The Killing Sword
After the fierce duel with Gwak San, hunger finally caught up with Namgung Cheon.
Before deciding on his next destination, he resolved to rest a while and take a meal. The place he chose was a shabby little tavern well off the bustling main road. Compared to the noisy, crowded inns of the city, it was quiet here—a good spot to eat in peace. A few other patrons were present, but whether it was the drink or mere indifference, none of them paid him any mind. Namgung Cheon took a seat in the most secluded corner.
He ordered plain somen noodles in a thin broth from the tavern keeper, and just as he raised his chopsticks—
Bang—!
The tavern door burst open, and a man with a saber slung across his back rushed in, his face flushed with excitement. He made straight for a swordsman already seated among his companions and shouted, "Did you hear? The Thunderbolt Sect's leader, Gwak San, has gone into closed-door training!"
The swordsman, who had been tilting a cup of wine, looked at him in puzzlement. "Closed-door training? Why would a man like him, the finest saber master in Anhui, suddenly do that?"
"They say the Namgung Clan's third young master went to the Thunderbolt Sect himself and demanded a duel!"
"What? Haha! You're drunk, friend. That young lord, beating the Thunderbolt Saber, a Peak Realm master? Say something that makes sense." The swordsman roared with laughter.
The other martial artists around them also snickered and shook their heads. Namgung Cheon. Even after receiving the Sword Selection of two blades in recent days, his name in Hefei was still synonymous with the shame of the Sword Emperor, Namgung Mugang.
But the saber-wielding man clicked his tongue as if wronged, raising his voice. "I confirmed it just now through a contact inside the Thunderbolt Sect! According to rumor, Gwak San lost that duel in a single exchange!"
"Ha, is that really true?"
"One exchange…?"
The air in the small, quiet tavern changed in an instant. The sneering laughter died away, replaced by shock and a murmur of disbelief.
Amid the growing commotion, Namgung Cheon calmly brought the somen to his lips. Slurping the noodles, he thought to himself, The rumor travels faster than I expected.
Barely two hours had passed since he left the Thunderbolt Sect, and already the story had spread to this backwater tavern. I should leave before this becomes a nuisance.
As the clamor swelled around him, he quietly emptied his bowl, rose from his seat, dropped a few coins on the table, and left the tavern without a second glance.
Now it was time to face his next opponent. The Thunderbolt Saber, Gwak San. His skill was decent, but his was a typical Orthodox sect martial art.
Orthodox techniques had a clearly defined framework, which made them easy to dismantle once you saw the shape of them. This time, I should face someone with a bit more tenacity.
The image of a fighter whose style was the polar opposite of Gwak San's rose in his mind. The killing sword….
A cold smile settled on Namgung Cheon's lips. That should make an interesting opponent.
His steps left behind the bustling heart of Hefei. Along the deserted outskirts, he walked in silence toward a sprawling estate.
The Blood Sword Gang. A gang of the Unorthodox Path that ruled Hefei's shadows. Their headquarters was outwardly disguised as an ordinary manor, but everyone knew better than to set foot in it uninvited.
And Namgung Cheon now stood before the Blood Sword Gang's main gate. Dressed in a lavish silk martial robe, with two famed swords hanging at his waist, his appearance announced to anyone who saw him that he was no ordinary man.
The guards came forward at the sight of him, brief sneers flickering across their faces. Twin swords were notoriously difficult weapons to wield properly in the Jianghu, and those who attempted them half-heartedly were almost always dismissed as skillless blowhards. Still, as much as they'd like to mock him outright, that outfit gives them pause…
The guards spoke with voices thick with wariness. "Who goes there? This place is off-limits to outsiders."
Namgung Cheon answered in an indifferent tone. "I've come to see your leader."
"…Our Gang Leader?" Bewilderment crossed the guards' faces. "Forgive me, but do you have an appointment?"
"I do not."
"Then turn back. Without an appointment, you cannot see the Gang Leader." Their tone hardened by degrees.
But Namgung Cheon showed no intention of leaving. He repeated, in the same indifferent voice as before, "I've come to see your leader. Step aside."
At that insolent attitude, the guards' patience finally ran out. "We try to be civil and this is what we get! Do you even know where you are, causing trouble here!"
Shriing—. Two furious guards drew their swords in the same instant.
A flash. A single arc of blade-light.
Shurk—.
"GRAAAAGH!"
"My—MY ARM! MY ARM!"
Horrible screams tore through the air as the guards' right wrists soared into the sky. Blood gushed from the cleanly severed stumps, and the hands that had gripped the swords tumbled onto the dirt. As if none of it had ever happened, Namgung Cheon was already sliding his blade back into its sheath. He gazed down coldly at the two guards, who thrashed on the ground clutching their severed arms.
"I'll say it once more."
His voice remained indifferent. "I've come to see your leader."
At that moment—
Creeeak—.
The manor's great gate slowly swung open. Dozens of warriors stood within, glaring at him with murderous eyes. And parting through their ranks, a man in a black martial robe slowly emerged: Gal Mu-seong, the Blood Demon Sword, leader of the Blood Sword Gang.
He swept his gaze over his groaning subordinates sprawled on the ground, then over the man standing before them. His eyes narrowed. Refined features, an expensive-looking martial robe. Where have I seen that face before…?
His gaze drifted naturally to Namgung Cheon's waist—and the moment he saw the two swords, he realized that the subject of the rumor his men had reported to him just moments ago was standing right in front of him.
Two swords… the Namgung third young master who broke the Thunderbolt Saber!
Gal Mu-seong swallowed drily despite himself. Forcing composure, he curled his lips into a bitter smile. "Well, if it isn't the precious young master of the Namgung Clan himself. What brings such an honored guest to a place like this?"
Namgung Cheon's expression didn't change a hair as he stated his business. "They say no man has ever laid eyes on the Blood Demon Sword's blade and lived to tell of it. I've come to see whether that rumor is true."
"Your sword, you say?" Gal Mu-seong laughed in sheer disbelief. "So the rumor about you breaking Gwak San is true, then." His eyes turned razor-sharp in an instant. "This is no stage for Orthodox brats to play at fame. Or perhaps…."
Namgung Cheon cut him off. "This is not the will of the Namgung Clan. It is my own, personal affair—Namgung Cheon's alone. The Namgung Clan will hold no one accountable for anything that happens here today. And neither will I."
At that audacious declaration, Gal Mu-seong's face hardened. "…Fine," he said quietly. A green brat who had come wagering his own life with no backing at all. Then there was no reason to hesitate.
"I'll see for myself just how long that bravado of yours lasts. Follow me." With those words alone, he turned and headed into the depths of the manor, and Namgung Cheon followed without a word.
A spacious training ground. The two men faced each other across fifteen feet of packed earth. By now, the grounds were ringed with Blood Sword Gang members who had gathered at the commotion, all intent on watching their leader dismantle the son of the Namgung Clan with their own eyes.
Gal Mu-seong slowly drew the sword at his waist. Shriing—. Adjusting his grip, he began calmly analyzing the situation before him. What in the world is Namgung thinking, coming here in person to provoke me? None of it made sense. However impressive his Sword Selection and his victory over Gwak San might be, a pampered boy like this could never stand against his killing sword. There's some scheme at work, no doubt. But it doesn't matter.
Demonstrate the gulf between them plainly and send the boy home intact, and even the Namgung Clan would not dare make an issue of it.
"Let's begin."
At his words, Namgung Cheon gave a light nod and drew Changcheon. The moment the azure blade revealed itself, Gal Mu-seong's form shot forward.
Swae-ek—!
A thrust that bored into Namgung Cheon's left flank in the blink of an eye.
Tak—.
But a single step rendered the attack utterly meaningless. Unhurried, Gal Mu-seong pressed on, raining down ever more ferocious strikes—and gradually, the distinctive movements of the Unorthodox Path began to surface. A sword that hunted only vital points. Each strike, seemingly ordinary on the surface, would have been a lethal killing blow to any common master, one capable of ending his life on the spot. Yet each time, the blade changed its trajectory just before touching Namgung Cheon's body—a calculated effort to force him into retreat.
But—
Pathetic. Namgung Cheon thought. All feints toward the vitals. He means to frighten me off and send me packing. It was almost funny—that anyone would approach a duel with him thinking that way.
With a light movement, he evaded yet another attack and murmured, "Is this all you have?"
"…!"
Gal Mu-seong's eyes wavered violently. The boy had seen through his intentions completely—and worse, treated the sword he had honed his entire life like a child's toy. A killing intent surged up in him, a murderous urge to sever that neck then and there, but he barely held onto his reason. Calm yourself. He's of the Namgung direct bloodline. Kill him, and there will be repercussions.
But in that instant, the words Namgung Cheon had spoken at the gate flashed through his mind. The Namgung Clan would hold no one accountable. Right—the boy had declared, of his own will, that this was his personal affair. Whether the Namgung Clan truly stayed out of it remained to be seen, but at the very least, those words would give the Blood Sword Gang a flawless justification to invoke if a dispute arose later.
Even if I kill him… there's a way out. The moment that calculation completed, the last bolt of reason holding him back shattered. Unbearable humiliation and the assurance of minimal fallout intertwined, and his hesitation vanished entirely.
I'll kill him.
Fwa-reureuk—.
At last, crimson sword energy began to rise from Gal Mu-seong's blade like mist. "You'll answer for those words."
Kung—!
With a thunderous footfall, Gal Mu-seong's sword hurtled toward Namgung Cheon—a speed and weight incomparable to before. Ka-kang—!
For the first time, Namgung Cheon raised Changcheon and deflected the blow. The clash of steel against steel rang out across the training ground. Now it's finally worth watching.
A killing intent strong enough that every nerve in his body stirred—the murderous will of Gal Mu-seong, tempered through countless battles and slaughters.
Chachang—!
Gal Mu-seong unleashed a barrage of killing blows that no longer deserved the name of a duel—the true face of his signature art, the Blood Wind Sword Technique. No set forms, only instinctive movements devoted solely to ending his opponent's life, assailing Namgung Cheon like a storm.
Namgung Cheon no longer dodged. Ka-kang! Kang! He swung Changcheon to meet the deluge head-on. And then—the corner of his mouth curled upward. No need to hold back any longer.
Chachang—!
With a light parry, he knocked aside the furiously incoming blade and forced Gal Mu-seong back a step. Then, before every watching eye, he slowly slid Changcheon back into its sheath. Chak—.
While Gal Mu-seong hesitated, unable to grasp the meaning of the gesture, Namgung Cheon's hand moved to the sheath on his opposite hip. Shriing—. A black blade emerged, dark enough to swallow every ray of light.
Mukhon revealed itself.
The Heavenly Demon of Namgung
Author | Baek Rihaeng
Publisher | Samyang C&C Co., Ltd.
Managing Editor | Editorial Department
Published by | Samyang C&C Co., Ltd. — Dreambooks
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ISBN | 979-11-7306-734-1
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