Chapter 50
Translator: penny
Chapter: 50
Chapter Title: Sparring the Heir
"I was on my way to meet the Sword Phoenix because they say she's beautiful. Since she might end up as my wife, I got curious and looked into her on my own."
In response to my bold declaration, Cheon Seonwu's face twisted in utter bewilderment.
"Your... wife?"
"That's right. Is it such a grave sin for a man to try and make a good impression on a woman?"
Since I'd started down this path, I decided to see it through with shameless bravado.
Of course, back in my Lecherous Demon days, this would've been unthinkable.
'But now I'm a righteous sect member who's openly revealed his clan.'
At this point, it probably just made me look like a forthright fellow.
Cheon Seonwu gave a faint nod at my demeanor before clearing his throat belatedly.
"Ahem, well, any hot-blooded young man might do the same..."
I cut him off before he could say more, thrusting out my palm.
"In that case, may I have my book back now?"
Cheon Seonwu handed it over with a reluctant expression.
He had no real comeback for that.
'I'm not exactly plotting anything nefarious.'
I tucked the book into my robes and bowed my head politely.
"If that's all, may I take my leave?"
Deep down, I wanted to bolt regardless of permission, but honestly, I wasn't confident I could shake him.
He'd already tailed me this far, and I hadn't even noticed until he was right beside me.
'What a monstrous old codger.'
The best policy with guys like him was to avoid contact altogether.
But Cheon Seonwu shook his head, clearly not planning to let me go.
"It's not that I don't believe you, but there are too many suspicious bits. I've never even heard of this 'Mok Family Clan'... I think I'll need to inspect your martial arts firsthand."
True to his reputation as the Martial Emperor, he immediately demanded a look at my skills to detain me.
Cold sweat trickled down my back.
'Damn it, does it really have to end with me getting pummeled?'
I knew the Cheon family's temperament all too well from our past bad blood.
They talked a good game about friendly spars, but breaking a bone or two was par for the course with them.
And their pinnacle, Cheon Seonwu himself, stood right before me.
"I don't see why I should demonstrate my family's heirloom arts before a total stranger. I acknowledge you're stronger than me, elder, so please let me go."
Mok Jimyeong tucked tail.
Anyone else, maybe—but the Martial Emperor? No chance in hell.
Cheon Seonwu let out a hollow chuckle at my deferential tone.
"Elder...? Haha, what an amusing title."
He seemed to bristle at "elder," a vein faintly bulging on his forehead.
Come to think of it, Cheon Seonwu was only in his mid-fifties now.
I'd gotten mixed up remembering him as over eighty from my Lecherous Demon days.
'Damn. He looks exactly the same.'
Incredibly, his appearance hadn't changed a bit even after thirty years.
Worried the pissed-off guy might suddenly swing at me, I rested my hand on my sword hilt and tensed up.
Cheon Seonwu just laughed heartily.
"Forget it. It wouldn't be right for me, your senior by decades, to cross hands with a junior like you. Hold on a moment."
'Huh? The Martial Emperor isn't fighting me himself?'
Music to my ears—I'd already braced for a beating.
As I sighed in relief, his son Cheon Woojin arrived.
"Huff... huff... Father, why did you rush off like that, leaving only traces behind...?"
Apparently, Cheon Seonwu had left markers while chasing me.
'Truly a monstrous old codger.'
Who was I? Mok Jimyeong, who'd once clashed with the entire martial world (or rather, been hunted by it).
Not only had he snuck up on me undetected, but he'd left traces his own son could follow.
Once Cheon Woojin caught his breath, he finally recognized me and tilted his head.
"Huh...? Isn't that the guy from the inn earlier?"
"You two spar. Let's see what you've got."
Cheon Seonwu promptly pitted me against his son like he'd been waiting for this.
'Fight this kid...?'
This greenhorn?
Still, infinitely better than tangling with the Martial Emperor.
At least I wouldn't get wrecked.
That said, it stung my pride a bit.
'He's probably scraping peak pinnacle or barely transcendent at best.'
Even that was absurd for his age, of course.
As far as I knew, Cheon Woojin was twenty-six now.
Considering the Five Dragons and Five Phoenixes—top late-genius talents—were usually just entering pinnacle, he'd already surpassed that realm.
However...
'Doesn't that old man know I'm at the Profound realm?'
Cheon Seonwu had already gauged my exact level.
And for someone who knew the gap that represented to pull this stunt? Baffling.
Maybe it was just me—Cheon Woojin also frowned and protested.
"Father, you're telling me to spar with someone who looks way younger than me? That's going too far."
I couldn't help but chuckle.
'This one's a frog in a well, too.'
He'd said that because, after my Reversal Ghost Needle, I gave off no detectable inner energy.
But shouldn't the very fact I'd reached this place at this hour have tipped him off?
'Did he forget we were chasing me hard just now?'
As I shot Cheon Seonwu a bewildered look, he cleared his throat awkwardly and scolded his son.
"Quiet! When your father speaks, you listen nicely...! If you don't want to spar this young man, then spar with me instead!"
Cheon Woojin flinched in surprise.
He glanced at me belatedly with an apologetic look.
"Sorry about this. My father sometimes gets like that, charging ahead recklessly... But I won't hurt you."
What to do now?
Part of me wanted to smash him with a Deathblow and drop him cold, but doing that in front of Cheon Seonwu felt too risky.
I glanced at Cheon Seonwu, who sighed and spoke up.
"Same goes for you. If you half-ass it trying to hide your skills, you'll be sparring me next."
I shrugged casually.
"He's your son. Think I can even go all out without being scared?"
"As long as he's not crippled, there'll be no retaliation. So give it your all."
"You promise, elder?"
With legal carte blanche to thrash him, I grinned.
Cheon Woojin belatedly furrowed his brow.
"Little brother. What do you mean by that?"
He hadn't caught on yet.
No need to spell it out.
'Can't use the Heavenly Extreme Sword Art, can I...?'
Cheon Seonwu, glaring intently over there, might lock me up on the spot.
Demanding to know where I got it from.
Similarly, the myriad supreme arts in my head felt too risky to deploy.
'Don't want another Chu Munrak fiasco.'
Just like no one knew Formless Finger was Chu Munrak's signature until it was too late— who knew how deploying a Martial Emperor-linked art might play out.
Thus, only one option: the Mok Family Clan's heirloom, the Mok Heaven Sword Art.
'Not the best for a beatdown, though...'
The Mok Heaven Sword Art embodied the principles of heaviness.
Outcomes boiled down to two: kill or suppress.
Suppression required stylishly halting the blade just shy of contact.
Otherwise, instant mush.
Aiming for limbs was possible, but premised on shattering bones.
'And if he ends up crippled, I'm screwed.'
That's why the Heavenly Extreme Sword Art was perfect.
Flashy thrashing without lasting damage.
I sighed deeply and extended my sheathed sword.
No need to draw for this punk anyway.
'Easier for pounding this way.'
I glanced at Cheon Seonwu for approval—he seemed fine with it, offering no objection.
Cheon Woojin, however, bristled indignantly.
"You're going to fight me with the scabbard?!"
"Enough talk. Come at me."
I wiggled the sheath, and he scowled.
He checked his father's gaze, then drew his sword.
"Fine. I'll test your skills myself!"
He closed in instantly, swinging.
Heavenly Extreme Sword Art.
Beyond Heaven.
His blade split into seven prongs targeting me in a flash.
Unlike that Jang punk's meager three, this showed real proficiency.
'Impressive, but...'
I swung the sheathed sword upward from below.
Clang-!
The seven incoming strikes vanished, leaving just one.
"Urk, what the...?"
In that single clash, Cheon Woojin stumbled back three steps to regain his footing.
"Ho, so that's the Mok Family Clan's sword art?"
Cheon Seonwu, watching from the side, inquired with keen interest.
I replied indifferently.
"Sword art? I just swung it."
The Mok Heaven Sword Art had no upward sweeps.
Just downward chops, varied in execution.
'That's why it's rated second-rate.'
"Hmm, already transcending forms? Not just realm, but deep insight into the art too."
Yet Cheon Seonwu nodded, having glimpsed the art's essence in my sheathed swing.
The Martial Emperor earned his title.
'Using anything else might really screw me over.'
Got to be careful not to slip into Heavenly Extreme by mistake.