Chapter 301
Chapter 301
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 301
Chapter Title: Nangong Clan
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The moment Nangong Myeong declared he would take the Nangong Clan from his father, most of the group was stunned. Even Yang Physician and Yeom Physician, who had only recently joined them, looked visibly flustered.
The only one keeping her composure was Seolhwa. She simply hadn't fully grasped what Nangong Myeong was saying.
Seolhwa lightly tugged at Hyun-gong's sleeve, asking, "What's going on? What's going on?"
Dang Mujin spoke to Nangong Myeong with a slightly crooked attitude.
"Even if your skills have improved a bit, you're already showing your true colors?"
Hong Geolgae, standing beside him, shook his head.
"He's turned into a real scoundrel. I didn't think he'd be worse than Hyun-gong..."
Hyun-gong wore an expression somewhere between admiration and shock.
"Every time I thought about becoming the leader of the Wudang Sect, I'd worry if my ambitions were too great. But compared to you, they're nothing. At least I've never thought about drawing swords against the sect leader to take his place."
Hyun-gong approached Nangong Myeong and patted his shoulder.
"If you'd say that to someone like your father figure, then to your real father... Yeah. I'll admit it cleanly. You win."
Nangong Myeong belatedly realized the situation.
He had never told his friends about his suspicions regarding his father, Nangong Jincheon, or his guesses about the Nangong Clan's attitude. Truth be told, it wasn't the kind of story one could easily share. It was a family disgrace, after all.
"No, wait. That's not it."
As Nangong Myeong took a step forward, the group stepped back half a pace.
The one person who didn't retreat, Hyun-gong, offered Nangong Myeong some advice.
"Looks like you want to make excuses, but from my experience, the more you explain in a situation like this, the uglier it gets."
"..."
It was undeniable truth.
And so, Nangong Myeong made a small decision. Instead of desperately defending himself by stepping back, sometimes you had to push forward boldly.
"What's wrong with me just taking what's mine a little sooner?"
The shock on the group's faces deepened a shade.
*
Just as martial artists swing their swords wide to create a small opening, Nangong Myeong used a bold statement to make space and slowly explained the situation.
Thanks to that, the group was finally able to understand his intentions, albeit belatedly.
"...So that's how it is."
"In short, you're going to set the Nangong Clan straight before it goes astray?"
"Yeah."
"But it's all just your guess. They might have sent only a few people because the clan actually lacks the manpower."
Nangong Myeong didn't agree with Dang Mujin.
"It's a guess, but a pretty solid one. And I'm not planning to act without confirming the facts. I'll look into it properly and talk it out."
"Whether the guess is true or not matters, but the bigger issue is your method. Even if you're convinced it's wrong, that's something you should address by advising your father. Who in their right mind draws swords on their own father?"
"My father doesn't go back on a decision once he's made it. A few words won't change his mind."
Dang Mujin recalled Nangong Jincheon from when they first met. The man who had boldly slapped Nangong Myeong in front of Dang Mujin and the Strange Physician, sending him tumbling to the ground.
As Nangong Myeong said, Nangong Jincheon wasn't the type to nod and change his stance after a few words.
Nangong Myeong continued.
"The atmosphere in the Nangong Clan is different from other clans or sects. Orders from superiors carry much more weight. But in return, when they acknowledge someone, they submit completely. If I defeat my father, he won't argue with my words."
Hong Geolgae interjected to check Nangong Myeong.
"But since you can't beat your father with skill alone, you're planning to rely on some external aid to take him down?"
"Of course. External aids are part of your strength too. They're just not enlightenment."
The discussion wrapped up there, and the group fell into their own thoughts.
Yang Physician and Yeom Physician were extremely uneasy.
They weren't sure if they should even be hearing this. Learning the secrets of martial artists and prestigious families? It felt like a massacre was inevitable.
Dang Mujin noticed the two physicians' anxiety and reassured them.
"Don't worry. Nangong Myeong is a bit odd, but he's not the type to carelessly take the life of an innocent person."
As the two physicians relaxed a little, Hong Geolgae added a comment.
"So far, at least."
Their expressions darkened again, and Dang Mujin shot Hong Geolgae a slight glare.
*
On the way from Kaifeng to Anhui Province, they had to pass through one of two major cities: Wuchang or Hefei.
The group naturally headed for Wuchang. Hefei might be big, but Wuchang was a much larger city, so they figured it would have everything needed to forge Nangong Myeong's sword.
In truth, they probably would have gone to Wuchang even if Hefei were bigger. Dang Mujin had fond memories tied to the place.
It was around this time two years ago that he'd made the Storm Flower Needle and caused a ruckus at the martial tournament there. And wasn't it in Wuchang where he'd met Blood Rain Guest Jang Il-nam?
As he strolled through Wuchang, lost in memories, a strange sight caught his eye.
Men and women armed with weapons swarmed like clouds, all of them quite young. Some looked less young and more like kids.
There was only one reason young martial artists would flock to Wuchang around autumn.
"...No matter how I look at it, it seems like a martial tournament is happening."
"Looks like it. But why is there a tournament? Isn't it every three years?"
The martial tournament rotated annually among Chang'an, Luoyang, and Wuchang.
Wuchang's last one was two years ago, so it wasn't their turn this year.
Dang Mujin's group looked around and spotted the registration desk.
It was obvious at a glance. A man who looked like he'd barely held a brush sat at a large table, with a big sign behind him reading [No Hidden Weapons Allowed].
'No hidden weapons? The tournament rules must have changed.'
Below the sign were minor details: prize money and awards for winners, participation limited to martial artists thirty or under, and so on.
Of course, Dang Mujin wasn't particularly interested.
The group approached the man at the table. They weren't there to enter—just to clear up their curiosity—so they didn't wait in line.
Dang Mujin asked on behalf of the group.
"Excuse me, could I ask something? Why is the tournament being held in Wuchang this year instead of Luoyang or Chang'an?"
The man fiddling with his brush answered.
"It's Luoyang's turn this year, but the mood up north has been tense lately, so they couldn't host it. Thanks to that, Wuchang's turn came early."
It must have been fallout from the Orthodox-Righteous Great War.
Things were finally settling down from the war, so Luoyang might host one soon, but it seemed Wuchang's tournament was already set.
As they turned to leave with their question answered, Dang Mujin encountered something odd.
Everyone gathered to register for the tournament was glaring at him with serious expressions.
Dang Mujin turned his head with a deliberately sullen look.
They weren't cutting in line to register. Was a single question to the organizer worth such stares?
But the murmurs grew louder, and the atmosphere grew heavier.
Soon, one man from the line approached Dang Mujin.
He had a naturally massive, sturdy build. A bit bigger, and he'd be as huge as Samanbul.
"Um..."
The moment the burly man spoke to Dang Mujin, the surroundings fell deathly silent.
"Hello. I'm Eon Baekgon of the Jinju Eon Family."
"Ah, yes. Nice to meet you, Hero Eon. Is there something you need?"
Eon Baekgon stammered.
"Uh... by any chance... are you... the Divine Dragon... no, the Dang Family Head?"
Dang Mujin racked his brain but had no memory of meeting this man. The name Eon Baekgon was new too.
But the answer was set.
"Yes. That's me."
"Ah..."
The man who called himself Eon Baekgon sighed.
His gaze then swept over Hong Geolgae, Hyun-gong, and Nangong Myeong in turn.
He seemed to know who the three beside Dang Mujin were. Eon Baekgon looked suffocated.
It wasn't just him. The numerous martial artists there for registration reacted similarly.
Eon Baekgon asked in a trembling voice.
"Could I ask... how old you all are?"
"I'm and Hong Geolgae are twenty-seven, Nangong Myeong is twenty-eight. Hyun-gong next to him is twenty-nine."
"Ah..."
Eon Baekgon squeezed his eyes shut.
Then, quite a few martial artists tossed something to the ground and turned away.
Dang Mujin picked up one of the items rolling on the floor. It was a wooden plaque with details like origin, family or sect, and name. They must submit these with personal info to enter.
Dang Mujin finally understood and hurriedly shouted.
"Everyone! There's a misunderstanding. We're not here to enter the tournament."
The footsteps of those turning away halted at once. Someone asked.
"Really?"
"Yes. We just happened to pass through Wuchang on our way to our destination. Please don't mind us."
People quickly returned to their spots and reformed the line. A few who had thrown their plaques scrambled to retrieve them from the ground.
The group slipped away swiftly, and only then did the crowd breathe a sigh of relief.
Once they were a good distance from the registration desk, Hong Geolgae cackled and teased Dang Mujin.
"You sure you don't want to enter the tournament? I was planning to."
It was clearly a joke, so Dang Mujin replied indifferently.
"Oh? Then go back and register. I won't stop you."
"Ugh. How could I go enter after you said that? Even for your sake, I couldn't."
Dang Mujin thought: If Hong Geolgae went back to enter now, who would look more pathetic—him or Hong Geolgae?
Probably Hong Geolgae, nine times out of ten.
Dang Mujin entered a reasonably cheap inn and booked rooms for the group.
Hong Geolgae, unbefitting a beggar, voiced a minor complaint about the inn.
"What's this? The inn looks a bit rundown compared to usual."
"If you don't like it, sleep on the street."
"It was a joke. This is more than enough."
Dang Mujin had chosen a cheaper-than-usual inn because his pockets were running dangerously empty.
When he left Sichuan Province, he had plenty of travel funds, but the long stay away had drained them almost completely. They were short even for boat fares.
Hong Geolgae spoke in an anxious voice.
"We've got enough for food, right?"
"That depends on your attitude."
After ordering simple meals for the group, Dang Mujin headed out into Wuchang's streets.
'Where was the forge around here?'
Dang Mujin quickly found it. Seven or eight master smiths and three or four apprentices—nearly ten people working there.
As Dang Mujin naturally entered the forge, a young man who looked like an apprentice blocked him.
"All our goods are outside. Even for custom orders, talk to them over there."
"Please step aside for a moment. I have business inside the forge."
"I said no."
If apprentices couldn't block pushy customers, they'd get chewed out.
As the young man stubbornly stood in the way, one of the smiths inside spotted Dang Mujin. He immediately set down his tongs and rushed over.
"Oh, it's been too long! I've been hoping to see you again...!"
The apprentice was pushed aside in confusion, and Dang Mujin was smoothly led inside.
The smith, a bit excited, grinned broadly.
"So, what brings you here? Don't tell me...?"
Dang Mujin gave him exactly the news the smith had been desperately hoping for.
"I'm here to have a sword made."
The smith cheered silently. Then Dang Mujin added one more thing.
"This time, something proper. I plan to put real effort into it."
The smith's waist bent like a bow on its own. The middle-aged smith trembled, punching the air.
He shouted to the apprentice still at the entrance.
"Close the door!"
"Y-Yes."
As the apprentice cluelessly shut the door, Dang Mujin said awkwardly.
"Oh, right. I don't have any money right now. Could I borrow some iron?"
"Borrow? Of course we can provide that much!"
The smith showed him refined iron bars from inside the forge. They looked like high-quality stuff at a glance.
But Dang Mujin hesitated. Was it right to use such ordinary iron for a sword he called a masterpiece?
No. To put real effort in, he needed equally good materials for balance.
But premium materials were expensive, and Dang Mujin had no money.
'It's not even a sword for me anyway...'
As Dang Mujin considered compromising, an idea struck him.
The martial tournament.
The prize money briefly mentioned under the registration sign.
And the old man from last time in Wuchang who bought the whale whiskers and tendons.
Dang Mujin said to the smith.
"Wait just a moment, please."
Dang Mujin rushed back to the inn and asked Hong Geolgae.
"You said earlier you wanted to enter the tournament, right?"