?”
Namgung Hyeok opened his eyes.
Having finished his business, his gaze was filled only with indifference.
“Do you think a mere star like that decides the sword?”
Mok Ri-won’s eyes widened slightly.
Namgung Hyeok scoffed at his expression.
“Whatever it is, in the end, you’re a sword master. That’s all there is to it.”
Sword King Namgung Hyeok.
He was a man who had truly devoted his life to the sword.
To him, nothing mattered beyond the act of wielding it.
This held true even on the day the blood feud ended.
—Don’t make me laugh. Are you saying you’ll abandon the sword now?
—I’m not abandoning the sword. I’m laying down my name.
—If I tear that blood clot to shreds and kill it, will you take it back?
—Sword King, my resolve will not waver.
—…
He was a man utterly disinterested in Mok Ri-won’s origins.
If he cared at all, it would only be about the swordsmanship he had learned and his martial talent.
“Go now.”
“…Yes, pardon the intrusion.”
Mok Ri-won felt his insides churn with emotions he couldn’t put into words.
For one born into a fate reviled across the entire Central Plains, meeting someone who didn’t need him to hide his birth—and who didn’t reject his very existence—was profoundly moving.
Even if that indifference stemmed not from consideration.
Mok Ri-won turned and left the quarters.
Only then did Namgung Hyeok watch his retreating figure and think.
‘That one’s far better.’
He was comparing him to his own grandson, Namgung Jincheon.
‘It’ll be worth watching.’
The Transcendent Realm martial artist was certain.
The Emperor Star would not overcome the Killing Star.
Arrogance was all he knew; he had confined his world within that arrogance, and thus he would crumble.
But what mattered was what came after.
‘Indeed…’
Would his grandson cast off his arrogance and advance, or would he succumb to heart demons and fall?
Either way, preparations were needed.
*
Stepping out once more into the manor.
Mok Ri-won wandered to a pond in one corner of the manor, his mind adrift.
Scattered pine trees cast dappled shade, making the pond quite cool.
‘A sword master, that’s all.’
Mok Ri-won repeated the words to himself.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
‘Yes, I’m a sword master. One who achieves heroism through the sword.’
There was joy.
And a swelling emotion.
As Mok Ri-won repeated it and smiled, he sensed something hazy—long shrouded in fog—beginning to glimmer faintly in his mind.
It was a minor enlightenment, one might say.
An insight into the essence of martial arts, heroism, intent, and sword.
A dim light akin to idle thoughts, elusive to grasp, yet Mok Ri-won did not rush it.
‘I should return and meditate.’
Once it appeared so faintly, enlightenment—as always—would fall into his grasp in time.
His hands itched.
He wanted to swing his sword right away.
Just as he sprang to his feet with that urge.
“Eung….”
A very childish voice sounded from right nearby.
Mok Ri-won inwardly winced.
Lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed someone approaching—embarrassing.
Mok Ri-won turned his head.
There stood a little girl, no more than five or six, her face flushed and expression blank.
“Hm?”
“Eung….”
The girl’s eyes gleamed dreamily.
Her chubby cheeks burned bright red, an adorably endearing sight.
‘A child of the Namgung Clan?’
He could only assume so; the clothes she wore were visibly made of fine material at a glance.
“Little one, who are you?”
Mok Ri-won asked with a bright smile.
The girl flinched at his smile, her eyes sparkling.
“S-So-a….”
“Right, So-a. Are you lost by chance?”
A question prompted by her fine attire and lack of any guardian nearby.
The girl who called herself So-a shook her head vigorously.
“Nooo….”
Then she fidgeted with her fingertips.
As Mok Ri-won tilted his head curiously.
Whoosh—.
So-a hugged his leg.
“Husband…!”
So-a squeezed her eyes shut and cried out again.
“You’re my husband…!”
Mok Ri-won panicked.
How could he not?
What person wouldn’t when a random child called them husband?
Mok Ri-won scratched his cheek awkwardly with a laugh, then patted her head and said.
“Sorry, little one. I’m not your husband.”
Boom!
So-a stared at him in devastation, as if the world had collapsed.
“No…?”
“No, I’m not.”
It was regrettable.
Mok Ri-won was a clever man with decent intuition, but he remained largely ignorant about human nature—especially children.
Having only ever interacted with elders and peers, he lacked understanding of a child’s innocence or the admiration they might hold.
Tears welled up on So-a’s face.
“Husband’s gone….”
“Gone isn’t the right word. Gone means something that existed has vanished, but since your husband never existed to begin with, ‘I have no husband’ is more accurate.”
Mok Ri-won smiled smugly, pleased with his logical explanation.
But it was a blunder.
“Hic…!”
The truth was far too heavy a burden for a child.
So-a’s sobs deepened.
Mok Ri-won panicked at the sight.
“Why, why are you crying…!”
“Husbaaand…!”
“Huh? Husband? Crying because you don’t have one? No need to cry! When you grow up, you’ll surely meet a wonderful husband!”
“Husbaaand…!”
“Y-You’re too young to have a husband right now! So stop that!”
Mok Ri-won relentlessly lectured the breathless child.
At this point, even saying “I’ll be your husband” might have worked, but expecting tact from blunt-spoken Mok Ri-won was futile.
So-a—full name Namgung So-a—was encountering, for the first time, someone immune to her childish tantrums.
And of all people, a strikingly handsome man who made her eyes sparkle.
If he’d gotten angry, it might’ve been fine, but Mok Ri-won’s looks were too extraordinary.
After all, no face in Namgung So-a’s life could soothe her anger just by looking at it.
In the end, she had only one option.
If it didn’t work, keep trying until it did.
Like the words her uncle, Spear Star Sword Namgung Un, always said, Namgung So-a mustered persistence for the first time in her life.
“Husband—!”
Namgung So-a clung to Mok Ri-won’s leg like a cicada.
Mok Ri-won’s heart skipped at her resounding cry.
Then.
“So-a.”
A man’s voice echoed through the space.
It was Namgung Jincheon.
Namgung So-a peeked up at him.
“…Big brother?”
“Come here.”
Namgung Jincheon beckoned impassively.
Namgung So-a hesitated, glancing between Mok Ri-won and Namgung Jincheon, then pouted and toddled over.
Namgung Jincheon picked her up.
He then looked at Mok Ri-won and fell silent.
“…”
“…”
An awkward silence.
At its end, Namgung Jincheon asked in a voice devoid of even a grain of emotion.
“Muk Geom, do you have a taste for pedophilia?”
“No—!”
Mok Ri-won felt he’d die of injustice.