Breaking the Wall
Moments earlier.
“Auntie.”
On the street before Wongak-jeong, Yeon Seo-rin—Second Young Mistress of the Luoyang Sword Clan, known as Cheonui Mubong, the Heavenly Seamless Robe—stood with the sunset at her back and offered her old master a wry smile.
“Are you still afraid to meet So-hyeon face to face?”
“Afraid?!”
At her all-too-blunt and direct phrasing, the Guard Pavilion Master flushed redder than the evening sky and snapped.
“What could I possibly have to fear from that boy?!”
“Then why, exactly…”
Yeon Seo-rin heaved a deliberate sigh.
“…have you come all this way only to kill time out here on the street instead of stepping into Wongak-jeong?”
“Th-that is—!”
Caught dead-center by his former disciple’s thrust, the Guard Pavilion Master stammered—just as cries rose from the crowd around them.
“That—!”
“It’s the Eldest Young Master…!”
Both of them turned as one.
“This Eldest Young Master, Yeon So-hyeon, will accept your challenge.”
The white mask he had stripped away and flung skyward caught the glow of the setting sun. It rose high, spun on the wind, and began its slow descent—once, twice—flashing crimson with every turn, dancing as it fell.
And the instant that mask touched the earth—
“…Sword Clan Sword Art. Geomsim Geommyeong—Sword Heart, Sword Chiming.”
In keeping with the forms of a formal duel, Elder Paeng’s voice rang out as he announced his technique.
Surging Wave
Elder Paeng’s body, coiled tight and packed with devastating force, exploded into motion.
Something was still lacking; he had not yet crossed the wall. Yet the swordcraft he had spent a lifetime building was nothing anyone could dismiss.
And as if he had anticipated every beat of it—
“Sword Heart, Sword Chiming. Drawing Sword Form.”
The Eldest Young Master’s lips moved at almost the same instant.
“True Essence: Surging Wave.”
The same technique name left his mouth. His right hand settled into the shape of the sword-finger seal—and in that flicker of a moment—
Sshhk—
Had a blade of light simply grazed past them?
Elder Paeng’s own sword had clearly drawn first. They had even used the same form. Yet it was the Eldest Young Master’s sword-finger that landed first.
“Ohh…?!”
“I couldn’t see it…!”
“Is that the sword-finger from the rumors?!”
True to the name Surging Wave, the Eldest Young Master’s swordsmanship sent a shockwave through the gathered crowd.
“Khuh…?!”
A groan tore from Elder Paeng’s throat. The invisible sword-finger had struck his blade and wrenched his wrist for a heartbeat. Yet in that same instant, a smile touched the old man’s wrinkled lips—the smile of a young warrior from the Paeng Clan who had once known nothing but the sword.
Howling North Wind
Elder Paeng’s ringing cry filled the air. His rebounding blade and body spun a full circle where he stood; the long front leg that finished the turn scraped the ground and kicked up dust.
He poured the full rebound of the Eldest Young Master’s terrifying sword-strike straight into the blow. The tingling in his right wrist he simply clamped down with his left hand and forced into service.
“Hwaaah—!”
A battle cry burst from him unbidden—and into his ear came the Eldest Young Master’s voice.
“Striking Sword Form. True Essence.”
“Howling North Wind.”
Was this what a winter north wind felt like when it flayed the flesh? A merciless gale tore from the tip of the Eldest Young Master’s sword-finger.
“…Khuhp!”
Both men had struck with a single stroke—yet searing pain raced through Elder Paeng as if every inch of his skin were being shredded. His own blade was swallowed without a trace inside that howling north wind, melting away as though it had never been.
Even so—
“Not yet—!”
Receiving the Howling North Wind with his entire body, Elder Paeng still forced one foot forward. He closed the distance by another step.
“I said not yet, Eldest Young Master!”
Savage Chaos
From his throat burst a sound that was neither scream nor battle cry—something raw and terrible. The fighting spirit that rode it was like a vengeful spirit’s; the crowd flinched back a step without thinking.
“Savage Chaos!”
Had that tingling presence transcended realms and reached the Eldest Young Master’s heart? At last a smile touched Yeon So-hyeon’s lips.
“True Essence: Savage Chaos.”
Centered on the two of them, a storm of iron broke loose.
“Ohh…?”
Yeon Seo-rin’s quiet murmur held unspoken admiration. The Guard Pavilion Master, by contrast, frowned.
Blade and sword-finger crashed together in a chain of impacts that threatened to tear the ears of everyone present. All around, the tip of Elder Paeng’s sword met Yeon So-hyeon’s seal and scattered the sunset light in wild flashes—as if the old man were burning what remained of his life.
But—
“…Hopelessly insufficient.”
The Guard Pavilion Master muttered under her breath. This duel held only because Yeon So-hyeon kept yielding the first strike and refused even to press a pursuit. To one who had already crossed the wall, Elder Paeng’s all-out assault could only feel technically lacking.
“That So-hyeon is a mischievous little bastard.”
She clicked her tongue.
“If he wanted to display his martial arts to the public, there would have been more suitable opponents.”
“Is that so… So-hyeon.”
Her former disciple answered in a deliberately vague tone.
“Is that really his intent?”
The Guard Pavilion Master’s brow creased.
“What do you mean?”
From the first moment of the duel, Yeon Seo-rin had not blinked once as she watched. She spoke without looking away.
“Who can say precisely what that boy is thinking? But…”
She shrugged.
“At the very least, I don’t believe he’s holding this duel for any reason so obvious.”
“Then—”
Whatever the Guard Pavilion Master meant to say was drowned by Elder Paeng’s roar.
“Uuooooooh—!”
He wrung out every last drop of inner energy and drove his storm of wild strikes onward. The tempest of his blade had not lessened in the slightest—yet spirit and grit alone could not sustain a sword forever.
“Khahk—!”
At last even wringing reached its limit. Elder Paeng spat black, dead blood from his mouth.
“…It’s over.”
The Guard Pavilion Master was not the only one who felt it. Amid the ringing crash of steel, the entire crowd watched in silence.
He had loved the sword.
Born of the Paeng Clan, the first weapon he had ever gripped was a heavy saber. The one he finally chose was a single sword.
“You mean to take up the sword?!”
“Have you no shame as a member of the Paeng Clan?!”
“And a direct descendant, at that?!”
He left his house under a rain of bitter words from family and kin.
“You are no longer one of us!”
Pain and anguish filled his days—yet the moment his hand closed on a sword, he could forget everything. That was why he chose the Luoyang Sword Clan.
“Excellent aptitude. Fine bone structure, sharp senses. However…”
His sword instructor had told the new warrior of the clan:
“You are no genius who will cross the wall.”
As if in defiance of those words, he swung his sword on days of snow, on days of wind and rain, under the blazing sun and through nights of frost.
“Impressive.”
Yet what came back to him was never recognition as a warrior.
“Perhaps you should consider moving into administrative work?”
Somehow, praise always arrived from the direction in which he had invested the least effort.
“Congratulations on ascending to the rank of Elder—no, felicitations!”
“From now on we must address you as Elder Paeng!”
Before he knew it, the years had made him an elder.
“Elder Paeng. We beg of you.”
“You are the one who brings glory to the name of the Hebei Paeng Clan.”
The very people of the Paeng Clan who had once despised him changed their faces completely. Even the father who had cast him out said, until the day he died, “You are the pride of our Paeng Clan!”—and longed for just one more meeting.
But—
“Haha, Elder Paeng, swinging a sword from the crack of dawn?”
His hair had gone white. He had become leader of the Hebei Faction. And still—
“Moderate exercise is excellent for health. I should learn from you, Elder Paeng.”
—as a warrior, he still paced before the wall. Sometimes he felt he had crossed it; the wall still blocked his path. Sometimes he felt he had passed it; the wall clung to his ankles like a swamp.
“Is there truly no way?”
To his desperate question, a renowned master he had secretly invited trailed off.
“Well… given your age… to break through the wall at this point is rather…”
“…I see.”
He fingered his well-worn sword. The sword never answered.
“I see…”
It was time to accept reality. He had loved the sword his entire life. But it had been unrequited love.
“Khahk…!”
Elder Paeng coughed blood. He had driven his aged body past its limits; his meridians could no longer hold. The blade that had woven chaos grew heavy. His whole frame sagged as if weights hung from every limb.
So this is as far as I go…
In the Elder Council Hall he had witnessed the Eldest Young Master’s single stroke, and the heart of his youth had pounded again. But an old body, it seemed, and mediocre talent, could no longer keep pace with will.
Even so—
His lungs, starved of air, heaved. Every muscle he had wrung dry screamed. Even his vision was beginning to blur.
—I have no regrets.
In the instant strength left the hand that gripped his sword—
“Not yet.”
Within the sword-wind the clash had raised, as everything dissolved into haze, only the Eldest Young Master’s voice reached Elder Paeng’s ear with perfect clarity.
“I said not yet, Elder Paeng.”
With those words, the Eldest Young Master’s sword-finger—invisible until that moment—drove straight through the instant and lunged.
“Hup—!”
Had some reserve of strength still remained? How had he even seen it? Elder Paeng’s aged arm and worn blade struck the seal aside on pure reflex.
…!
Even he looked startled at what he had done. Then, without meaning to, a satisfied smile crossed his face.
At the end, at least… it seems I managed to touch it a little…
But the Eldest Young Master’s whisper was not finished.
“What are you doing, smiling all by yourself in satisfaction?”
With those words his sword-strikes leapt another level faster.
“Heup…!”
Hands and feet that would no longer obey him—yet Elder Paeng began, by reflex alone, to beat back the storm of those strikes.
“Not yet.”
The Eldest Young Master’s blade grew faster still.
This is too fa—
“I said not yet!”
A roar burst from the Eldest Young Master’s mouth.
“Khhuhp…!”
His heart felt ready to leap from his throat. Breath control was already impossible. Every vessel in his body seethed as if on fire. He had forgotten where his limbs even were.
“Uuooaaaaaaah—!”
A thunderous battle cry. Elder Paeng thought so—then realized the cry was coming from his own mouth.
“Faster!”
From the Eldest Young Master’s sword-finger now poured sword-forms Elder Paeng himself did not know—the secret true essence of Sword Heart, Sword Chiming:
Severing Chaos
“Stronger!”
As if answering the Eldest Young Master’s roar—
“More precise!”
—as if answering the Eldest Young Master’s sword-forms—
“Guuoooooooh—!”
Selflessness. Having forgotten even himself, Elder Paeng’s sword-edge shattered the sunset, scattering crimson sword-light.
And he understood.
In this very moment—
he had broken through the wall.