Chapter 229
Chapter 229
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 229
Chapter Title: Sparring Match
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'But now, what should I do?'
He had declared with great enthusiasm that he would attend the conference, but in truth, he had nothing substantial to do until summer.
It was clear that simply passing the time by continuing his physician duties as before was not the right answer. Now that he had made up his mind, he needed to push forward with something.
'What ways are there to expand the Tang family's power and solidify its foundations?'
Nothing specific came to mind.
Dang Mujin had plenty of experience traveling the Central Plains and staying in major sects or clans.
However, he had no real knowledge of how such sects or families operated or how they grew their power. He had never stuck closely to the side of a clan head or sect leader.
Dang Mujin fell into thought. Who could help in a situation like this?
'Father probably doesn't know either, and neither Seol Yeong nor Wan-ah would be able to offer advice. Elder Samanbul, Elder Jang, Hong Geolgae, Hyeon-gong—they're all much the same...'
There was one person who might be somewhat helpful: Namgung Myeong.
As the eldest son of the Namgung family, Namgung Myeong must have seen and learned things from a young age.
Dang Mujin immediately sought out Namgung Myeong and asked what the Tang family needed to do to expand its power and make a name for itself.
Namgung Myeong gave a fairly plausible response.
"If the Tang family sticks to being a physician clan, it won't grow beyond its current size. In fact, maintaining the status quo would be impossible."
"I think the same. I have no intention of abandoning medicine, but I don't believe we should limit ourselves to it."
"Then you have two paths to choose from: the merchant's way or the warrior's way. In my view, heading toward a martial clan seems better. What do you think?"
Dang Mujin's thoughts aligned exactly.
He knew little about the ways of merchants, but his martial arts were honed to a level he could be proud of anywhere.
Even if only to make use of his experience training in martial arts and dancing on the edge of death, he had no desire to take the merchant path. Besides, being the head of a martial clan sounded far more impressive than leading a merchant caravan.
"I agree. So, what do we need?"
"The core of a martial clan comes down to three things: ample wealth, martial prowess, and reputation."
This matched the three elements—money, force, and connections—that Elder Samanbul had mentioned, so Dang Mujin trusted Namgung Myeong's words.
For a fleeting moment, he thought asking Elder Samanbul instead might be better. But since the conversation had started, he decided to hear Namgung Myeong out a bit more.
"More money is always better. But you have enough to avoid any immediate constraints. Reputation builds naturally over time, so no need to rush. That leaves martial prowess."
Namgung Myeong glanced at Dang Mujin and smirked.
"Want to have a spar after all this time?"
*
When Dang Mujin and Namgung Myeong faced each other in the rear courtyard, each holding a sword, the people staying at the Tang family gathered in small groups to surround them.
Even setting aside that the two were key figures in the Tang family, their skills were outstanding even among the household. Just watching their spar would offer valuable insights.
"How serious should we get?"
When Dang Mujin asked Namgung Myeong, the latter replied confidently.
"Naturally, we go all out."
"Oh? Feeling confident, are we?"
"Confident? I've never once lost to you."
The only difference from usual was using blunt practice swords instead of live blades.
These could still tear flesh and break bones. But they posed no mortal danger.
Dang Mujin and Namgung Myeong seemed to calmly assume their stances, then subtly shifted and swung at each other—a sneak attack of sorts.
In an ordinary spar, such a move would earn endless finger-pointing.
But since both knew the other was just as sneaky and unscrupulous, neither was fazed in the slightest.
"Just as deviously predictable as expected!"
"Ha!"
As Dang Mujin swung horizontally, Namgung Myeong gripped his sword steadily with both arms—precisely his intact right arm and prosthetic left—and defended solidly.
Dang Mujin unleashed a series of highly practical techniques to press Namgung Myeong.
Yet his sword never reached the man. If anything, Namgung Myeong's blade was slightly ahead.
But Dang Mujin felt better for it. He had never once thought he could overpower Namgung Myeong with pure swordsmanship.
'This level of gap is manageable.'
Dang Mujin flowed into seven smooth techniques toward Namgung Myeong, then slipped his left hand into his bosom and flicked his thumb.
The needle case lid opened softly, and a needle caught at his fingertip.
Immediately, a drop of poison liquid seeped from his hand, wetting the needle's tip.
Not lethal, but enough to incapacitate.
"Let's get serious!"
Dang Mujin shook his left hand toward the sky.
More than half the onlookers failed to notice what he had done. But Namgung Myeong knew it was the motion for launching poison needles.
Five poison needles swam through the air, targeting Namgung Myeong's openings.
Dang Mujin's hidden weapon skills had clearly improved.
Before, his needles flew in similar trajectories. Now, they moved like five independent insects—erratically and complexly.
Namgung Myeong was inwardly impressed.
'That guy's made real progress.'
In an instant, the momentum shifted to Dang Mujin.
Namgung Myeong spun backward and unleashed the Subduing Dragon 18 Palms with his right arm.
Three of the five airborne needles were caught in the qi surge and fell to the ground.
Intact needles could simply be relaunched. The problem was the bent ones—hard to control at will.
Dang Mujin remarked with interest.
"You came prepared for how you'd handle them, huh?"
"No need to prepare. This is basic, isn't it?"
"But you didn't realize that fewer moving needles means I can focus less on them?"
As Dang Mujin shouted spiritedly, Namgung Myeong grinned.
"You think you're the only one?"
With that, Namgung Myeong let his left arm hang limply.
He now had to swing the sword with just his right arm, a stance that would halve the power for most.
But Namgung Myeong was different. Gripping with one arm, his aura surged ferociously.
Namgung Myeong charged at Dang Mujin, swinging.
Dang Mujin raised his sword to block the strike but lacked confidence against the follow-up barrage. He hastily deployed the Shadowless Retreat, falling back as he shouted.
"What the hell was that?"
"I get even stronger using just my right arm."
It made perfect sense on reflection.
Fighting while maneuvering a left prosthetic that couldn't exert full power with Vacuum Grasp.
Versus focusing solely on the freely controllable right arm. The latter was bound to be superior.
Suddenly, Dang Mujin recalled Namgung Myeong's old words: moving the prosthetic was training.
Namgung Myeong might seem idle at times, but it was all part of his regimen.
'As expected of the Namgung family's eldest son, who devoted his life to the sword.'
Namgung Myeong charged again, swinging.
Blocking was precarious, and each clash sent vibrations rattling his bones.
Namgung Myeong's wild swings suddenly centered. A grounded stance, rooted like a post. Dang Mujin knew what sword art it heralded: the Emperor Sword Form.
'I can't block that head-on.'
Namgung Myeong's sword descended from above.
It seemed slow at a glance, devoid of profound variations.
Yet it was the emperor's sword—neither evadable nor blockable by mediocre skill. A sense of being crushed or pulled in by the sword's momentum.
Dang Mujin felt a chill crawl up his spine for the first time in ages.
A bladeless practice sword, but a solid hit could still kill.
Dang Mujin drew fully on his dantian's inner power, angling his blade to deflect. Even so, his elbow felt crushed, and his gut thudded heavily.
Namgung Myeong raised his sword again, intrigued.
'The next strike won't be deflectable.'
But Dang Mujin had no intention of accepting defeat. Struggling, he maneuvered his left arm to control the two unbent poison needles.
Like venomous snakes leaping from brush, the needles skimmed the ground at an angle and struck Namgung Myeong—one in the back of the thigh, one in the back.
'Got him!'
Yet Namgung Myeong showed no reaction. Dang Mujin cried out in alarm.
"What? How did you—?"
"Ah. This is called cotton armor."
Namgung Myeong triumphantly opened his robe. Beneath the light garment was thick quilted padding.
Dang Mujin bellowed.
"That's cheating! Who swings a sword comfortably in bulky cotton armor?"
"I'm from warm Anhui Province, so I feel the cold a lot. Plus, it's winter—can't a guy wear warm clothes...?"
"If it were summer, I'd have won!"
"It's winter now, though. Right?"
The spirited spar ended on an anticlimactic note.
The Tang family onlookers dispersed, each lost in contemplation as if reviewing the bout.
Namgung Myeong sheathed his sword, chuckling smugly. He clearly thought himself the victor.
As Dang Mujin opened his mouth for a retort, Namgung Myeong spoke first.
"Good. Now I get it."
"Get what?"
"First off, your skills are impressive. Without me or Hyeon-gong around, you'd be at the forefront of the younger generation. Your misfortune is being born in the same era as me."
"You sparred just to say that?"
"No. It's that your skills are solid, but I'm convinced you can't found a martial clan as you are now."
Dang Mujin pondered silently. But he couldn't grasp the meaning.
Namgung Myeong clicked his tongue and elaborated.
"Your skills are outstanding, but your martial arts themselves aren't exceptional. You've bridged that gap with Vacuum Grasp and poison arts. But those aren't methods ordinary people can replicate."
"Poison arts could be learned somehow if..."
"Poison arts, maybe. But swinging a sword with your right while deploying Vacuum Grasp with your left? That's absurd. It's like—or even more complex than—me wielding dual swords."
"Uh..."
Dang Mujin tried to take it as praise but adopted a serious expression. It wasn't that simple.
"If you stuck to just hidden weapons, fine. But your current fighting style can't be passed down. A prodigy might learn it, sure. But most would quit on day one. Fine for a one-man lineage, but not for growing a clan."
Every clan has leading experts. Namgung Jincheon was one; the Namgung family's masters like Namgung Jinya were others.
But they were the elite few. Below them were hordes stalled at first- or second-rate realms. Those born under the Namgung banner yet lacking talent.
Yet the Namgung warriors didn't disdain them. They were essential pillars upholding the clan.
"It's powerful, no doubt. But martial arts with such high barriers can't build a power base. Like how the Namgung family needs the sturdy root of the Great Cyclic Sword Art to bloom the flower of the Emperor Swordsmanship."
"You mean we need simpler martial arts."
As Dang Mujin muttered, Namgung Myeong shook his head.
"No. That's not a great solution either."
"Why?"
"How good do you think your sword talent is?"
"Humbly speaking, pretty darn good."
"Can you claim grandmaster-of-a-generation level?"
Dang Mujin couldn't confidently affirm. He had seen talents far beyond his reach.
Yeongbo Jinin was one; Jang Il-nam another. Only such genius warranted that title.
"The issue is you don't need grandmaster talent. To solve everything with martial arts alone, you'd need to surpass that—founder-of-a-great-sect level. Only then could your swordsmanship stand shoulder-to-shoulder with other giants."
A grandmaster deeply comprehends martial arts; a sect founder pioneers new realms.
Both unattainable for most, yet worlds apart.
"So swordsmanship isn't the answer."
"Not in my view."
Dang Mujin pondered. If not swords, the path was set: poison arts.
"Guess I need stronger poisons. Head to the Southern Barbarians?"
"Dan Seol-yeong would get mad, but it's a decent idea. Still, I see something more crucial."
"What?"
"Your poison arts and sword are separate beasts. No matter how I look, there's a far better way. Why choose this weird path of swordplay plus poison needles?"
Dang Mujin pondered the 'far better way' but drew a blank.
Finally, he asked directly. Embarrassment is fleeting; achievement eternal.
"...A better way? What's that?"
"Play to your inner power's nature."
"My inner power?"
As Dang Mujin still seemed clueless, Namgung Myeong's expression turned odd.
"You don't know?"
"Know what?"
"Ever since you returned from the Demonic Cult, clashing swords with you infuses poison qi. That's the most annoying part."
"...Huh?"
As Dang Mujin blinked dumbly, Namgung Myeong sighed in disbelief.
"See."
Namgung Myeong nicked the tip of his sword-holding right hand.
A couple of dark red drops fell, followed by an especially black one beading up.
It carried the distinctive eerie scent of poison qi.
"You didn't notice poison seeping in with every clash?"
"I'm not the one taking it. Didn't really notice."
When experts clash inner-power-infused swords, their energies flow through the blades.
A vast disparity in inner power volume leaves the weaker feeling their insides churn just from contact.
If ordinary inner power did that, the effects of Dang Mujin's poison-infused power were obvious. He simply hadn't noticed from the aggressor's side.
Namgung Myeong tsked and continued.
"Swordsmanship is fine. But add that property to something direct like fist techniques that projects poison qi—it becomes far stronger. A single graze could be fatal. Martial arts reaching the pinnacle of practicality. Optimized for killing, not enlightenment or ascension like others."
The phrasing was crude, but spot on.
For a latecomer like Dang Mujin—lacking sect-founder talent—it was the sole path for his martial arts to rival the giants.
"Anyway, lowering the poison arts' entry barrier is key? Guess I need to diligently research and create something new."
Teaching martial arts to Mok Wan-ah and researching together would be a good start. Unlike ordinary folk, she was already brimming with poison qi.
Namgung Myeong looked satisfied.
"Good. I'll help. Was worried the trip to Wudang Mountain would be boring, but perfect timing."
Dang Mujin nodded—then caught something odd.
"...You're going to Wudang Mountain too?"
"Of course."
He assumed Hyeon-gong would tag along since it was the destination. Even bored Hong Geolgae might.
But Namgung Myeong? He might run into his father at the conference. No reason for him to go.
"Aren't you awkward about meeting your father? Gonna patch things up after all this time?"
Fair enough; it was about time.
But as always, Namgung Myeong's reply veered slightly off expectation.
"Nah. No meeting him, obviously. Not even entering the conference hall. I'll be at the foot of Wudang Mountain."
"...Then why go?"
"Gotta know who's shown up at Wudang, right?"
As Dang Mujin looked baffled, Namgung Myeong explained.
"When sect leaders and clan heads gather at Wudang, their core experts tag along as escorts. Which means..."
Namgung Myeong's left lip curled up.
"...their main bases are left empty."
Namgung Myeong grinned wickedly.