The Sword怪的 Challenge
The pale glow of dawn had not yet faded from the sky.
Between the veils of mist that coiled around the towering peaks of the Dabie Mountains, the red sun lifted its head.
Its light fell upon the heart of the Namgung Clan estate — the Great Training Ground, where hundreds of warriors stood in solemn formation.
At the center of those warriors stood the Jinshan Sword Squadron, one of the four wings of the Cangqiong Four Swords.
Fifty swordsmen, every one of them a master of the Peak Realm.
Their awe-inspiring aura wrapped around the training ground like a shroud.
Behind the arena, on a raised platform, the pillars of the clan had all gathered.
Namgung Mugang sat at the center, Jegal Hwa at his side, and below them were seated the Grand Elder Namgung Gyeong and the other elders of the clan.
And behind them, standing slightly apart, was the Second Young Master, Namgung Jin.
He stared out at the training ground, his expression taut with tension.
Just how far does he intend to show us?
Namgung Jin's heart was a tangle of conflicting thoughts. The unstoppable march that had begun with the Sword Selection. And the realm of Transcendence that he himself had yet to reach. That he had already fallen behind his younger brother in martial skill, his mind knew.
But his heart refused to accept it. A stubborn insistence that he could not believe it until he saw it with his own eyes. And beneath that, a faint, almost shameful hope — that perhaps, just perhaps, the rumors were nothing but empty talk.
All of those tangled emotions had drawn him here.
Thud. Thud.
Then, heavy footsteps echoed from the entrance to the training ground.
As one, hundreds of pairs of eyes turned toward it.
A black martial uniform shot through with an uncanny blue sheen. And at his waist, a white scabbard and a black one.
It was the man who now carried two swords that had become his very symbol — Namgung Cheon.
He crossed the training ground at a leisurely pace, surveying his surroundings.
The qi radiating from the hundreds of warriors, and the fervor blazing in their eyes. Confusion and expectation, doubt and envy. All of those emotions crashed over him like waves.
To the Heavenly Demon, who had once stood at the summit of the Demonic Path, they would have been nothing more than a passing breeze.
But the Namgung Cheon of today was different.
Unexpectedly pleasant.
Because all of it was proof that he lived, that he had left his mark.
So first —
I should show them who I am.
Tap.
The moment Namgung Cheon's steps stopped before the platform, the qi swirling through the training ground began to shift with startling speed.
Shhhhaaa—.
The aura of the Transcendent Realm, perfectly concealed beneath the Great Void Heart-Protecting Art, surged up like water rising from below.
On the platform, Namgung Mugang's eyebrows twitched almost imperceptibly. He knew his son was deliberately unveiling his presence.
Overwhelming his opponents with sheer bearing before the fight even began, while at the same time making his existence unmistakably clear. Cunning. But Namgung Mugang did not dislike the cunning.
Before long, Namgung Cheon looked up at the platform and performed a formal fist-and-palm salute.
"The Third Young Master, Namgung Cheon, greets the Clan Lord."
Namgung Mugang gazed down at his son for a moment before speaking.
"Good. Are you ready?"
Namgung Cheon's hand closed around the hilt of his sword.
"I am always ready."
Unwavering.
The corner of Namgung Mugang's mouth lifted slightly at that. It was the same answer he had given before entering the Heavenly Martial Vault.
Right. What more does a warrior need?
The world, and the sword. With those two, that is enough.
With a satisfied nod, Namgung Mugang slowly turned his gaze to the assembled Jinshan Sword Squadron. Wherever his eyes passed, the warriors could not help swallowing dryly.
"Who will step forward first?"
Before the question had even finished falling, the man who stood at the very front beside Daeju stepped forward.
It was Namgung Hyeon, the vice-captain of the Jinshan Sword Squadron. Though born of a collateral line, he had risen to his position through skill alone — a master at the threshold of the Transcendent Realm.
He faced the platform and performed a respectful salute.
"I humbly ask to be the first."
Namgung Mugang looked down at him. A brief silence passed, and then permission was granted.
"Granted."
"Thank you!"
Namgung Hyeon answered with force, then turned to face Namgung Cheon.
"I ask the Third Young Master for a lesson."
With a courteous bow, he drew the sword at his waist.
Shring—.
The cold gleam of the blade flashed in the morning sunlight.
Namgung Cheon regarded him with detached eyes.
An orthodox Transcendent Realm master. A first, with this body.
He had faced Transcendent Realm opponents only three times before: the wanderer Mujin, the Yangtze River Flood Dragon of the Evil Sects, and the Ghost Mask Pact Master. But the aura radiating from this man, Namgung Hyeon, was markedly different from any of theirs.
Solid, and upright. It carried the weight of one who had devoted an entire lifetime purely to orthodox martial study.
Namgung Cheon rested his hand on Changcheon at his waist. He had no intention of using the Changcheon Mansangryu in this bout.
What these men must be shown is the Namgung in full.
Shring.
With a clear metallic ring, Changcheon revealed itself.
He had done nothing more than level the point of his blade — and yet Namgung Hyeon's expression froze in an instant. Namgung Cheon watched with cold eyes as the man's pupils wavered.
They call it an instructional match, yes.
What was needed now was to shatter the arrogance and delusion these men carried within them. He had to teach them with his own hands what the martial art of Namgung truly was — what a realm they could not presume to touch looked like.
Only that would free them from their illusions and set them on the true path.
There is no need to explain it in words.
He had never been a man to debate martial theory with his mouth in the first place. And yet the reason his mother had insisted on placing him here was obvious.
To demonstrate an overwhelming gap in power.
That, and only that, was the lesson his mother desired — and what he could offer these men.
Vmmm—.
A deep blue sword astral bloomed up along Namgung Cheon's blade like heat haze.
Revealing sword astral from the very first exchange of a bout — an audacious choice.
Then Namgung Cheon spoke quietly.
"Come at me with everything you have."
Namgung Hyeon's eyes widened. Wielding sword astral in a bout — against direct blood of the Namgung, no less — could all too easily end in disaster. Startled, he glanced up at Namgung Mugang on the platform.
But Namgung Mugang said nothing, watching in silence. And then Jegal Hwa, seated beside him, gave a small, quiet nod. Permission.
Good.
Namgung Hyeon's eyes flashed. Permission had been given; there was no reason to hold back.
"Hoooh……"
He drew in a deep breath and pulled every strand of internal energy from his dantian, driving it into his sword.
Fwoarsh!
A blue aura blazed up along his blade with ferocious intensity.
"Here I come!"
Namgung Hyeon lunged with a war cry.
BOOM!
The instant his foot struck the ground, the floor of the training ground shuddered. Explosive acceleration. In the blink of an eye, Namgung Hyeon's sword rose above Namgung Cheon's head.
The first form of the Changgung Muae Sword Art.
Heavy Mountain Cleaves the Sky.
A grand form said to split the layered mountains and open the heavens. Namgung Hyeon brought his entire internal energy down upon it.
KWAAAA—.
His blade descended, crushing the very air before it — a force worthy of its name.
And Namgung Cheon, watching it fall—
Vmmm!
began to bring his own sword down along the exact same arc.
Heavy Mountain Cleaves the Sky. The same form.
But the essence was unmistakably different. Where Namgung Hyeon's form pressed down like Mount Tai, Namgung Cheon's had been honed to such keenness that it seemed to cleave space itself.
And then—
KWAAAANG!
Two sword astral forces collided head-on in midair.
A thunderous roar tore at their ears as a tremendous shockwave swept across the training ground. The blue stone flagstones cracked, and the dust rising from the fissures swallowed the field of view.
And within that chaos—
Shaahk.
a chilling sound rang out.
"…!"
The faces of the watching warriors went white. It couldn't be. Everyone held their breath, imagining the worst.
A moment later, when the dust settled, the sight that greeted them made them doubt their own eyes.
Namgung Cheon stood, impassive, his sword lowered. His blade, Changcheon, radiated its blue light without a single scratch.
Namgung Hyeon, meanwhile, stared down at his own sword with a blank expression.
At the half of a sword that remained.
"……"
A single exchange.
Though they had clashed using the very same form, Namgung Cheon's sword astral had cut through Namgung Hyeon's sword astral — and through the sword itself — as cleanly as a cleaver through tofu.
An overwhelming gulf.
Namgung Cheon spared no glance for Namgung Hyeon, who had sunk to his knees. Instead, sword lowered, he swept his gaze across the entire training ground.
Dozens of Jinshan Sword Squadron members stared back at him, their breath caught in their throats.
"Your bodies have loosened, I see —"
Namgung Cheon's voice rolled low across the silent arena.
"— so come at me. All of you."
That… is such a thing truly possible?
The Seventh Elder, Namgung Do, could not trust his own eyes. No — rather, he wanted to shut them entirely.
Below the platform, the Great Training Ground had already become an asura's field.
"……"
Namgung Do swallowed dryly. The scene unfolding before him was shaking the fundamentals of martial knowledge he had built over a lifetime to their very roots.
When fifty swordsmen bared their blades at once, their collective force alone ought to crush boulders and shake mountains. All the more so when they were the Jinshan Sword Squadron, a wing of the Cangqiong Four Swords, the pride of the Namgung Clan.
Even if the Jinshan squadron sits at the lowest seat of the Four Swords, they had unfurled the Heavenly Hegemon Nine Palaces Sword Formation —
The Heavenly Hegemon Nine Palaces Sword Formation, deployed by fifty Peak Realm warriors, was an absolute formation from which no master, however great, could easily escape.
And yet Namgung Cheon drifted through the formation as though mocking it, unhurried and at ease.
Crack! Craaang!
Dull, percussive shattering sounds burst out one after another. Each time Namgung Cheon's blade brushed past, the swords of the squadron members snapped helplessly from their hands and spun away into the air.
Nearly twenty blades already lay broken in two, rolling across the ground.
"…Hah."
A groan-like sigh escaped Namgung Do's lips. His hands had clenched into fists without his noticing, the joints whitening with strain.
He had spent his life devoting himself to politics and administrative matters rather than the martial arts, but as an elder of Namgung he possessed at least a basic eye for it. That was precisely why Namgung Cheon's figure struck him as all the more shocking.
That young master… is he truly the same Third Young Master I knew?
Namgung Do shuddered.
The youngest young master he had scorned his entire life. Talented but lazy, a child who had drifted through the corners of the clan with listless, ambitionless eyes. That was why he had felt reassured — and had dismissed him.
But the being standing before him now occupied a realm he could not even begin to comprehend.
Then it happened. A low voice sounded behind him.
"Amusing, is it not? Seventh Elder."
Namgung Do flinched and whirled around.
Standing there — when had he arrived? — was an old-but-youthful man in a worn martial uniform, arms folded across his chest. White hair tied back carelessly with a leather cord, the hems of his clothes caked in dust. His appearance was no different from a wanderer drifting from battlefield to battlefield.
Yet the moment Namgung Do laid eyes on him, his breath caught in his throat.
Why is this man here —
Namgung Do's body went rigid. Anyone else, and he would have barked at them on the spot about their disgraceful appearance. But against this man, he could not possibly presume to. He knew, bitterly and completely, that before this man, both his rank as an elder and his political standing meant nothing at all.
"…So you have come, Elder."
Namgung Do forced out a greeting. The old man gave no reply, merely fixing his gaze on the training ground.
Namgung Do spoke again.
"But what, pray tell, is amusing about this? The clan's elite are being trounced before your very eyes."
At the challenge in his voice, the corner of the old man's mouth twisted upward.
"It is amusing because they are the Jinshan Sword Squadron."
"…?"
"What sword do you think they trained in? The essence of Namgung — the Changgung Muae Sword Art. And yet that child…"
The old man's eyes narrowed. He was tracking Namgung Cheon's every movement without missing a single beat — the subtle shifts of his footwork, the rotation of his wrist, even the rhythm of his breathing.
"He is reading straight through that essence. No — he is toying with it."
"…!"
"He has gone beyond simply reading the path of the sword. From the tremble of muscle to the movement of the eyes, the cadence of breath — he reads all of it, and strikes into the gaps. He severs their strength before it is even given form. That is why their swords break so easily, so emptily."
The old man's eyes gleamed.
"Proof that his understanding of the martial arts towers far, far above the ordinary. So how could it not be amusing? Considered properly, he is playing with seniors more than ten years his elder — the age of this old man himself."
The fire in the old man's eyes burned hotter still. Namgung Do found himself at a loss for words. He wanted to argue — but there were few in the entire clan whose judgment could find fault with this man's discernment. His eye had never once been wrong.
Having finished speaking, the old man's gaze returned to Namgung Cheon. Each time Namgung Cheon deflected a blade, each time he planted his foot, the old man's body responded in kind.
"Ah, there — that one should be answered with the line of Iron Hammer Ascends the Wall… tch."
Murmured regrets to himself. As though standing on the field, blade locked against blade in person, he was fighting the bout a thousand times over in his mind.
Meanwhile, the tumult of the training ground gradually subsided.
At last—
CLANG!
the final Jinshan swordsman's sword went spinning away into the air.
"……"
Several hundred warriors stared at the young master who had conjured such a wondrous sight, having forgotten even how to breathe.
A silence thick with every emotion imaginable settled heavily over the arena.
And then, as though to shatter that stillness—
Thud. Thud.
the old man beside Namgung Do began to walk.
Namgung Do stared at his retreating back, aghast.
He can't mean to —
Where the old man's steps finally stopped was—
"Clan Lord."
directly before Namgung Mugang.
Standing below the platform, the old man continued without hesitation.
"There is no restriction of qualification on this bout, is there?"
At the old man's question, an unusual light entered Namgung Mugang's eyes. Before long, he gazed down at him, a faint smile playing at his lips.
"Indeed, there is not."
At those words, the old man nodded in satisfaction. Then he slowly turned to face Namgung Cheon.
"It has been a long time, hasn't it."
Barely had the greeting ended before he drew his sword with unhurried ease.
Shring—.
The moment the aged blade revealed itself—
KWAAAAAA—!
a colossal force, vast enough to devour everything in its path, erupted from his entire body like a detonation.
Within that overwhelming aura, the old man leveled his sword point at Namgung Cheon and roared loud enough to shake the foundations of the arena.
"Namgung Dan, Master of the Righteous Heaven Hall, formally requests a bout with the Third Young Master!"
Namgung Dan, Master of the Righteous Heaven Hall.
The master of the Jeongcheon Hall, which stood above even the core sword squadrons of the Namgung Clan — Azure Sky, Thunder, Wind and Cloud, Suppressing Mountain.
A sword freak who stood at the very limit of the Transcendent Realm, knocking upon the wall that lay beyond it.
And—
"Come now, Cheon-ah. Let's have a proper go at it, you and I."
Namgung Cheon's own uncle.
The Heavenly Demon of Namgung
Author | Baek Rihaeng
Publisher | Samyang C&C Co., Ltd.
Editor-in-Charge | Editorial Department
Published by | Samyang C&C Co., Ltd. — Dreambooks
Address | 7F, Gwangseong Building, 28 Bongeunsa-ro 114-gil, Gangnam-gu, Seoul
ISBN | 979-11-7306-734-1
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