Chapter 7
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: An Iron Sword's Life
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The child's eyes, fixed on the wooden sword, sparkled. His pupils, as if holding a cluster of stars, contained a powerful force I couldn't resist.
I soon led Namgung Byeok to a place where he could sit and lean.
After spreading out the cotton cloth Id brought to wipe my sweat and sitting him down, I brought my face close to his and deliberately narrowed my eyes.
I will show you, but you must not, absolutely not, come any closer.
Okay!
He was good at answering, at least.
Watching the small, adorable child unable to take his eyes off the wooden sword, I walked to the center of the training grounds. The childs innocent appearance disarmed my heart.
I'm not usually like this.
I tried to deny it as I gripped the wooden sword.
The wooden sword fit snugly in my hand.
The wooden sword I hadn't held even once since An Baek scolded me for practicing the Great Expansion Art.
I even recalled him sternly warning me never to swing a sword when he wasn't watching, but I couldn't be bothered with such troublesome steps just to show one or two forms.
Grip the wooden sword, slash. Thrust, and swing.
Isn't that what swordsmanship is?
Showing just that would have been enough.
But as soon as I gripped the wooden sword, a sword art naturally came to mind.
The Ten Forms of the Iron Sword.
And the Thirteen Thunders of Lightning Flash.
Between the two, I favored the Ten Forms of the Iron Sword.
The Ten Forms of the Iron Sword.
It is a crude and incredibly rough sword art.
The joys, sorrows, angers, and pleasures of an iron sword, born from relentless hammering and endless quenching.
The Ten Forms of the Iron Sword could be said to contain the life of a single iron sword.
Some wish for flexibility, to bend without breaking.
And many do not desire to be rigid, preferring a bent posture from the start.
But the life of an iron sword...
The life of an iron sword is to break rather than bend.
It began to unfold from the bladeless wooden sword I held.
Imbued with the insights that the Namgung Byeok of my past life had poured his entire existence into achieving.
It slashed through the empty air.
And thrust at the same time.
Twisting my waist, I used my tautly pulled muscles, yet even in the moments they loosened, the wooden sword moved without rest.
The memories of swinging it on the blood-soaked battlefield resurfaced.
If I didn't swing, I would die.
If I didn't die, someone with whom I had shared life and death yesterday would.
To avoid losing such people, I had to swing again.
I poured Namgung Byeok's will into the life of a single iron sword.
Killing intent was imbued into the tip of the once-crude sword art.
The monotonous sword tip transformed into an art that was extremely concise and practical.
The emotions contained at the sword's tip had to be excluded as I swung.
A life-giving sword, meant to save people.
And at the same time, a killing sword, with the will to kill.
The sword tip headed somewhere.
Thwack!
At the same time, I coughed up blood and was sent flying.
An Baek, who rarely showed his emotions, found himself muttering about his insolent nephew.
To think he'd refuse so flatly.
At the boy's reply, delivered with an utterly dry gaze and expression, An Baek clicked his tongue and lowered his head.
You weren't like this before, but you seem rather impatient lately, Master An.
The Nanny watched her nephew's retreating back, then turned to An Baek with an unconcerned expression.
Is that so.
In a way, he supposed it could look like he was pestering him.
It had only been half a year since the boy had shed his ruffian ways after his amnesia.
You said you would just wait, but if you start digging at his painful wounds again, wouldn't anyone say no?
True enough.
An Baek becoming his guardian meant igniting the flames of the succession contest. And hadn't the boy already felt the bloody storm that arose from such a contest?
Had he been a little too hasty?
Had he been unintentionally tightening the noose around the boy's neck?
...I have to admit it.
Is it because of the other young lords?
An Baek nodded.
He had felt an unconscious sense of urgency seeing the other sons of the Namgung family gradually establishing themselves. The recent conversation with the elders had hit him particularly hard. Moreover, his nephew's efforts, as if he had come to his senses, didn't seem bad either, if only he would abandon his useless insistence on the Great Expansion Art.
If only a talent for the sword could be discovered...
It had filled him with a strange hope that it wasn't too late.
Swallowing his disappointment, An Baek let out an involuntary groan.
Even this much is a big change. The Great Young Lord is changing day by day. I can't presume to express the sorrow of losing his mother or the heavy responsibility that comes with his title, but I know one thing for sure.
...I'm curious what that is.
It's because your deep-rooted trust, Master An, has become his foundation that the Great Young Lord can stand tall now. So... if you just wait a little longer, he'll come to you first.
This was the nanny who had cleaned up after his nephew since the day his sister gave birth to him. She had watched over the Great Young Lord for far longer than An Baek himself, so her words struck a deep chord in his heart.
An Baek, his tense lips finally relaxing, was able to smile at the Nanny.
That had been the case, certainly.
...Crazy.
From the tip of the boy's wooden sword as he swung it in the training grounds, he smelled the thick scent of blood. It was just like the moments when An Baek himself faced heretics and demonic practitioners. It was merely ten strikes, a basic sword form, but An Baek could feel it.
That is not the sword form I showed him.
The tip of the sword, as if it had a will of its own, was aimed at someone. At the adorable child standing closest.
At the same time, the shadow on the ground where An Baek stood vanished with a thump.
I opened my eyes. A sense of exhaustion so profound that I couldn't even lift a finger dominated my body.
The internal energy in my dantian, once the size of a chestnut, was completely empty as if it had been sucked out, and the streams of energy I had distributed between my blood and energy vessels had also dried up.
It seemed I had unconsciously imbued my internal energy while performing the Ten Forms of the Iron Sword.
Ugh.
Only after blinking a few times did I realize this was my bedchamber.
At the same time, a stinging pain throbbed in both my palms.
They're no better than rags.
Hearing a familiar voice from somewhere, I turned my head to look at my palms.
The skin on my calloused palms was completely peeled away, leaving them looking like tattered rags.
I'm sure I told you. Not to pick up a sword while I'm away.
At his blunt yet calm tone, I didn't even blink.
In a family of swordsmen, telling someone not to pick up a sword is hardly reasonable. How is that any different from leaving a fish with a cat and telling it not to eat?
I thought it was a plausible excuse and that I had gotten away with it, but my uncle shook his head.
Even when that child was nearly hurt?
At those words, I lifted my head.
The tip of your sword was ultimately aimed at that child. If I hadn't appeared, he would have been seriously injured.
...This time, I was truly in his debt. From the way he spoke, it seemed my uncle had appeared at the right moment to prevent a disaster.
Next time... I won't do it again.
Where did you learn it?
I couldn't tell him the truth. Even if I did, he wouldn't believe me.
I was merely trying to imitate the sword you showed me, Uncle.
Are you trying to say that was the Ten Forms of the Iron Sword? I have never once taught you such a sword intent.
Doesn't sword intent change depending on the mindset of the one who wields it?
At my words, my uncle's gaze grew complex and subtle.
...It was a mercilessly dispassionate sword. Unadorned and dry.
At the same time, my uncle let out a deep sigh.
Are you all right?
What is there to not be all right about?
Looking into my uncle's eyes, which held a heavy atmosphere, I unconsciously turned my head away.
In that gaze...
There was no cruel pity.
No cheap sympathy.
But the gaze from days past.
The kind of look I had only ever seen from my sole family member.
Yes.
It was probably worry, or some similar emotion.
Where did the child go?
I changed the subject. At the same time, I quickly shook myself off and sat up.
Something of an unbearably itchy nature was felt around my heart, making it extremely difficult to endure. As if sensing this, my uncle spoke quietly as I tried to get up.
Don't overthink it. Even if I become your guardian, nothing will change immediately.
At those words, I stopped.
Don't you want to protect that child?
...When did he...
You couldn't take your eyes off Namgung Byeok, the Fifth Young Lord, and Lady Baek. I don't know the reason, but think about it deeply. There's no need to misinterpret my words about standing behind you. It simply means your words and actions will carry more weight.
It seems he noticed my occasional glances. Having said all he wanted to say, An Baek turned around.
The child is fine, so take care of yourself first.
Leaving me in a daze, An Baek opened the door and left.
After a few days of thorough rest and recovery, I left my footprints on the training grounds, my muscles now taut and swollen rather than loose.
The conversation with An Baek, my uncle, was still vivid in my mind.
A guardian.
It was preposterous.
Once someone becomes a guardian,
and the succession contest begins in earnest,
it soon degenerates into a political battle.
Of course, it would be a necessary fight. But I judged that it was too soon.
The ideology of seating the rightful family head,
and political views on the legitimacy of the Namgung family,
would be used as a cover as everyone began to indulge in their own interests, rushing in with bloodshot eyes.
The ones who would be scratched, wounded, and left to fester from it all would be none other than the young lords of the Namgung family.
Myself, the Second, Third, and Fourth Young Lords included.
And even Namgung Byeok, the Fifth Young Lord.
Namgung Byeok, my past self, had not been swept up in that vortex. No, from the beginning, he had neither the capability nor the reason to be involved.
No talent, no connections, not even a background.
There was naturally no one to take my insignificant hand and lead me, and it seemed I was judged to have so little value that no one even thought of using me.
Well, the fact that the family's young lords eventually came to me and extended their hands after I rose to the rank of Commander of a Thousand was a clear sign of success, I suppose.
Anyway.
I felt that now was not the time.
I had certainly thought so, but...
Little brother. Would you like to learn this? You are also of the Namgung family, so you should learn the family's core arts in time, lest you fall further behind.
A scene faintly remaining in my memory was being reenacted.
The moment I went to see Namgung Byeok, a boy was handing him a manual.
In the boy's eyes as he looked at his younger brother, Namgung Byeok, there was neither goodwill nor affection. It was certainly not a gaze a boy of about ten should have.
...Namgung Gyeon.
It was the Fourth Young Lord, Namgung Gyeon.