The Martial God's Mistake That Slipped By Unnoticed
Sacheon Tang Clan. A place hailed as the foremost in the Central Plains for poisons and hidden weapons.
The Tang Clan head, Poison King Dang Mandok, tore up the letter he had been holding. The letter, sealed with the personal stamp of the Namgung Sega head and delivered via carrier pigeon yesterday, was shredded into pieces and scattered.
The one who had done it was grinning.
"Heh heh, how amusing."
Gathered before him were all the Tang Clan elders.
"What do you all think?"
At Dang Mandok's question, the elder in charge of Cheon Dokdang replied.
"We don't know the Namgung Sega's intentions, but this is an absolute golden opportunity."
The others chimed in with their agreement.
Dang Mandok had no choice but to nod as well.
Sawangjeon. In simple terms, a tournament to select the world's top late disciple.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say every sect staked their lives on it. The Namgung Sega was, of course, included among them.
"How many from the Namgung Sega participated in the last Sawangjeon?"
The one handling the clan's general affairs quickly answered.
"Fifty, including the direct descendant Namgung Jung."
"Right..."
That was indeed the case. Fifty wasn't an overwhelming number by any means. Most sects sent over a hundred disciples. Sure, only a tiny fraction would advance to the main tournament, but the more participants a sect had, the easier it was to check rival sects. All thanks to Sawangjeon's uniquely brutal preliminary rounds.
But this time, just two?
"Arrogance?"
The Namgung Sega already held two of the world's top late disciples. And that was just the start. In the last Sawangjeon, twenty out of the sixty-four who made it to the main draw were Namgung disciples.
It was a relief that they didn't overlap with the Tang Clan's hidden weapons, but to claim the title of supreme late disciple, they'd have to be defeated eventually.
But the real reason Dang Mandok had summoned all the clan's leadership wasn't that.
"Has Mushin ever directly intervened in Sawangjeon before?"
As far as he could recall, he'd never seen Mushin at Sawangjeon. And this was the first time a personal letter had been sent out via carrier pigeon like this.
One elder replied.
"Never."
He was the elder from Mandokdang who had led the Tang disciples at the last Sawangjeon, so he remembered clearly. The Namgung Sega's top representative had been the Grand Elder. Namgung Hancheol hadn't shown up for the prelims, mains, finals, or even Jinryongjeon.
"But is this really written by Mushin himself?"
They'd verified it dozens of times, but the doubt lingered.
"A Namgung warrior brought it personally. I saw it."
"I see..."
Head Dang Mandok closed his eyes, seemingly deep in thought. Moments later, a rare surge of killing intent emanated from him.
"Heh heh heh, this Sawangjeon is going to be a riot."
Sawangjeon prelims were never a cakewalk from the start. Even famed orthodox sects couldn't afford to slack off. That's why every sect sent as many disciples as possible.
Why? Because it gave them the edge.
Dang Mandok thought this might finally be the chance to topple the Namgung stronghold.
"I'll go to this Sawangjeon myself."
It had been ten years since the clan head had declared his personal attendance at Sawangjeon.
Similar scenes were unfolding across the martial world. Some places were already forging alliances among themselves, while others doubled down on training.
But one thing was certain. Thanks to Namgung Hancheol's carrier pigeons, Namgung So and Namgung Daeso had become public enemy number one at Sawangjeon.
And naturally, Namgung Daeso had no idea any of this was happening.
* * *
Only today was I finally able to get out of bed.
Ilhyang sis made time to check on me specially.
Knock knock!
She tapped my head as she asked. I knew there was no malice, but it still pissed me off a bit.
"You feeling okay now? No headaches or anything?"
"Yeah. I'm good."
Only after hearing that did Ilhyang sis relax.
"Phew... Thank goodness. Master was so shocked last time, my heart nearly stopped. The clan head's on another level! How does he smash someone's head like that without mercy?!"
Hey, Ilhyang sis, that was just a flick with his pinky.
"Now that you're up, young master, I'll head out. If anything feels off, come to the medical hall."
"Why? Stay a bit longer. Busy?"
She wasn't Little Apothecary anymore—just Apothecary now. Heh heh, my sis was killing it. At this rate, with the hwandan business...
Oh! Right.
550 gold nyang.
Damn, I'd forgotten about that debt. I grimaced, and Ilhyang sis tapped my head again. Knock knock! Still annoying.
"Still hurts, huh? Master said if he'd hit even a tad harder, your skull would've split in two! No good—you need more rest..."
I cut off her machine-gun chatter.
"I'm fine! Just got a headache from some other stuff."
Ilhyang sis stressed absolute rest one more time before leaving—of course, not forgetting the knock knock.
Wonder how many days I was out this time.
I stepped outside. The courtyard was unusually quiet. Where were all those Daegalbak uncles? Only one guy was around.
I greeted Daegalbak No. 44.
"Uncle, long time no see?"
"Oh! All better now?"
"Yeah. How long was I out?"
"Three, four days?"
Decent nap, I guess.
"By the way, what the hell happened with Mushin to make you cling like that?"
"I was clinging?"
Daegalbak No. 44 acted out the whole scene with his body. After hearing it all, I couldn't fathom what my old man was thinking.
And that last thing he said.
-With your current mindset, you'll never...
And then what? I blacked out right there.
"Talking to yourself? Did you really bang your head that hard?"
"That'd be preferable. Where's everyone else?"
"Ah~ Out making money. For some reason, Namgung Sega cut off Cheonryongjeon's funding the other day. Chaos everywhere."
Uh... That sounds like my fault?
Feeling guilty, I rolled up my sleeves to help, but Daegalbak No. 44 stood up.
Come to think of it, why was he alone?
"I'm on duty today."
"Sweeping the yard?"
"That's for the brooms, kid."
"Hauling Cheonggang Stone?"
Around the time of Sawangjeon, tons of Cheonggang Stone had arrived to build the sparring platforms. Dozens of arenas were probably being built by now.
"Starting tomorrow, yeah, but not today."
"Then what duty?"
"Sawangjeon's not far off."
"True."
About five months left.
"To help with your remaining training and check how much you've grown at Shaolin, we've set up rotations among ourselves. I'm in charge of you today."
Ah, taking turns watching me. Nice intent. Smart too.
I'd planned to sort through everything I'd learned since returning anyway. With the Daegalbak uncles teaching, it'd be huge help.
But why were these guys—who couldn't care less about Sawangjeon—suddenly so gung-ho?
I eyed him suspiciously, and he nodded to himself like, Ah, got it, then handed me a letter.
"You haven't seen this yet, right? Reading it might shift your mindset a bit. Very intriguing stuff inside."
Another letter?
"Dad wrote this?"
"Yep. You knew?"
"No."
Different from the one in my room. I read it.
'This...!'
The contents were shocking.
"This for real?"
"Yup. That's why Je-cheon's been scarce. The whole martial world's buzzing. Heh heh."
Probably because of what's written here.
Especially the sixth point.
[6. For reference, only two from Namgung Sega will participate this time. Namgung So and Namgung Daeso.]
Yeah, this!
Had Dad lost his mind? No way Third Bro agreed to this.
From what I knew, Sawangjeon prelims had about fifty people per arena fighting at once. Only the last one standing advanced.
Seemed irresponsible and half-assed, but with insane participant numbers, it was unavoidable.
So sects sent as many as possible. In group battles, even one ally on your platform boosted survival odds. Sure, only one advanced per arena, so one of you dropped, but better your sect than another.
No matter how skilled, a lone wolf got targeted.
But just two? And announcing it in letters to every sect?
No, seriously! This wasn't simple—it was a declaration of war.
No sect wanted Namgung to win. That's why prelims mattered.
Last time, notable sects barely got five into the mains. Namgung sent over twenty.
Thirty out of fifty dropped? Sure, but others sent hundreds for five spots.
Namgung's prelim pass rate: 60%. Twenty of sixty-four mains slots. Others fought for the rest.
'They all see this as their big shot.'
Eighteen extra slots compared to last time.
And two sparked another thought: the enemy's enemy is my friend. Ancient wisdom.
I was certain now.
'Bro and I get isolated in prelims.'
Once they started, others would ally up and target us first.
"What about Bro? What'd he say?"
"Ah! Third Young Master?"
"Yeah."
Thinking that far made me uneasy. No normal person would agree to this nonsense... but Namgung had no normals. Except me!
"Heard secondhand, but apparently he said this."
Gulp.
And no way the other Namgung disciples agreed. They were late disciples too! Dreaming of glory, hyped for Sawangjeon!
"Amusing."
"...That's it? What about the others?"
"Who?"
"The other Namgung disciples training for Sawangjeon."
"Oh, them? Seemed less interested than expected? Said swinging the sword once more beat complaining. Something about muscle loss."
Did I underestimate Namgung?
Being a Namgung warrior meant you were already top-tier—no need for Sawangjeon validation. Ahem!
"Let's get started."
No time to lounge if it was set. No clue what Dad meant by this. No idea how much stronger Third Bro got post-seclusion.
My life's been screwed from the start, full of impossibles anyway.
But this letter revealed one thing.
'The old man's scheming something via Sawangjeon.'
What? No idea. Didn't need to.
"We'll ramp up training intensity way higher. Cool?"
"Yes! Music to my ears."
My goal: win.
Wall? Smash it. River? Cross it. Mountain? Climb it.
And so, time flew, and five months passed in a flash.