False Sparring (5)
Everyone present was stunned. The expression on Namgung Hancheol's face just moments ago had clearly been a smile.
'That old man?'
I was just as shocked. My father turned to me and said,
"So that's how it is, then. My youngest."
This was insane.
"But I lost?"
The moment I spoke, murmurs erupted from all around: Yeah, the young master lost. Some stayed silent, but the mood was tilting toward accepting the obvious result.
This gave me courage.
"And I don't even have the strength to swing my sword anymore. Aigoo."
That's when my third brother spoke up.
"Are you daring to mock me?"
"Me? No way!"
"Did you think I'd rejoice in this fake victory?"
The noisy sparring ground fell silent in an instant.
"Pick up your sword. If this continues, from today onward, you're no longer my brother—you're my sworn enemy. And I've never let an enemy I recognize leave in one piece."
I'd never had a long conversation with my third brother. The same went for my second and eldest brothers. In the past, they hadn't cared about my existence at all, so it was only natural.
This damn clan! One spar, and they bet an arm as standard; brothers yesterday, enemies today. Unpredictable.
"If the match was rigged, that makes it even more absurd," those who had been silent began to say.
The problem was that they were the clan's top elders.
"Honestly, it does feel a bit awkward."
"Rematching cleanly wouldn't be bad."
Public opinion was shifting.
And then Father spoke.
"With opinions divided, it feels unsatisfying to end it like this. Very well. Better to dispel the suspicions. We'll accept the third son's proposal for a rematch. So, youngest—if you want to leave the stage, leave that arm you promised earlier. And third son, listen."
"Yes, Father!"
"Considering the gap in martial prowess between you and the youngest, the live blade duel will be limited to a single exchange."
"Perfect. Then what about internal energy?"
"How much would you like?"
"Three tenths is plenty."
"Approved."
Father turned to me.
"So that's how it is, youngest."
"Wait... what about my opinion?"
"You want to keep using wooden swords? I won't stop you."
Of course not. This clan was full of nothing but martial arts maniacs.
Haa...
Moments later, a live sword was in my hand. My third brother held one too.
"Show any cheap tricks this time, and I'll take that arm."
He meant it. I could tell without asking. The eyes of someone facing a true enemy. The aura.
Yeah. Earlier, when he'd accused me of mocking him, I'd flinched a bit.
'What if it got found out?'
No—it did get found out.
That was settled. And whatever the case, this was the situation now.
Even from a distance, the live blade's sharp edge stung my skin. Brother had channeled his internal energy; his sword hummed with a clear ring.
Whummm—
Just three tenths of his power, and it sang like that. Beyond the energy, it required perfect sword comprehension. I remembered around this time in the past, third brother was at the first-rate level. The man before me now was a full-fledged first-rate master, brother or not.
I erased every plan I'd made from my mind.
'I can't live as a one-armed cripple forever.'
I couldn't beat him anyway. One exchange. Just block this one attack.
Once. That's it.
I steadied my breath.
Huuuup. Hoo.
Then focused every nerve on third brother. The crowd around the stage faded one by one. Finally, my vision held only him.
Was my concentration always this good? I didn't know. This was the first time I'd focused with full effort.
How often in life does one bet an arm? Probably never for an ordinary person.
Focus. Focus. For my precious arm.
"Here I come, youngest."
Brother warned before attacking. Probably the utmost courtesy he could offer me.
If you're being generous, be more generous.
"Jeoryeong Swipam."
Yeah. That—the one you'd been dying to see. The soul-shattering slash. Terrifying name from the start.
Wuuung—
Surprisingly, it wasn't fast. I could clearly see the sword descending.
Was the sword slow, or was my extreme focus slowing time? Hard to say.
One thing was clear.
'No space to dodge.'
A single thin blade falling felt like a massive greatsword approaching. That must be what they call Singyeom Hapil, man-sword unity.
First time seeing it, past life or this one.
Perfect unity lets you see nothing but the sword, but I glimpsed brother, so not quite there yet.
Still impressive. He was only fourteen. And using just three tenths energy.
Without limits, it might've been flawless.
Hoo.
I exhaled my final breath. Not can I do this? but I must dominated my body.
All I knew was one thing: Samjae Geombeop.
I poured every scrap of my meager internal energy into my sword.
Ing-ing—
A pathetic ring, unlike brother's majestic hum. Whatever. I ignored it, sucking in as much breath as my lungs could hold.
'Go!'
First: three ji-se strikes at the exact spots where brother would step thrice. Block him there.
'This is it.'
Namgung So was certain as the youngest's attack extended. No mistake.
'As expected!'
Joy surged. Blood pumping through his veins. Fights with the strong always made him feel alive.
Now, it was the youngest.
Swish.
A movement impossible without internal energy unfolded from Namgung So. His forward step exploded into the air instead.
'What!'
Suddenly brother leaped, closing in instantly. Balance shook, power weakened—but his energy compensated.
'Brothers are all monsters.'
Fall for the same trick twice? No way. The ji-se whiffed.
But I had only one option. Next move: three in-se thrusts at waist, navel, elbow.
Brother still airborne. Even he couldn't fully evade.
Especially since!
'It'll land.'
He'd think my attack perfect now.
Swish.
Namgung So didn't dodge—instead, he lifted and kicked upward.
Pang!
'Huh?'
His kick met nothing. Only air burst emptily.
Then Namgung So realized: a feint.
'Fooled!'
He looked up. My sword plunged down.
Perfect counter hit.
First time fooling brother. One chance seized.
I unleashed Samjae Geombeop's sole ultimate technique: linking cheon-se, in-se, ji-se simultaneously.
My strongest known attack.
Brother looked up. Panic in his eyes steadied instantly. He righted his stance, sword rising.
Reverse of before. I had the high ground—advantage mine in theory.
Kang!
Whoooosh—
Blades met; my body launched skyward.
'Insane power.'
I was striking down, yet felt crushed beneath. I'd fly away like this.
Then his follow-up could sever my arm for real.
'Not dying as a one-armed freak!'
I tensed every muscle.
'No one-armed life!'
Every joint, fiber, muscle—everything.
Why? Coincidence?
My feet hit ground. Unprecedented clarity swept me.
'This!'
The sensation from wielding Samjae Geombeop.
Muscles swelled.
Ing-ing—
Weak ring boomed.
Uung-uung—
'Cut!'
All power into the sword.
Sinui watching the spar jolted.
'Namgung, you bastard... no way!'
The secret of Namgung Daeso's body. The history between Namgung Hancheol and him.
Only Yi Han knew among those present. Thus, only he grasped Hancheol's intent.
Samjae Geombeop built energy with use. But its value was minor body fortification.
Yi Han thought Hancheol aimed to build jeong foundation. Enough for lifelong health.
But.
'That kid's a vast wasteland.'
Barren, though. Rain fell: one drop meaningless. Then two, three... transforming it.
Cheonmu Jiche: land grander, richer than any if born right. Twisted meridians dried it to dust.
Samjae Geombeop's rain revived it.
'Broken bones heal stronger.'
But the vessel holding human essence? Once shattered, done.
What if it mended? If built for Cheonmu Jiche vastness?
'Yes.'
The boy embodied unfathomable foundation.
Did he sense his transformation? Probably not.
Muscles, bones, qi-blood, meridians, joints... near complete hwangol taltae.
'What scheme is this?'
Sinui eyed Namgung Hancheol.
Realization hit.
'No way—you!'
Creating another monster like you?
But just potential now. Opponent no slouch either!
'Namgung, what do you want this clan to be?'
Divine light gleamed in Namgung So's eyes.
"Tahahaap!"
Massive shout; sword arced high.
Slice.
Namgung So's blade grazed Namgung Daeso's chest. Blood sprayed as he flew.
Match over.
Silence.
Head elder declared: "Namgung So wins."
Some rushed to Daeso. His chest torn wide. Floor blood-soaked.
They tried acupoint seals, but too deep. Carried him to Uiyakdang.
'Good grief...'
Sinui rose without hesitation. Fatal wound for most healers.
Untreated, Daeso might die.
He glanced at Namgung Je-cheon.
'Not the type to sit idle.'
Je-cheon stared at the stage with uncharacteristic seriousness.
'Madman.'
Sinui thought, heading to treat Daeso. Couldn't let a life he'd saved die again.
Namgung Je-cheon believed the spar unfinished. Not the stage—Namgung So.
So remained onstage. His sword bloodied by Daeso.
Face rigid.
'Used half power.'
Last attack stronger than expected. Flinched, added two tenths unwittingly.
Namgung So looked up.
'I lost.'
Clang!
Dropped his sword.
Addressed all: "I lost this spar."
Uproar from So-victory believers.
Leadership silent.
Namgung Hancheol, knowing all: "Indeed."
So's bitter smile: "Grant me seclusion training."
Sudden third young master's demand: could shatter power balance.
"Won't stop you, but serious?"
So picked up discarded sword.
Crack!
Broke it barehanded. Jeolgeom. Hands bloody.
"Broke my vow to myself. Maybe the one bleeding should be me, not youngest. Father, grant two years seclusion."
Murmurs, even from leadership.
Only five silent: Patriarch Namgung Hancheol; eldest Namgung Dae; second Namgung Jung; strategist Namgung Ilro; deputy Namgung Je-cheon.
Hancheol, deeply satisfied: "Very well. Don't disappoint next time."
"Yes, Father!"
"This direct-line spar between Namgung So and Namgung Daeso: Namgung Daeso wins."
Patriarch's declaration rang.
Sparring ground deathly quiet.
All sensed: massive upheaval in Namgung Clan.
New era dawned, future unknown.
One more: the ignored youngest, Namgung Daeso, etched in every leader's mind.
For him, fate's turning point.