Chapter 313
Chapter 313
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 313
Chapter Title: Sword King
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Everyone held their breath, waiting for Namgung Jincheon's response. Even Seolhwa sensed the unusual tension and didn't demand an explanation.
"I did a lot of thinking when I cast out my immature son. I told him to return as a man, but deep down, I had no real confidence. People grow through experience, but living in the world teaches you that not everyone does."
Namgung Jincheon answered while seated.
"Fortunately, you've grown. Not just in character, but your swordsmanship seems quite competent now too. Few at your age have achieved as much."
His tone was no different from usual—calm yet weighty.
But when Namgung Jincheon leaned forward, resting his weight on the armrest, the atmosphere shifted abruptly.
"However, it's too soon."
Fierce and rough. A pressure that bore down on everyone around.
Namgung Myeong rose from his seat and drew the sword at his waist.
'Is that the Xuanwon Sword?'
The Xuanwon Sword's blade gleamed far brighter than an ordinary sword. He couldn't tell for sure from a distance, but it was likely forged with star iron.
In truth, whenever a sword's material seemed odd, assuming star iron was mixed in usually proved right. Star iron's properties varied slightly from piece to piece.
Though diverse in nature, star iron shared one trait: it was far harder to work than common steel.
Judging by the difficulty, the smith who made the Xuanwon Sword must have been quite skilled by Dang Mujin's standards. It lacked any particularly unique or elegant form, but the craftsmanship was flawless.
As Namgung Jincheon stood before Namgung Myeong, dangling the Xuanwon Sword, the Namgung household servants quietly backed away, creating distance. Their duel would require ample space.
Namgung Myeong kept rubbing his palms against his pant legs.
Hyun Gong remarked,
"That Namgung Myeong guy's nervous."
"Seems like it."
It didn't appear to be tension from facing one of the Orthodox Faction's top experts. Namgung Myeong had never shown fear against other Absolute Peak masters.
Even if Namgung Jincheon were inferior, Namgung Myeong would likely tense up the same way before him. That's the kind of father Namgung Jincheon was to him.
There was no reason for Namgung Myeong to yield the first move. He raised his sword and said,
"Then, I'll take the initiative..."
But before he could finish, Namgung Jincheon's sword swept in horizontally.
If he stayed still, his right shoulder would be deeply slashed, so Namgung Myeong hastily raised his sword to block.
"···!"
It wasn't a perfect defense.
The internal energy in Namgung Jincheon's strike was too overwhelming for a direct block, and too sudden to deflect fluidly.
Thus, Namgung Myeong's guard relied purely on his sword's strength. With an ordinary blade, it would have snapped without surprise.
Yet the sword Dang Mujin forged held firm against Namgung Jincheon's.
Watching, Hyun Gong stepped closer to Dang Mujin and praised,
"Indeed, a sword of the world. I wonder if one to rival it—like the Blue Fang or Dark Night—will ever appear."
"If I make such a sword, I'll use it myself."
"Three swords forming a set would be impressive in its own right."
"···."
Dang Mujin said no more. He knew better than to respond to every bit of Hyun Gong's nonsense, and besides, Namgung Myeong and Namgung Jincheon had begun moving again.
Namgung Myeong's complexion was poor. Having blocked an attack mid-sentence, his blood and qi churned wildly within.
Grinding—
He tilted his sword and swung his arm wide, trying to shake off Namgung Jincheon's blade.
But Namgung Jincheon's sword clung to his like glue, refusing to yield. At this rate, he'd be on the defensive next move too, so Namgung Myeong boldly grabbed it with his prosthetic left hand and shoved.
Even then, it didn't release easily. Instead, Namgung Jincheon's sword twisted toward the prosthetic, slicing into the palm and halting just below the wrist.
Namgung Myeong looked startled, but Dang Mujin's face darkened too. Repairing that prosthetic would fall to him, after all.
After one clash leaving minor internal injuries and now his left arm crippled, Namgung Jincheon finally stepped back half a pace.
"If you had your left arm, the fight would be decided now."
It was hard to deny. Namgung Myeong grumbled,
"Wasn't that too sudden? Attacking before I could finish speaking."
Namgung Jincheon furrowed his brow.
"You want courtesy with swords drawn? You've learned poorly. It's a miracle you've survived this long."
"It's not real combat—it's a spar."
"The only difference between a spar and real combat is that fewer die in spars."
In other words, let your guard down, and you could die even in a spar.
As if to prove his words no bluff, Namgung Jincheon swung at Namgung Myeong's side.
A lethal move for a spar. Fail to block, and it could pierce deep, ending a life.
But Namgung Myeong had anticipated it, parrying relatively stably.
Thanks to that, he could counterattack.
Namgung Myeong channeled his full internal energy to repel Namgung Jincheon's sword, creating a small opening, then executed subtle footwork.
It resembled the Namgung clan's signature Infinite Steps at a glance, but Dang Mujin sensed something off in its aura.
Built on Infinite Steps' bold, majestic foundation, it infused the sinister stealth of unorthodox assassins or the bizarre subtlety unique to the Yangsan Gentlemen.
Namgung Jincheon let out a hollow chuckle.
"You've learned some strange things."
"I've wandered foreign lands for seven years—it's natural my martial arts evolve, isn't it?"
"Not wrong. But whether it's the right direction, I'm not sure."
Before Namgung Jincheon finished, Namgung Myeong swung at his head, clearly irked by the earlier surprise.
Namgung Jincheon tilted his head slightly to evade. Or rather, it was subtle—not fully dodging, as the blade grazed his skin. A long cut marred his forehead.
With minimal movement, Namgung Jincheon extended the Xuanwon Sword to catch Namgung Myeong's passing blade.
Not just catching—he twisted his wrist subtly, forcing Namgung Myeong's sword tip down to slam into the ground.
Then he stepped on the flat of Namgung Myeong's blade, drew his own sword free, and thrust at his chest. Another lethal strike.
Lose the sword, lose. Fail to dodge, lose.
Namgung Myeong dropped low, yanked his sword from under Namgung Jincheon's foot, then flung his body backward while crouched.
Dang Mujin recognized the footwork—from the assassins he swept away in Yangyang, used by one from Salmak.
Namgung Jincheon looked displeased.
"Footwork for black path scum."
"I took it from assassins I killed—as spoils."
"Grabbing spoils from anywhere? Can such a frivolous sword claim the title of Sword King?"
"That doesn't sound like words from someone who's not the Sword King."
Namgung Jincheon laughed—a hearty one, though eerie with blood trickling from his forehead.
"Is that so? Then behold the Sword King's blade. The sword your grandfather favored."
Namgung Myeong didn't wait, slashing at Namgung Jincheon's knee. Namgung Jincheon met it with his own.
Their swords balanced briefly at knee height—then shattered. Namgung Myeong's veered sideways, but Namgung Jincheon's rose naturally upward.
From his stable stance dominating above, Namgung Jincheon declared,
"The vast sky knows no boundaries, leaving no escape."
Namgung Jincheon unleashed the Vast Sky Without Bounds Swordsmanship.
His sword swung slowly downward.
It matched the forms Namgung Myeong had occasionally shown, but the depth of intent differed vastly. Namgung Jincheon's wasn't so much swung from above as poured down relentlessly.
A strike infused with the Namgung clan's domineering aura. Beyond Dang Mujin's ability to find an opening.
Dang Mujin immediately checked Namgung Jincheon's face.
Even with blood covering it, even poised to take his son's life, he smiled contentedly. He was genuinely enjoying the fight.
Only then did Dang Mujin realize: contrary to Namgung Myeong's thoughts, Namgung Jincheon earned the moniker Sword Ghost not for lacking Sword King qualifications.
Sword Ghost simply suited him better.
No clear path out. Namgung Myeong improvised desperately, barely deflecting the unfathomable strike.
Not cleanly—earning a long gash from left shoulder to waist.
Dang Mujin reflexively started to rise, but Hong Geolgae pressed his shoulder down.
"Wait."
"That's no light wound."
"He's not dying yet."
So wait until it's fatal?
A nuanced remark, but Dang Mujin sighed and sat back.
He recalled Namgung Myeong's arrogant rambling earlier. Losing after that in front of everyone might kill him from shame.
Hyun Gong's hands trembled faintly. He felt the crisis more acutely than Dang Mujin.
If Namgung Myeong died here without claiming the clan head seat, what a disaster. All their built rapport down the drain.
But no way to intervene.
Namgung Jincheon assessed Namgung Myeong's sword.
"You've learned many tricks, but none deeply. Disappointing."
"Just beacons to guide my path."
"Your path."
"I'll show you the one I've found."
Namgung Myeong chose the Emperor Sword Form.
Prolonging the fight meant defeat—he needed a decisive gamble now.
With the Sword King's seat at stake, he wouldn't settle for lesser techniques. One who walks the king's path wields the king's sword.
Namgung Myeong stepped back two paces, raising his sword infused with all his internal energy.
Where Namgung Jincheon's Vast Sky Without Bounds emphasized offense even in defense, Namgung Myeong's Emperor Sword Form ignored defense entirely. Upper and lower body fully exposed.
Yet unbreakable. Any exploiting the gap would end in mutual destruction.
All or nothing. Channeling everything into one form.
The clan head seat—perhaps his life too.
Namgung Jincheon mirrored the stance, clearly intending to counter Emperor Sword Form with itself.
Unlike Namgung Myeong's grim resolve, his face brimmed with interest and delight.
Their swords moved. The Emperor Sword Form—a pinnacle of mid-strike and overpowering swordsmanship. Yet theirs transcended such labels, clashing swiftly.
Grinding—
A deafening clash halted the blades, both faces twisting in grimace.
Rare to pour such vast energy heedless of aftermath; rarer still for them to meet. Guts churning, meridians roiling—like downing liquor, taking a beating, then shaken by the hair.
As Namgung Myeong nearly vomited blood, Namgung Jincheon's Xuanwon blade twisted slightly. Lost composure? Weakened? Distracted? Unclear. Namgung Jinya's face soured watching.
Reason unknown, but the balance broke. Like a crack bursting a dam, Namgung Myeong's sword tilted sharply toward him.
Namgung Jincheon's stance held, but Namgung Myeong's blade sheared into the Xuanwon Sword and pressed forward.
Namgung Myeong thought to stop, but couldn't halt his full-powered strike.
Finally, the Xuanwon Sword snapped diagonally. Someone cried out in shock,
"The Xuanwon Sword!"
Next instant, Namgung Myeong's blade grazed Namgung Jincheon's chest, carving a deep wound. Blood sprayed, staining Namgung Myeong's face red. A severe injury.
Bewildered, Namgung Myeong stared ahead.
He hadn't expected a clean end—both bore wounds—but not this grave.
Yet Namgung Jincheon's lips held no pain or rage. Only a satisfied smile.
"You're capable."
"Father, your wound!"
Namgung Jincheon grinned, plunging his index finger deep into it. Human, so pain inevitable, yet he seemed utterly accustomed. Gauging the depth, he said,
"A flashy wound, but not deep. I'm not so easy that you'd kill me."
But eyeing his sword, he looked regretful.
"Can't wield it anymore, so we end here."
Remarkably calm for losing a treasured blade. He casually tossed the halved Xuanwon Sword aside, approached Namgung Myeong, and smiled warmly.
"An excellent achievement. Better than mine at your age."
"···."
Namgung Myeong felt dazed. He couldn't recall the last praise from his father.
Perhaps the day he stole Dang Mujin's sword and returned—not the first or last. Exposed later, he'd earned a slap.
But this time, no hidden truth. His heart eased inexplicably.
Namgung Jincheon said,
"You've found the right direction—refine it and press on."
"Understood."
Namgung Jincheon smiled faintly—a small one just for him.
"Sword King. A fine moniker."
Namgung Myeong nodded unconsciously, and Namgung Jincheon bellowed,
"The sword meet ends here. Disperse."
He turned toward the clan head's quarters. His steps remained utterly steady.
Had no blood dripped in his wake, no one would suspect injury.
After three or four paces, he glanced back. Namgung Myeong still stood stunned.
"What are you doing?"
"Pardon?"
"Lead the way."
As bid, Namgung Myeong walked slightly ahead.
Only as their backs vanished into the clan head's quarters did people realize a new clan head had emerged in the Namgung family.