The Moon in the Dirt

Namgung Seong rolled across the dirt and collapsed.

Blood spilled from his mouth, soaking the ground.

The atmosphere around the sparring arena was no different. A heavy, suffocating silence hung over the crowd.

A brief moment passed.

"What just...?"

"What in the world just happened?"

"Is that... is that the Socheonggeom who fell?"

"The Socheonggeom... actually lost? To Young Master Bang?"

Everyone's eyes darted back and forth between the fallen Namgung Seong and Bang Seong-yeon.

Bang Seong-yeon stood tall, while Namgung Seong lay bleeding on the ground. The reality was undeniable. The Socheonggeom had lost, and Bang Seong-yeon had won. That was the plain truth before their eyes.

And yet...

"But... how did this happen?"

No one could make sense of the victory.

"What happened at the very end?"

"The Socheonggeom clearly unleashed his sword qi... and attacked..."

Right before the final clash, the Socheonggeom had manifested sword qi. For someone of his age to achieve that was practically miraculous.

It was a feat worthy of his title. But...

"Why did the Socheonggeom suddenly collapse? Young Master Bang's sword was clearly slower."

Yet, for some reason, Namgung Seong was the one on the ground. Meanwhile, Bang Seong-yeon, though panting heavily from exhaustion, remained standing.

How was this possible?

While the crowd stood dumbfounded, unable to grasp the truth.

Only one person.

"...That was..."

Standing among the spectators, the exceptionally handsome youth, Cheon Ui-jin, understood what had happened.

The Blue Moon Sword Dance...

The technique Bang Seong-yeon had used was unmistakable.

It was the signature martial art of Cheongwol Gate. Specifically, it was the ultimate technique that could only be executed by awakening the Moon Eye. Furthermore...

...Something was different.

It was subtly different from the Blue Moon Sword Dance Cheon Ui-jin knew.

He was familiar with the swordplay of his father and sister. Their movements were beautiful, refined, and breathtakingly elegant. The sheer difficulty of their forms was enough to intimidate anyone.

But Bang Seong-yeon's execution was different.

How could he make it look so light, so simple?

His grip was unrefined, and his movements were far too slow to carry any real power.

There was no delicacy to it; it looked like a mere swing of the blade.

And yet, it was undeniably the moon.

A moon had risen from the tip of Bang Seong-yeon's sword.

Unlike the beautiful swordplay of his father and sister, this was a rough, unpolished, yet massive and vast blue moon.

It resembled the swordplay he had witnessed from him long ago, during his childhood.

"As expected... Young Master Bang..."

...carries his legacy. Cheon Ui-jin felt his conviction solidify once more.

When the duel first began, he had been momentarily confused.

Namgung Seong's strikes were incredibly sharp, and Bang Seong-yeon had seemed entirely occupied with defending himself.

But that had been a misconception.

"To think... the Socheonggeom, Namgung Seong, would lose."

"Then it must be true. Young Master Bang really is the successor of the Sword Saint..."

"Did he truly hide his strength all this time?"

"Unbelievable..."

Even those who had harbored doubts were forced to accept the reality before them.

The legendary hero, the former World's Greatest, Sword Saint Yoo Chun-gil—the young man standing on the stage was indeed his successor.

Behold, he had proven it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He had utterly crushed a genius touted as the future of the Murim, right in front of this massive crowd.

That single feat completely transformed how everyone looked at him.

"Y-Young Master Bang!"

"Whoaaa...!"

Breaking the stunned silence, a delayed roar of cheers erupted.

"I knew you could do it!"

"Incredible!"

They didn't believe in him at all. They were too busy watching with suspicious eyes.

And it wasn't even that incredible. He just blocked attacks all day and landed a single blow at the end.

How fickle people are. Cheon Ui-jin sighed quietly at the crowd's blunt, transparent reactions.

This was the Murim. A place that only remembered and worshipped the victors.

He realized this truth once again. It was a terrifying place, no matter how many times he witnessed it.

Just watching is exhausting enough. How can you remain so steadfast, Young Master?

While Cheon Ui-jin felt drained just observing, Bang Seong-yeon remained completely unfazed by the atmosphere.

He caught his breath in the middle of the deafening cheers, looking as though he couldn't hear a single sound around him.

Did the opinions of others mean nothing to him?

His focus was locked entirely on the fallen Namgung Seong.

"Ugh... cough..."

Namgung Seong twitched on the ground. It seemed he hadn't lost consciousness.

Cough! He spat out a mouthful of blood.

"...You... bastard..."

With bloodshot eyes, Namgung Seong glared up at Bang Seong-yeon. His once-sculpted face was a mess, and his neatly styled hair was now a disheveled ruin.

All from a single blow. That was what it had reduced him to.

His chin was drenched in his own blood.

"I am... I am..."

Namgung Seong gasped for air, his voice ragged.

"The... Socheonggeom... Namgung Seong of the Namgung Clan..."

He used his sword as a crutch to drag himself up. It was a pitiful, yet stubborn display of willpower.

However, the intent behind his struggle was far from noble.

"I... won't... accept this. I won't accept it..."

As if refusing to admit defeat, Namgung Seong pointed his sword at Bang Seong-yeon.

"I am... the Socheonggeom of the Namgung Clan... There is no way I would lose to such cheap tricks..."

Namgung Seong swayed mid-sentence, barely managing to steady himself.

He looked ready to collapse at any second.

"Ugh..."

The defeat was clear to everyone, yet Namgung Seong refused to accept it.

Was he really trying to keep fighting?

No matter how one looked at it, he was at his limit.

And...

As if recognizing this, Bang Seong-yeon slowly walked toward him.

He wasn't holding his sword. Was he going to help him up?

The crowd murmured in quiet admiration.

The successor of the Sword Saint has noble character as well. Just as the crowd's opinion of him was about to rise even higher...

Bang Seong-yeon closed the distance, and in that split second—

Crack!

"Huh?"

"What?"

"...Eek?!"

Bang Seong-yeon's knee slammed directly into Namgung Seong's groin.

Every man in the audience winced and instinctively crossed their legs.

It was a clean hit. There was even a distinct cracking sound.

"Urrgh..."

Namgung Seong's eyes rolled back in sheer agony as he collapsed.

He lay flat on the dirt, foaming at the mouth.

Spit!

Bang Seong-yeon spat on the ground and muttered.

"Shut the hell up. Who cares if you accept it or not?"

His voice was laced with pure irritation.

"Stop flapping your gums and stay down. It suits you perfectly."

Spitting out those words of utter contempt, Bang Seong-yeon turned around and walked off the stage.

His heavy, stomping footsteps radiated annoyance, and not a single soul dared to get in his way after witnessing what he had just done.

And thus, the duel came to an end.

The Socheonggeom had been defeated by the successor of the Sword Saint.

The news spread through the Martial Alliance like wildfire immediately after the duel.

Rumor after rumor piled up, inflating the story to ridiculous proportions.

The funny thing was that most of these people had watched the duel with their own eyes, yet they still managed to distort what they had witnessed.

Barely two shijin—four hours—had passed.

In that short span of time, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the rumors had already drifted far from the truth.

"Unbelievable..."

Rumors were always like this, utterly pointless. Even if dozens of people saw it firsthand, the truth would warp after passing through just one or two mouths.

[Still, it is not a bad thing. It does not hurt you either way.]

I smacked my lips at the old man's words.

"What do you mean it doesn't hurt? Even if you hold gold in both hands, it's meaningless if you don't have the strength to protect it."

And now, everyone knew my hands were full of gold.

To them, it probably looked like I had a massive army backing me up.

But in reality, I'm just holding a fruit knife.

A hollow shell—that was the perfect description of my current state.

"...Ugggh..."

A groan escaped my lips the moment I tried to move.

"Wow... crazy."

I muttered to myself in disbelief. The pain was so intense it forced a laugh out of me.

My muscles screamed. There wasn't a single spot from head to toe that didn't ache.

I hadn't known human muscles could hurt this much. The sensation was so novel it was almost refreshing.

Wincing at the sharp pain, I glared at the old man beside me.

"...Just what... did you do to my body... ugh..."

As I complained with deep resentment, a chuckle echoed from somewhere.

[I used that pathetic body of yours as sparingly as possible, so those words hurt my feelings.]

"...You call this... sparingly?"

[Of course. Did you think defeating a child of the Namgung Clan with your miserable physical vessel would be easy?]

"Ugh..."

I didn't argue. Honestly, I found it miraculous too.

Defeating the Socheonggeom with a body that barely qualified as Second-rate was still hard to believe.

Did my body possess some hidden talent? I didn't indulge in such nonsense.

I looked up at the goddamn ghost in front of me.

This fight had made me realize just how terrifyingly powerful this old man really was.

[What is this? I quite like the look in your eyes. Is that respect I see?]

"Respect... my ass. I'm looking at you because I'm dumbfounded."

[Hohoho. Sure, let's go with that.]

He was incredibly annoying.

"Whew..."

I stumbled around, trying to find a position that hurt the least.

As I groaned and struggled, the old man looked at me with a strange expression.

[So, why did you do it?]

"...Do what?"

[That last move.]

"..."

[Knowing you, you must have had a reason to go that far.]

At Yoo Chun-gil's question, I recalled the end of the duel.

Come to think of it, why did I do that? I didn't fully understand it myself.

I could have just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ignored him and walked away, but I couldn't hold back. It would have been better if I hadn't aimed for his groin, at least.

But I had aimed precisely for that spot.

Because of that, this would probably blow up into something much bigger than a simple duel.

I was a little worried about the fallout, but it couldn't be helped.

"...Old man. Honestly."

[Yes?]

"Given how shitty he was being, didn't he deserve at least that much?"

The old man didn't say anything to that.

He just stared at me with a slightly surprised expression.

"What's with that look?"

[Well, I thought you wouldn't care at all, but you're saying something rather unexpected. It is a bit disorienting.]

"Yeah, I don't care. I was just annoyed."

[In the secular world, that is exactly what people call 'caring.']

"Ah, whatever."

I waved my hand, wanting to drop the subject.

"It's not like you're going to help me, and it's not like you can anyway. I just vented my frustration."

There was no end to it if I tried to find meaning in it. It was easier to just write it off as a fit of irritation.

[Haha.]

Yoo Chun-gil chuckled at my shameless attitude.

[Do you have the confidence to handle the consequences?]

At his loaded question, I smiled this time.

"Consequences..."

Consequences? Just thinking about it was terrifying. The consequences here were obvious.

It would have been fine if it was just a duel, but crushing Namgung Seong's groin was the problem.

If things went wrong, the Namgung Clan might use this as an excuse to target me.

If that happened, my safety would be in serious jeopardy.

"Why should I be the one to handle it?"

I muttered bluntly, massaging my stiff shoulders.

Handle it? I didn't need to do any such thing.

And the old man surely knew that already.

"You already know the answer, so stop prying."

This was just a pointless conversation.

[Hoho...]

The old man laughed.

That laugh alone confirmed he had asked despite already knowing the answer.

[You truly are a sly brat.]

Look who's talking. I rolled my eyes.

Just as I grimaced and turned to look out the window.

[Now then.]

I turned my head back to look at him.

I swallowed hard.

What is this?

The atmosphere had shifted. Goosebumps broke out all over my skin.

My already aching body froze completely.

[I shall ask you something else.]

He was massive.

Yoo Chun-gil, posing his question, looked colossal.

He had always seemed imposing, but this was incomparable to before.

Mount Tai.

It felt as if a giant mountain had suddenly blocked my path.

...I can't breathe.

I clutched my chest. Breathing felt incredibly heavy. How could a mere spirit exert such overwhelming pressure?

"Why... are you suddenly doing this?"

I barely managed to squeeze the words out.

While I stared at him in panic, Yoo Chun-gil, wearing an expressionless face I had never seen before, asked:

[How did you summon the moon?]

"Excuse me...?"

Summon what? What was he talking about? Unable to comprehend, I just stared at him.

[The sword you swung at the very end. That was undoubtedly the Blue Moon Sword Dance. And it was the exact swordplay that I use.]

"Ah."

Only then did I realize what the old man was asking.

[That is impossible. What did you do?]

There was no mischievous cackle, no irritating smirk meant to tease me.

He was completely expressionless. His bare, cold face made my hands tremble involuntarily.

This... old man. His face is terrifying.

I had always known he was powerful, but stripping away his playful demeanor made it so much worse. The pressure radiating from him was immense.

But my pride wouldn't let me cower in fear.

"...I wondered what you were going to ask. I didn't really do anything."

I forced myself to speak with false bravado.

"I just copied you."

[What?]

This ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time, the old man looked confused.

[Copied me?]

"Yes."

[Explain in detail.]

"...There's not much detail to give."

How could I explain it any further? That ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was literally all there was to it.

As I had mentioned before, memorization was my specialty, and this time was no different.

"The way you swung the sword, the breath you took, the flow of energy moving through my body... I just replicated all of it."

I memorized the exact conditions that occurred within my body at that moment and pieced them together.

"And it just worked."

[...]

The old man fell silent.