Who Was I?

A meteor shower of swords came pouring down.

Like a driving cloudburst blotting out the world ahead, a rain of meteors — each one the trail of a blade — swallowed every inch of the sky.

"That's..."

Namgung Muyoung's voice shook.

The space before them vanished behind countless stars falling from heaven. Muhwa, watching, spoke as if a distant memory had just surfaced.

"The title Heavenly Edge Sword Star... now you understand, Muyoung."

Those who rise by the sword to the most revered station in the martial world are called Sword Saints, written with the character for holy. Sword Saints have been countless across the ages. If a man founds a school by the blade and becomes a master of martial learning, then every era of Murim has always had its one Sword Saint.

And yet those who hear Namgung Jinbaek's title always tilt their heads, just once.

Heavenly Edge Sword Star.

A title that points not to a saint, but to a star. A rare calling indeed. They always wondered why. Not Sword Saint. Not Sword King. Not even Sword Venerable. A star made of swords.

If it were his own father — a proud absolute master ranked among the Ten Great Masters — would he not be a Sword Saint, risen to reverence in his field?

"That's the reason."

At Muhwa's words, Muyoung and Seowol alike closed their mouths.

Stars poured down.

From the heavens they fell — countless stars forged of blades, born of sword-strikes. Why a title that meant a star beyond the farthest edge of heaven, a star no journey could ever reach — Muyoung understood it now.

A suffocating silence settled over them. No one could easily find their voice. The overwhelming martial might Namgung Jinbaek had just unveiled, and Teacher Sun, who had faced it without so much as a flicker of disturbance — the sheer, distant divinity of it sealed their lips.

So strong...

Namgung Seowol's face slowly twisted. It hurt.

Whenever she saw a stronger martial art, a greater master, her eyes had always lit up. It meant another goal she could reach, another height she could climb.

A faint memory from her earliest childhood surfaced.

Namgung Seowol had taken up a sword that looked magnificent. A single goal: to swing it as splendidly as her father had. That alone had driven her forward with fierce intensity. And somehow, as the years passed, everything else in the world fell away, until only the sword remained.

From time to time her uncle Namgung Jinbaek would say it — that his own sword could never even reach his elder brother's heels.

And so Seowol's face was twisted with pain. She could not believe it. She could not be sure that she would ever, someday, present a sword more magnificent than the meteor shower of blades Namgung Jinbaek was showing them now.

A strange man.

And yet Seowol's eyes kept turning to Sun Wukong alone. Strangely, her gaze lingered only on his face.

He was smiling. He had been smiling the whole time. From a light chuckle to a snort of laughter, a hollow laugh, a mischievous grin — and at last, a great beaming smile. It was the look of a man so delighted by the fight itself that he might go mad with joy.

He looked strong. Stronger than Namgung Jinbaek's qi-laden blade, swung with everything he had — Sun Wukong's smile was stronger still.

Something stronger than the sword.

Whether to call it composure, or bearing, or attitude — she could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not quite say. What was certain: Sun Wukong was stronger than Namgung Jinbaek, here and now.

The pain twisting Seowol's face began, slowly, to ease. A faint smile surfaced. A single thread of a smile, appearing on that expressionless face — enough to startle anyone who might have seen it. It vanished at once, so no one saw. Everyone was watching the falling stars.

And through those meteors, a single golden stroke laced with crimson was drawn.

It was an honest trajectory. A clean, unadorned line split the meteor storm. A single stroke. One swing — a cutting blow that severed everything. The golden flash, shot through with red, was drawn — and the meteor storm vanished entirely.

"Huh."

A trajectory that seemed to draw a thick line, carving out a boundary. A deep silence settled once more.

Namgung Jinbaek's fingertips trembled. The tip of his sword slowly tilted toward the ground, and at last fell from his grip, powerless. It was too hard to hold. There was no strength left in his arm.

It had been the final form of the Sovereign Sword Form, unleashed with everything he had. The form that the founding ancestor Namgung Ryong had been unable to complete — that later generations had researched, refined, and at last perfected. The instant that final form was broken was a pain that tore the guts.

Through the fading trails of the sword, Sun Wukong's golden hair fluttered into view. And through it, a pale face. Red eyes with golden pupils. And a refreshing laugh.

"Huh."

Namgung Jinbaek let out a hollow laugh. The empty pain he had just felt suddenly embarrassed him. Sun Wukong was laughing purely, as if this entire bout had been nothing but joy.

His appearance, however, told a different story. His clothes were torn in places, bare skin showing through. The exposed flesh was scored with countless wounds, blood soaking darkly through.

Namgung Jinbaek's brow twitched. Had he failed to cut down every last falling sword-trail?

Namgung Jinbaek, by contrast, stood on both feet without a single wound. His clothes were tattered and his hair was a wild mess, but he had not shed a drop of blood.

Sun Wukong, covered in wounds. Namgung Jinbaek, who had dropped his sword. If one had to call it, it was Namgung Jinbaek's defeat — the man who had lost his blade. No matter how many wounds he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had inflicted, to drop one's sword mid-fight was to die.

Of course, it was not an overwhelming victory for Sun Wukong.

No. That's not it.

Namgung Jinbaek denied it fiercely.

The reason not a single wound remains on my body.

That much is obvious.

Teacher Sun simply didn't leave any.

That is all.

A realization struck him, and his body trembled. That final golden slash Sun Wukong had shown.

I could not have blocked it.

It had been a killing blow. A slash that would have meant certain death. A vicious fang, aimed to sever the artery in his throat. Sun Wukong had known it could not be blocked, could not be evaded. Had he poured everything into it, Namgung Jinbaek would surely have died. Sun Wukong had deliberately failed to erase every falling trail, and taken them with his own body.

"Heh heh heh..."

A hollow laugh spilled from Namgung Jinbaek's lips.

How vast... the gap between us.

It was staggering. And at the same time, a light of awe gathered in his eyes.

The absolute masters called the Three Venerables. The Five Tyrants Beyond the Pass, whose level could not be measured but who were rumored to rival the Three Venerables. Even the Four Heavenly Kings, living freely in retirement. Every shadow had stood before him.

But there was one shadow he had always believed he could never dare to step upon.

The shadow of the Sword God.

And now, beside it, Sun Wukong's shadow had appeared as well.

Namgung Jinbaek bowed deeply at the waist in the most respectful of manners, clasping his fists in salute.

"I thank you for the lesson. This Namgung has today opened his eyes wide."

"Well, learning is something we share, isn't it? I learned a great deal myself."

Sun Wukong's tone was not mere humility. Sincerity could be felt in it.

Namgung Jinbaek smiled faintly. Even from an incomplete sword, he had learned and felt so much?

The fight was over, but the surroundings remained quiet. Muhwa, Muyoung, and Seowol had all lost their words. Having witnessed martial might of an entirely different dimension with their own eyes, their hearts could not help but be unsettled. A small inner demon stirred.

Sun Wukong glanced at them and spoke.

The three of them stared quietly at Sun Wukong. Under the sudden weight of their gazes, Sun Wukong looked awkward and twirled a lock of his hair.

It was an esoteric thing to say. But Namgung Jinbaek, who had been listening quietly, suddenly took on a grave expression and began to chew over those words. The three of them, too, seemed to feel something — their eyes narrowed, or closed entirely.

Sun Wukong looked around at them and let out a wry laugh.

"No wonder you're all one family. You're exactly the same."

Sun Wukong smiled faintly and slipped away from the spot. Walking slowly away, he was certain of one thing.

"Anyone who messes with the Namgung clan from now on is going to get wrecked."

The Namgung Clan's blade would be honed even sharper. And Sun Wukong intended to take that blade in his own hand and swing it.

Wait for me, eldest brother.

Sun Wukong's eyes flashed with a chilling light.

They had been ready to split at once and move — some toward Hubei, others toward Henan where the Wulin Alliance stood — but for a moment, everyone came to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a halt.

Naturally. Namgung Jinbaek himself had secluded himself in his chambers, having apparently grasped some thread of enlightenment. And not only him. Muhwa, Namgung Muyoung, and Seowol were the same. Every Namgung present had seized a thread of enlightenment, and they were racing forward with everything they had.

Sun Wukong was no exception. Countless afterimages painted themselves across his mind.

What I saw in the hidden cave was the original form, literally.

The sword-traces of the founding ancestor Namgung Ryong that he had seen in the hidden cave were different from Namgung Jinbaek's. Generations had reinterpreted, researched, and refined them countless times. The path the Namgung Clan had developed and polished alongside history itself was contained in that sword form.

Sun Wukong had carved all of it into his mind. Using the sword-traces from the hidden cave as a foundation, he had already created his own forms and techniques. In the form of a staff, he had completed his own Sovereign Sword Form.

But the final portion had been left empty even in the hidden cave. Sun Wukong, too, had found it hard to fill. He could have invented it himself, of course. For Sun Wukong, that much would have been nothing. But a completion born of his will alone would no longer be the Sovereign Sword Form.

Through what Namgung Jinbaek had shown him just now, Sun Wukong understood. He had found the thread.

Sun Wukong looked at his steel staff and smiled faintly.

That final completion...

He would have to make it something he could actually handle.

When I reclaim the Ruyi Jingu Bang, I will complete it.

His eyes curved into crescents. As if he were so delighted he could barely stand it.

"What has you so pleased?"

At that moment, Namgung Jinbaek's voice drifted in. Sun Wukong let out a wry laugh despite himself. He hadn't easily sensed the man's presence. He glanced over, and saw eyes holding a clear, refined light.

Sun Wukong grinned as if he found it amusing.

"Looks like you've broken through a wall."

"I'm still far behind my elder brother."

"You're still in the prime of youth."

"Youth? If Muyoung had just married early, I'd be looking at a granddaughter by now."

Namgung Jinbaek tossed out the joke without any formality. Had anyone else seen them, they would have taken the two for the closest of friends, so warm was the atmosphere.

Namgung Jinbaek looked at Sun Wukong with a smile tinged with regret.

"I have shown and shared everything I have. You are a man of the Namgung now."

"What's with the sudden formality."

"I have felt that I must devote myself further. It seems Teacher Sun and we share the same enemy, for now. This is a truly shameless request, but..."

Namgung Jinbaek hesitated, then spoke.

Sun Wukong did not answer at once. He simply looked at Namgung Jinbaek.

Namgung Jinbaek felt a touch of puzzlement. Sun Wukong had always looked at him as if observing him. But from some point onward, the look in his eyes had changed.

Like looking at someone he had known long ago. A glad, warm gaze.

When had it started?

That's right. When I entrusted him with Muyoung's treatment and earnestly asked for his help.

From that moment, Sun Wukong's expression and eyes had changed. The very feeling of the gaze that looked upon him was different.

It was the same now. A face full of thought.

Namgung Jinbaek asked carefully.

"There is something I felt when Teacher Sun first came to the Namgung Clan."

"What is it?"

"A sense that we might have met before. A familiarity. In my heart, I even felt I wanted to become sworn brothers, just to keep the bond."

"Sworn brothers, huh. We couldn't manage it in the old days, so we might as well do it now."

"The old days? So we really have met before?"

"...Want to hear an interesting old story?"

"An old story?"

Sun Wukong opened his mouth. As he listened, Namgung Jinbaek's expression shifted through a dozen colors.

How much time passed? Namgung Jinbaek laughed with a thoroughly delighted face.

"A story this entertaining ought to be told over drinks. Ahem. So what you're saying is, Teacher Sun came down from Heaven to find Tang Sanzang — and you are the real Great Sage, Equal to Heaven."

"That's right."

"Hahahaha. And that monk you've been dragging around is Sha Wujing."

"That's right too."

"And what's more — Muhwa, whom I think of as my own adopted daughter, is that pig demon, Zhu Bajie."

"That's right as well."

Hearing that much, Namgung Jinbaek burst out with a great laugh. How long did he laugh? Wiping the tears that had gathered at the corners of his eyes with a finger, Namgung Jinbaek suddenly said:

"That's right. You said I was tangled up in that fate as well. Then what was I in my past life? Who was I to you, Teacher Sun?"

At those words, Sun Wukong looked at Namgung Jinbaek with a quiet smile. It was a distant, wistful gaze.

Sun Wukong smiled brightly. Truly, as if he were glad.