Proof, and a Sword That Follows

Proof, ten times over.

The riverbank where that final battle had raged had since become a new holy ground for the martial artists of Hefei. Day after day, crowds came to stand before the savagely wrecked terrain, tracing with their own eyes the traces of a duel fought with such ferocity.

But the master of that duel, Namgung Cheon, was no longer there.

His footsteps had carried him back to the place he had left behind—the main gate of the Namgung Clan.

The first to spot him were the guards stationed at the gate. At first, they doubted their own eyes. Tattered clothes streaked with dried blood, a crude bandage wrapped around one shoulder—the picture of disarray. Yet overwhelming all of it was a cold, fathomless presence that made it impossible even to meet the man's gaze. He was nothing like the one who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had walked out of the estate ten days before.

"Th-Third Young Master…!"

One of the guards cried out before he knew it. His voice trembled thinly with awe, awed by the deeds that had shaken not only Hefei but the entire province of Anhui. At his shout, the other guards scrambled out and bowed their heads before him.

"Welcome back, Young Master!"

Their attitude was unmistakably changed from ten days prior. To them, Namgung Cheon had once been nothing more than a troublesome youngest son. But the man standing before them now was no longer the clan's disgrace. In a mere ten days, he had brought ten masters to their knees—a legend. The Sword Ghost.

Namgung Cheon spared their exaggerated courtesies not so much as a glance. Wordlessly, he stepped through the firmly closed main gate.

The scenery of the estate was unchanged. Immaculately swept grounds, ornate halls rising as if to pierce the heavens, servants bustling about and warriors devoted to their training. But the eyes of the people who filled that scenery were utterly different. Everyone who noticed his arrival froze mid-task, and then, as if on cue, all of them parted to clear a path and bowed low. The disdain and contempt—or pity—of the past were nowhere to be found.

So this is what it feels like to be treated as someone worthy.

Compared to his days as the Heavenly Demon it was a trickle of blood from a vein, but the sensation was still quite novel. Namgung Cheon walked on in silence, and the murmurs rising quietly around him settled clearly into his ears.

"They say he snapped even the Jeokmyeolgeom. Could that wound on his shoulder be from that fight?"

"The Sword Selection, and then the duel campaign… The heir apparent, and now…."

The storm he had stirred was already blanketing the entire clan. He could tell that the proof he had sought had achieved results beyond even his expectations.

Namgung Cheon headed straight for his quarters—the most remote and rundown corner of the entire estate, a place perfectly befitting his former, unremarkable self. But when he arrived, he found it changed. The old door had been replaced with a new one, and the dust-laden courtyard was neatly tidied. Before the door stood maids he had never seen before, lined up in waiting. The moment they spotted him, they startled and hurried forward.

"Young Master, you've returned! The Acting Matriarch ordered us to move you to larger, better quarters, but since you had not come home, we simply arranged this place for now."

His mother, Jegal Hwa. She had prepared a fitting reception on her own terms.

Quick as ever.

Namgung Cheon waved the servants away with a slight tilt of his head and stepped inside. When he opened the door, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his footsteps faltered for a moment.

The room was completely transformed from the one he had left. The floor gleamed as if polished, and the old table ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and chairs had been replaced with the finest furniture carved from red sandalwood. The thin, cold bedding was now a thick, soft silk quilt that radiated warmth at a glance. And on the table, a steaming cup of tea and delicate confections—pastries reserved for the clan's most honored guests—had been laid out with immaculate care. Jegal Hwa had predicted the exact hour of his return and prepared everything in advance.

Namgung Cheon stood in the center of the room and surveyed it all in silence. In every detail lived Jegal Hwa's quiet will: to acknowledge the new strongman who had returned with proven strength—and yet never to loosen her grip on his reins.

The image of Jegal Hwa's composed face rose in his mind.

I will take the recognition. I will not refuse the welcome, either.

An unreadable, cool smile touched his lips.

But.

He lifted the tea cup neatly placed upon the table. Then, instead of drinking, he silently poured its contents out toward the withered plant outside the window. A soft sizzle—warm tea seeping into the dry soil, stirring up a whisper of dust.

I have no intention of moving according to your designs.

That was the son's answer to his mother's unspoken intent.

Not even half a si (an hour) had passed since Namgung Cheon poured out the tea when it happened.

Knock knock knock!

A frantic pounding on his door shattered the stillness. It carried an urgency altogether different from the usual knock of a servant.

"Young Master! Young Master, are you inside?"

The voice from beyond the door was rough, as if its owner had sprinted until his breath gave out. Namgung Cheon's brow creased faintly.

"What is it?"

At his low question, the voice outside grew even more desperate.

"The main gate… you must come to the main gate at once!"

Namgung Cheon rose and opened the door. One of the gate guards stood there, gasping for breath, and bowed.

"Report in detail."

At Namgung Cheon's calm voice, the guard caught his breath and delivered his report.

"The Jeokmyeolgeom… The Silent Extinction Sword, Mujin, has come to request an audience with you!"

The Silent Extinction Sword, Mujin. The moment the name was spoken, Namgung Cheon closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. In them there was no surprise—only a flicker of mild irritation.

Master and disciple are cut from the same cloth, it seems….

He rose and moved silently toward the main gate, the center of the commotion. By the time he arrived, the area had already become a sea of people. Hundreds of the clan's household had drawn back at a distance, holding their breath as they watched the strange standoff before the gate.

A man stood squarely before the gate. It was Mujin. Uncharacteristically for a wanderer, he had dressed and groomed himself neatly. And at the very front of the crowd—facing Mujin—Jegal Hwa stood with her arms folded, quietly observing the fascinating situation.

Then at last, Namgung Cheon parted the crowd and appeared. At his entrance, every murmur died, and hundreds of eyes turned toward him.

"Oh! Young Master!"

When Mujin spotted Namgung Cheon, he greeted him with a warmth so incongruous it bordered on the absurd. At that sunny greeting, everyone before the gate doubted their own ears. The aura of a Transcendent Realm master he had been radiating mere moments ago was gone without a trace.

Namgung Cheon's brow twitched slightly. He, too, had not expected this reaction.

Something… troublesome is about to happen.

His premonition did not fail him.

Caring nothing for the eyes around him, Mujin stepped up before Jegal Hwa and bowed with perfect courtesy.

"The wanderer Mujin, presenting himself before the Lady of Hwahou."

"…You are the first person since I became mistress of the Namgung to address me by a special title."

At her words, Mujin allowed himself a faint smile.

"For the renowned Silent Extinction Sword of the world to seek out the Namgung Clan—it must be no ordinary matter."

Mujin stated his purpose plainly.

"If you will grant it, I humbly request to become a retainer-guest of the Namgung Clan."

The instant those words ended, the space before the main gate was engulfed in shock.

"What in the—"

"The disciple of the Wolf King wants to become a retainer? On what grounds—"

The murmuring swelled, and Mujin added at once:

"However, my reason for seeking this position is not the renown of the Namgung Clan."

His gaze passed over Jegal Hwa and settled on Namgung Cheon, standing behind her.

"I wish only to watch from beside the path that Young Master Namgung Cheon walks—and, when I can, to walk it with him."

"…!"

It was a staggering declaration. The one and only disciple of Nangwang had all but openly declared his support for Namgung Cheon. The air before the gate grew heavy. Everyone held their breath and turned to Jegal Hwa's lips, watching as she surveyed the situation.

And Jegal Hwa, smiling as though thoroughly entertained, looked at her son.

"My son."

Her voice was low, yet every soul present heard it clearly.

"The Silent Extinction Sword himself has come looking for you alone. What is your thoughts on this proposal?"

Just as Namgung Cheon had done before, she adroitly handed the decision entirely over to him. In that moment—from the elders and the warriors to the lowliest servants—hundreds of eyes converged on Namgung Cheon.

Just as I thought. This has become a nuisance.

Taking on followers had not been part of the plan. Such a person might well become baggage that weighed down his every step.

I should refuse.

But the moment Namgung Cheon looked at Mujin to voice the decision he had already made, the words would not come. Mujin's eyes were burning with pure, unadorned yearning and fighting spirit. A desire not merely for victory, but for a higher realm. As a martial artist, he could not simply turn away from it.

"Hah."

A sigh escaped him unbidden. Then, reluctantly, he spoke.

"Do as you please."

"I'm obliged."

Mujin bowed once more. Namgung Cheon gave a short nod and let his gaze drop from the man entirely.

A Transcendent Realm retainer who had come declaring he would follow him. Hundreds of reverent gazes fixed upon him. All of it was merely the natural consequence of the path he had walked—nothing more. His interest did not lie in such trifles.

Namgung Cheon's gaze came to rest on one magnificent hall.

Changryonggak—the Azure Dragon Pavilion. The throne-like hall reserved solely for the heir apparent who would one day own the Namgung Clan.

This is only the beginning.

A faint smile rose at the corner of Namgung Cheon's mouth.

And then—there was exactly one person who did not miss that fleeting glance. The corner of Jegal Hwa's lips curled upward as well.