False Sparring (1)
A line of people stood centered around the sparring stage.
To the right was the outer court's group. The first to catch my eye were two men in black robes—the head and deputy head of Biwol-dang, responsible for all intelligence coming in and out of the Namgung Clan. Lined up beside them were the heads and deputies of the outer court's martial units: Jeokhyeol-dan, Jigu-dan, Jerim-dan, and Jaseong-dan.
I turned my gaze to the opposite side. There was the inner court's group: the heads and deputies of Daeyeon Geomdan, Cheongpung Geomdan, and Cheonggung Geomdan. And at the center of both outer and inner courts stood the Namgung direct bloodline: my father and the elders, along with my eldest, second, and third brothers.
What was surprising was that Namgung Ilro, the military strategist who almost never showed his face, had come out for this occasion. Neither in the past nor now did I have any personal connection with him. Yet he kept staring right at me. I quickly averted my eyes and looked elsewhere.
Scattered here and there were people who weren't Namgung. Most were renowned figures shaking up the jianghu. Oh! There's even Sinui over there. Best to pretend I don't see him.
Taking a rough scan, it seemed almost every major figure in the martial world had gathered here. With this much firepower, unifying the Central Plains didn't seem like a pipe dream.
That aside.
I'd long known the year-end evaluation was one of the Namgung Clan's major events—a gathering to select the talent that would lead the Namgung in the future. It demanded careful, precise, and clear judgment. That's why the core forces currently leading the Namgung handled the evaluations themselves.
In the past, the core forces had participated in the year-end evaluations too. But not on this scale.
Usually, it was just the unit heads and deputies showing up.
The trainees were practically conscripted into the martial units afterward, so the people in charge evaluated them with their own eyes. It was the most accurate way to select talent.
But today, a ton of other figures had shown up too. The reason was obvious. Everyone here was watching one person's mood.
I subtly directed my gaze to avoid standing out, fixing it on that one man: MushinNamgung Hancheol.
Both at the welcoming ceremony and now... that guy...
Is he going through andropause or something?
That was the only explanation that fit.
That's when it happened.
"Over here~! Over here!"
A frivolous voice rang out in the heavily subdued space. All eyes turned toward the source.
Some who saw it scowled. Others turned back as if they'd spotted a buzzing fly, pretending nothing happened—but their eyes brimmed with clear displeasure.
The trainees, unable to even imagine such behavior, looked dazed, their tension easing slightly.
"Over here! Over here!"
And the lunatic behind it all kept waving at me.
This guy's driving me nuts.
If I could send a transmission, I'd curse him out double-fold. Helpless, I gave a tiny wave back. If I didn't, that maniac would keep up the circus for sure.
Only then did he look satisfied and settle down.
Namgung Je-cheon, the deputy military strategist. The Namgung Clan's official nutjob.
At that moment, several gazes stabbed down at me. All from the forces of my eldest, second, and third brothers. The brothers themselves didn't seem to care, but...
What just happened could spark massive misunderstandings.
'The deputy strategist who controls all Namgung forces supports the youngest young master. Therefore, all Namgung forces support the youngest young master.'
...That kind of ridiculous nonsense!
I'd never once considered that lunatic one of my own. And I had no plans to in the future either!
Yeah. The results soon would speak for themselves.
"Ahem!"
As the atmosphere grew a bit chaotic, the grand elder stepped forward with a cough. Normally, the highest-ranking person here oversaw the year-end evaluation. In the past, it was usually the head of Cheonggung Geomdan, but today, the grand elder took the lead.
"Silence, everyone. We will now begin the year-end evaluation. All trainees, come up to the sparring stage."
At the grand elder's words, the trainees climbed onto the stage. I slipped in among them and went up too.
"This year's trainees number fifty in total."
The training hall usually kept around fifty trainees.
"Thirty newbies and twenty repeaters."
Of last year's fifty, ten had passed the evaluation and become Namgung members, while forty failed. Of those, twenty left the hall, and twenty stayed. Then thirty new ones joined.
"The year-end evaluation will be based solely on skill—no recommendations allowed. If none of the fifty are deemed fit to join the Namgung, there will be zero passers. Conversely, if all are suitable, all will pass."
The trainees' tension doubled at the grand elder's words. The repeaters, who'd been through it before, looked especially grim. They knew from experience that "all pass" was just a pie in the sky.
"The evaluation has two formats. The first is designated sparring, where you pick one of the Namgung Clan members here and spar with them."
In designated sparring, a trainee went up on stage and directly challenged someone from the unit they wanted to join. Naturally, the challenger had to hold a position high enough to select members. Usually, a deputy head stepped up, with the head watching. Only in special cases did the head fight personally—and that was rare unless the trainee was already famous.
The downside of this first method? You got just one shot to show your skills. Fail, and it was back to next year's evaluation.
"The second is for one trainee to go up and do five consecutive spars. Even losses don't mean elimination. Judgment comes after all five."
Five spars where wins and losses didn't matter. That was the core of the second method. It might seem harder, but it let you show more polished skills than designated sparring—more efficient, really.
Five chances to shine, versus betting it all on one unit. The five spars gave every watching unit a say, boosting your odds of passing somewhere. The fatal flaw? You might not get into your top choice.
"With explanations done, we begin the year-end evaluation."
There was no fixed order for the spars. The moment the grand elder announced the start, it had begun. Even who went first factored into the evaluation.
At that point, one repeater dashed straight onto the stage. He gave a polite cupped-fist salute, then bluntly pointed at someone.
His finger landed on Namgung Chiyeol, deputy head of Cheonggung Geomdan.
All eyes locked on Namgung Chiyeol. He grinned cockily and spoke.
"Fine by me."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Most were buzzing about the trainee on stage.
Bold move.
Looks young, but full of guts.
Usually, even in designated sparring, people targeted the outer court's martial units. There wasn't a huge power gap between outer and inner courts, but the inner units handled tougher missions and had stricter reputations—harsher standards overall. And if you had the skills to pass outer court, why risk inner court?
Lose here, and he'd kneel for another year. Or maybe quit the hall even sooner.
I eyed the trainee on stage. The "II" on his chest marked him as a repeater from last year's failure.
"You look familiar, kid. What's your name?"
Namgung Chiyeol, deputy of Cheonggung Geomdan, asked.
The trainee saluted politely with cupped fists and replied formally.
"Namgung Hwan, sir."
!
A name flashed through my mind.
Baeksal (Hundred Kills) Namgung Hwan.
I'd regressed to the past and entered the training hall just like before. Some faces I knew, some I didn't. Back then, I'd been trapped in my own world, barely interacting. Not much different now, but anyway!
Even I had heard the rumors about Baeksal. A swordsman who'd cut down a hundred foes in a single battlefield. If memory served, he'd ended up in Cheonggung Geomdan.
"I see. That explains it. You sparred with me last year too, right?"
"Yes, sir. Last year around this time, I went down in five seconds to your sword."
"And you challenge me again? Not precious about that year of yours? Haha! Entertaining. Head!"
Namgung Chiyeol suddenly turned and bellowed at Cheonggung Geomdan's head.
"What?"
The head replied indifferently.
"This guy's grit appeals to me. Mind if I handle him?"
"Do what you want."
"Thank you!"
Namgung Chiyeol gave an energetic salute to the head, then whipped back around.
"You last ten seconds against me, and you're in Cheonggung Geomdan."
"R-Really, sir?"
"Yeah. But don't think it's easy. Those ten seconds will feel like an eternity."
Namgung Hwan answered calmly.
"I haven't taken it easy for a single day since then."
"We'll see if that's bluff or not. Wooden sword or real steel?"
Regulations called for wooden swords. But real blades were allowed in designated spars—assuming the opponent was skilled enough to prevent accidents. And no one here lacked that skill.
"Real steel, sir."
"Good!"
A real sword was handed to Namgung Hwan.
"Here I come. Watch yourself!"
Namgung Chiyeol thrust lightly first. Namgung Hwan raised his sword to block.
Kaang!
Metal clashed, ringing out.
"Not bad fundamentals."
Namgung Chiyeol pulled back and thrust again, faster this time. Namgung Hwan, instead, lifted his sword high.
"Tsk tsk. Foolish choice."
No, that's not it!
Namgung swordsmanship was built on speed (kwae) and variation (byeon). But there was another foundation: the heavy sword style rooted in weight (jung).
Few Namgung swordsmen mastered heavy sword. Speed and variation were quicker to learn and highly effective in a world crawling with masters. Plus, the Namgung had arts that fit them perfectly.
The ultra-swift Seomjeon Sipsam Geomroe (Flashing Thunder Thirteen Sword Strikes). And the signature Cheonggung Mu-ae Geombeop (Azure Sky Boundless Sword Method), blending speed and variation seamlessly.
Both were top-tier martial arts in the jianghu—master either, and you'd join the elite.
Wung—
A deep sword hum emanated from Namgung Hwan's blade.
Baeksal. One of the rare Namgung swordsmen wielding heavy sword amid a sea of speed and variation.
To think I'd witness this.
I'd long abandoned dreams of the martial path, but if my heart as a martial artist didn't stir, it'd be a lie.
Cheolgeom Samsik (Iron Sword Three Forms). A refined variant of Cheolgeom Sipsik (Iron Sword Ten Forms), discarding the seven speed/variation moves unfit for heavy sword, perfecting the remaining three.
Jing—
The clash of steel on steel rang thin from the blades, but the heavy resonance reached everyone.
Namgung Chiyeol's cocky smirk finally hardened. Cracks spiderwebbed the stage under Namgung Hwan's feet, unable to bear the weight.
"Well, well?"
Namgung Chiyeol glanced at his own sword.
Wung wung—
It trembled nonstop. Any less force, and it would've snapped—humiliating.
Heavy sword. A rarity in Namgung. No, this level was scarce even across the world. And near perfection at that. Polish it right, and Namgung might birth another prodigy.
The heads and deputies from other units—who'd ignored Namgung Hwan entirely—along with elders who wouldn't normally attend, now had gleaming eyes. The look when spotting a true rarity, even in talent-rich Namgung.
Monsters crawling everywhere these days.
I muttered inwardly. I'd known what Namgung was like, but seeing it up close hit different.
And the remaining eight seconds ended.
Namgung Hwan still stood on stage. His sword had shattered under the strain, but its wielder smiled.
Namgung Chiyeol gave a sly smile.
"You pass."
The moment the monster called Baeksal was born.
The year-end evaluation had just started—barely the first spar over. Yet the trainees' faces darkened utterly. Everyone here knew the level of that bout.
Why, though?
Something felt off.
Impressive, sure.
Perfectly digesting heavy sword like that? Not just anyone. And customizing it to himself. But...
I feel like I could pull that off too.
Ridiculous confidence bubbled up from watching the spar.
I glanced at Namgung Je-cheon. He met my eyes and waved.
Am I crazy?
Hanging with that nutjob must've rubbed off. What else could explain it?
But it kept nagging me.
Back then, instead of brute-blocking like Namgung Hwan, just thrust here...
Wouldn't that neutralize the deputy head's sword easily?
I'm insane.
Daring to backseat-drive a high-level match like that. Guess not sparring anyone since regressing had my confidence bursting out unchecked.
"Trainee Namgung Hwan is now part of Cheonggung Geomdan. Next trainee, step up."
The grand elder's voice snapped me back to reality.
Swish.
The next trainee climbed the stage.