Chapter 68
Chapter 68
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 68
Chapter Title: Part 8 - Friendly Spar (3)
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The day of the sparring matches had dawned.
Mok Ri-won buckled on his sword and prepared to ascend the sparring platform.
The reason he was first up was none other than what he had requested the day before.
“Thank you for indulging my stubbornness.”
The squad members chuckled at his solemn demeanor, recalling the previous day's events.
—I want to spar with the Golden Sword Great Hero. I want to draw him up onto the platform. I want to tell him the joy of crossing swords.
Everyone there knew it. Whenever the usually childlike Mok Ri-won spoke with a serious face, something mysterious always happened.
“Good luck.”
Dang Hwa-seo said with a smile, and Mok Ri-won grinned back.
“I’ll deliver results worthy of my stubbornness.”
He ascended to the platform.
*
Gwon Pyo-wol watched Mok Ri-won climb onto the sparring platform, his face troubled.
Memories of that night's conversation flashed through his mind.
—I’ve heard about you, Great Hero. I didn’t know personnel evaluations were coming up soon. I’m sorry.
—Oh, no. If anything, I should apologize. I’ve let down your expectations.
—So, would you indulge one more sorry request?
—…What do you mean?
—Come up onto the sparring platform.
—Haha, as sorry as I am…
—It’s just a spar.
In the shadowed corridor dimly lit even by moonlight, Gwon Pyo-wol could never forget the smile Mok Ri-won had shown at that moment.
—Establishing righteousness with the sword is incomparable to anything else, but even so, doesn’t it seem strange to spare the sword for the sake of wielding it to uphold justice?
It was like the stubbornness of a child, yet his words held a strange magnetism.
Gwon Pyo-wol couldn’t find words to refute him right then.
He could only mull it over.
The words Mok Ri-won left with as he departed.
—I’m not forcing you. I understand your position as Great Hero. I know there are things one must give up for the greater good. That’s why I’m just here to say it.
—…Say what?
—I’ll take the vanguard in these spars and won’t lose a single time. If I win them all, it’ll negatively impact the White Sword Unit’s personnel evaluation. So…
The playful smile Mok Ri-won had floated then.
—Then you’ll have no choice but to come up and show them the way, right? No choice at all.
Clench.
Gwon Pyo-wol’s fist tightened.
Yet in his eyes, a strange flicker began to emerge. A smile unwittingly formed at his lips.
‘No choice… huh.’
No choice but to climb the platform, no choice but to spar. It was playful wordplay, but Gwon Pyo-wol couldn’t deny it.
If, just if, such a situation arose, he might set aside all other thoughts and step onto the platform.
He might simply revel in the act of crossing swords.
Why this sudden, novel urge now?
Gwon Pyo-wol thought if there was a reason, it was that man’s eyes.
‘So clear.’
Mok Ri-won’s eyes were clear. Like a crystal-clear lake.
*
Boom! Boom!
The drum resounded.
At the same time, the Azure Dragon Unit warrior serving as referee shouted.
[Both sides, to your positions!]
Mok Ri-won stood at the center of the arena at the call.
The man ascending opposite him was a swordsman famed in the White Sword Unit for his swift sword.
“It’s an honor to cross swords with the Silent Dragon. I am Wang Il.”
The Swift Sword Master Wang Il cupped his fists in salute, and Mok Ri-won returned the gesture.
“I hope it’s a good match.”
Even as he said it, Mok Ri-won’s focus was far away.
On Golden Sword Gwon Pyo-wol. His resolve hardened under the man’s gaze.
Mok Ri-won knew it too. That he was being stubborn.
But he decided not to care anymore.
‘This is the world of the jianghu.’
A world of swordsmen who established justice with their blades, a harsh realm where only the strong could prove what was right.
So what if it was childish stubbornness? So what if it was naive romance ignorant of reality?
He just had to prove it. Mok Ri-won resolved no longer to hesitate in proving himself with his sword.
Shing.
The sword was drawn.
Only then did Wang Il’s stance come into Mok Ri-won’s view.
A two-handed grip on the sword, poised for an upward slash.
It was a stance from one of the sword manuals Mok Ri-won had devoured.
‘Jade Thunder Advance Sword.’
A sword art using three lightning-quick slashes as its essence.
The moment Mok Ri-won recognized it, he shifted his own stance.
To the exact same Jade Thunder Advance Sword posture as Wang Il’s.
“…!”
Wang Il’s eyes widened.
Followed by a hollow laugh.
‘Right, that’s the Silent Dragon for you.’
Wang Il tensed, his muscles bulging.
He’d heard earfuls about what Mok Ri-won had done at the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament to earn that moniker.
In the group preliminaries, relentlessly targeting only Namgung Jincheon with successive techniques.
In the main rounds, his ever-changing sword forms.
Finally, the transcendent swordsmanship that pinned down Namgung Jincheon.
All of it made clear this wasn’t mere play on Mok Ri-won’s part.
Wang Il grinned.
“You’re trying to draw out the Captain, aren’t you.”
“I won’t deny it.”
Mok Ri-won smiled brightly. Wang Il felt a surge of pleasure.
Of course. He was certain Mok Ri-won wouldn’t use half-hearted moves just to lure out the Captain in this spar.
‘He wants to show the Captain!’
That the squad members weren’t enough as opponents, that the gap with them—and with himself—could only be bridged by the Captain.
But Wang Il declared.
“It won’t be easy!”
A prodigy possibly hailed as the greatest of the era, but still just an eighteen-year-old youth.
A fledgling whose only taste of the jianghu was the Dragon-Phoenix Tournament.
Lightning crackled from Wang Il with a ‘crackle’.
The Thunder Duke, counterpart to the Jade Thunder Advance Sword, unfolded.
He intended to show the young sprout.
That the jianghu wasn’t a place survived by talent alone, that one staring at distant horizons could still trip over a nearby stone.
[Begin!]
Crackle!
Wang Il’s sword shot forth with sparks of lightning.
Aiming for Mok Ri-won’s waist.
Impeccably clean trajectory. Heightened tension and resolve made it the cleanest strike he’d landed recently.
‘Hit…!’
Wang Il was certain.
A fine sword, more than enough to awaken a junior.
Clang—!
…But far too slow to discipline Mok Ri-won.
Later strike first arrival.
The subtlety of drawing later but arriving first was demonstrated by Mok Ri-won.
Wang Il halted his body as his own throat was reached by a sword beyond his perception of speed.
“…A fine sword.”
He let out a hollow laugh at the words.
‘Whoa there.’
The moment defeat was sealed, that was Wang Il’s first thought.
His “It won’t be easy!” had been for naught.
*
The situation was utterly one-sided, gruesomely so.
Mok Ri-won crushed the White Sword Unit’s swordsmen with overwhelming skill, as if to demonstrate the gap in levels.
Already the fifth warrior had ascended the platform.
None had withstood even a single exchange from Mok Ri-won.
A惨めな scene.
Though they had to lose, smiles bloomed on the defeated swordsmen’s faces.
“Wow~ That draw was something else! I didn’t even see the Silent Dragon’s sword come out!”
“Of course, I’ll remember today and recall it whenever I’m down! ‘It won’t be easy!’ Ugh~ Quote of the year!”
“What’s with you?”
Even Wang Il, the first to fall, and Jang Sam, Cheon Gu-yong, and Ha Jin-mok who followed—all were laughing.
Why bother explaining? Though defeated, they had all enjoyed it.
The spar with a worthy opponent, that moment’s tension.
Gwon Pyo-wol felt his chest tickle at the sight.
‘…Me too.’
The sudden thought made Gwon Pyo-wol smile bitterly.
On the platform, the fifth opponent, Do Pyeong, was collapsing with a ‘Whoa!’.
[Silent Dragon! Victory!]
“A fine sword.”
“Overpraise! You’ve shown me the Silent Dragon’s sword isn’t in name only! I’ve learned something!”
A bold smile adorned even Do Pyeong’s face.
“Captain.”
Someone called him then.
Sa Gyeong-un, the White Sword Unit’s vice-captain and his longest-serving comrade.
“Your turn?”
“What are you talking about? If I go, I’ll just lose. Even as vice-captain, I don’t want to embarrass myself against that monster.”
Sa Gyeong-un laughed heartily.
Then, stopping his laughter, he smiled faintly at Gwon Pyo-wol.
“You know? The Silent Dragon came to see me the day before.”
“…The Silent Dragon?”
“He said something about an unavoidable situation.”
Gwon Pyo-wol’s gaze turned to Mok Ri-won.
The youth stared back with boyish longing.
Gwon Pyo-wol felt his body stir.
“Captain, at this rate, we won’t be able to show our faces in the Murim Alliance. Won’t you go show them a thing or two?”
At Sa Gyeong-un’s words, Gwon Pyo-wol bit his lip.
“…You know better.”
It didn’t align with reason. If he lost this spar, the damage to the White Sword Unit would be greater than a total squad defeat.
A complete loss in a friendly spar without the captain stepping up would be far preferable.
The wall of reality was too much just for enjoyment…
‘No.’
No. Gwon Pyo-wol lowered his head to gaze at the sword at his waist.
The gold scabbard was a resolve to never forget the sword’s weight.
It was clouding his vision.
‘No. Perhaps…’
Gwon Pyo-wol had a sudden thought.
He might be afraid.
Enchanted by this brilliant sheen, he might have chased status over the martial way at some point.
Gwon Pyo-wol’s brow furrowed.
Seeking a safe path before an inferior like Mok Ri-won wasn’t befitting a warrior.
‘I didn’t take up the sword for status.’
It had been so from long ago.
The dream that led him from teaching at a rural dojo to here wasn’t this current self.
‘Sword Saint.’
A solemn warrior who infused each strike with righteousness.
Not someone fearing even to draw under the sword’s weight.
Only then did Gwon Pyo-wol laugh hollowly.
Realization came after contemplation.
‘What am I doing?’
Why would a warrior hesitate to draw his sword?
Why fear evaluation more than the sword itself?
Gwon Pyo-wol cursed himself.
Lifting his head, he saw them.
His squad members were there.
Most could have taken better positions elsewhere, yet they followed him gratefully.
They trailed simply because they admired his ideals.
Gwon Pyo-wol laughed at the anticipation in their eyes.
“…Truly making us lose every shred of face.”
As vice-captain Sa Gyeong-un stepped aside, the squad members parted in a line.
The path to the arena opened before Gwon Pyo-wol.
He looked upon it.
‘The path I should have taken long ago…’
Gwon Pyo-wol’s feet moved toward the platform.
Mid-stride, he drew his sword, hurling the golden scabbard to the ground.
‘…Finally heading there, bewitched by mere wrapping.’
Mok Ri-won, standing on the platform, smiled radiantly.
“Please, take care of me.”
Gwon Pyo-wol had to admit it.
Stubborn and fierce. He had ultimately drawn him here, so it was as good as his victory.
Yet pure and innocent.
A model for any warrior.
Thus, Gwon Pyo-wol decided to forget.
“Five squad members fell to you.”
Complicated personnel evaluations, the dignity befitting a captain, the empty title of Golden Sword.
Forgetting it all, he spoke as swordsman Gwon Pyo-wol.
“So I’ll yield five moves.”
He smiled like a child for the first time in ages.
“Come.”