Sword Sovereign vs. Mugwang, The Birth of the Thunder Emperor, and the End of the Spar (2)
Namgung Jung had no idea what expression to make in a situation like this. So he was pulling a face he'd never made before in his life.
This can't be happening...
Something utterly impossible had just occurred.
The Namgung leadership had been predicting the outcome from the moment Sword Sovereign clashed with Invincible Light—now reborn as the Thunder Emperor, Namgung Cheon. Perhaps they were all wearing expressions much like the one on Namgung Jung's face. They hadn't anticipated this turn of events any more than he had.
"Does this even make sense?"
He knew it did, but he asked anyway.
"I can't even find the words."
Words were coming out, but he claimed they weren't. It was just sheer disbelief. Or maybe his soul had left his body.
Meanwhile, some among the leadership showed different reactions. Yi Han, the divine physician, didn't care who saw—he was plastered to Namgung Hancheol's side, slapping his arm over and over.
Smack!
"You saw that, right? You saw it? Of course you did!"
Maybe the leaders' comments hadn't been about the sparring stage at all, but this very spectacle.
After about five smacks...
It had to be the most times Namgung Hancheol had ever been hit in his life.
"One more, and I'll cut that arm off."
"Ahem! Oh, sorry."
Only then did Yi Han realize he'd gone too far. Even after that, though, while everyone else was stunned into silence, he grinned from ear to ear.
Aigoo, what a cutie! Guess I'll have to give him some of my special healing pills.
"Tsk tsk. Looked scrawny from the start."
Namgung Hancheol clicked his tongue at the stage, clearly displeased, but no one paid him any mind. His aides might have heard, but it never crossed their minds that "scrawny" referred to Elder Namgung Cheon.
But in life, there's always that one weirdo.
"Right? The patriarch saw it all along!"
Namgung Hancheol shot Namgung Je-cheon a glance. Namgung Je-cheon puffed out his chest like he'd accomplished something grand. Namgung Ilro gave Namgung Hancheol an awkward smile at the sight.
Namgung Hancheol turned back to the front as if nothing had happened.
Whack!
Just then, Namgung Ilro smacked Namgung Je-cheon's head.
"Ow, damn it! Why'd you hit me out of nowhere?!"
Namgung Je-cheon had never been struck by his master before Ihyang arrived. Now it was a daily occurrence.
"Aigoo... When will that fool grow up? If he took after Ihyang even halfway, I wouldn't worry like this."
Unlike the old days with no one to compare him to, now there was the impeccably proper Ihyang. His once-precious disciple suddenly seemed...
"I've grown up plenty fast! Got through puberty without a hitch! Admit it, Master—you're thrilled. Look at that stage. I believed in the youngest young master!"
Whack!
"Ow, damn it! Quit hitting me!"
It hurt Ilro's hand more than Je-cheon's thick skull, but he chuckled anyway.
"I see. Heh heh."
The spectator stands had been deathly quiet since Sword Sovereign and Thunder Emperor began their clash. No one dared interject. You had to grasp the sheer brilliance to gasp in awe, know who was winning to cheer, see the moves to offer commentary. All they could say was it was astounding.
A duel at the pinnacle of the martial world.
From the crowd's view, it didn't matter who won. They'd witnessed something unforgettable today—a memory to cherish forever, a legend to pass down. Everyone who saw it was the victor.
"First time?"
Most martial artists spend their lives under the vast sky of the Namgung name.
"Probably..."
"Did that really... just happen?"
They strive and challenge to break free at first, only to crash into despair. No matter how high they climb, the sky remains untouchable. Most waste their lives realizing this simple truth.
"He pulled it off, right?"
"Seems... like it..."
Perhaps today was their first glimpse. Not just touching the sky, but shattering it.
It planted a feasible ideal in their hearts.
I can do it.
I'd never dare, but it's possible.
As expected of him.
They suppressed their burning chests. The stage wasn't over yet.
Geum Dondong kept his sharp gaze fixed on the platform. The maids and head maid finally exhaled, able to watch again.
On that stage.
Daeyeon Geomdan's captain, Namgung Pil, stood resolute before the fallen man. His squad lined up behind him.
They clearly intended to keep fighting.
Our side ignited with battle spirit in response.
I pushed through the Daegalbak uncles and stood beside the flat-nosed grandpa, still proudly holding the stage.
"Hey~ Impressive, huh? That last one—was that it? The thing you were gonna teach me but didn't."
"Told you, nothing to teach. Heh heh heh—cough! Don't talk to me. Barely holding onto consciousness here."
"Kekeke! Hang in there a bit longer. I just thought of a great way to end this spar. All thanks to you, flat-nose grandpa. How lame would it be if you collapsed now?"
Mujikja craned his stubbornly unturning head to glare at Namgung Daeso.
Anyone could see it screamed: What the hell can you do?
"Hey! Suspicious eyes! Not cool—I believed in you!"
"Like hell you did. Yapping nonstop about joint attacks. Tsk tsk."
"Huh? You heard all that?"
"Whatever. Just end it quick! I'm about to pass out."
"Yup, yup."
Namgung Daeso patted Mujikja's shoulder and stepped forward.
To the crowd, it looked like a young lord encouraging his returning subordinate before heading into battle himself.
Damn punk's acting! Mujikja grumbled inwardly.
Someone stood beside him. No need to look—Mujikja knew who from the ocean-like aura radiating from his back.
"Thanks."
"No big deal."
Ilseon Daesa replied curtly, curious how his young lord would wrap this up.
"Alright, Daeyeon Geomdan!"
I strode toward their tense group.
I was wide open now. If they attacked for real, I couldn't block or dodge—straight loss.
But they just watched warily, no strike coming.
Nah, they can't.
I was certain. They wouldn't attack me.
Hitting me now would fool everyone here.
More precisely, it'd tarnish the epic duel those two masters just delivered.
If they were true Namgung warriors, as I knew them...
They wouldn't touch a fingertip, a toe, not even a single hair on me.
I kept advancing, step by step. I stopped only when their swords hovered at my nose.
"Came to make a proposal. Let's call off this pointless grind. The result's obvious anyway."
Namgung Pil, sword still aimed, replied.
"Arrogance? Think I can't cut you down? At this range, I can before your backup arrives."
"Nah~ I know better. Why say something so cold? I know Namgung inside out. They're the best at chopping arms and gutting bellies."
Namgung Pil's brow furrowed slightly.
What're you gonna do about it?
I wasn't lying.
And I knew he wouldn't strike.
Namgung Pil's pride.
The driving force that got him into Namgung and to captain of Daeyeon Geomdan, overcoming countless setbacks.
"But you won't."
"You wanna throw away all that effort? Namgung isn't Ma-gyo."
People say Ma-gyo and Namgung are no different.
Can't deny it entirely—both full of madmen.
But one insurmountable difference divides them.
"To grow strong, we'll do anything."
Words every Namgung soul holds dear.
"The Namgung I know pursues only strength."
Chasing strength is martial world's axiom. The weak get death.
But how they pursue it? That's where Namgung and Ma-gyo diverge.
Ma-gyo does anything to win. Steal from allies? Stab backs without hesitation. Heinous acts? No biggie. Even self-sacrifice. All for becoming strongest.
Win, and it's fine. Their logic, their law.
Vast power demands vast responsibility—but standards vary.
One thing's certain.
"After that awesome spar, be honest, Captain—your blood's boiling. Wanna rampage like mad. Not against a nobody like me, but that bald grandpa over there. Whole body's itching for it."
I grinned at brother Namgung Jung, then whispered solely for Namgung Pil's ears.
"I'll make it happen. Not now, but anytime you ask later—I'll set it up. Reject my offer? Hmm... We're outnumbered, so no epic duel like you dream. Just get mobbed and fizzle out."
Ilseon Daesa eyed me curiously.
Hahaha! Take that!
After all I'd endured!
I continued.
"I'm their lord, y'know. You saw—patting the shoulder. Quit now, and anytime today you wanna go, I'll make it happen. Stake my honor as Namgung Sega's youngest young master. Doubt it? Slice me here."
Moments later, Namgung Pil bowed to Namgung Jung.
"My apologies. I'll accept any punishment."
Namgung Jung gawked, baffled. Namgung Pil was stepping off the stage on his own.
The grand elder stared in disbelief, then met my eyes.
"Na-Namgung Pil... out of bounds."
I nodded in satisfaction and headed for the next target.
With an offer no true Namgung could refuse.
Winning isn't what matters to them.
Why can't folks distinguish ignorant fools from martial idiots when they see Namgung warriors?
'Cause they're truly ignorant.
For strength, for battling the strong—they embrace martial idiocy.
Soon, the stage held only Cheonryongjeon folk.
I shrugged at the grand elder. He looked at me with utter exasperation.
"Proxy duel goes to Namgung Daeso."
It ended anticlimactically, but the pent-up cheers erupted.
"Wooooaaah!!"
"Cheonryongjeon's victory!!"
"Sword Sovereign! Sword Sovereign! Sword Sovereign!"
"Ma-slayer! Ma-slayer! Ma-slayer!"
"Nine Dragons! Nine Dragons! Nine Dragons!"
"Fire Sovereign! Fire Sovereign! Fire Sovereign!"
Tch... No mention of my name amid all that.
"Namgung Daeso! Namgung Daeso! Namgung Daeso!"
Oh! There I am? Who's that?
"Over here! Youngest young master! Youngest young master!"
I turned to the sole voice cheering my name.
"Damn it! Look over here! Youngest young master!"
Why him of all people?!
Namgung Je-cheon jumped up, waving frantically at me.
Ignore him.