WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Order
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
◈ The Heaven-Slaying Sword ◈
Chapter 37: Chapter Five - Dragon-Phoenix Assembly (10)
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The competitors’ waiting room.
Mok Ri-won sat cross-legged in the middle of the modest room, lost in thought.
Ever since watching Il-un and Hyeon-gong’s match a week earlier, one question had never left his mind.
‘Why did he harbor murderous intent?’
Why had Hyeon-gong harbored murderous intent?
Why did he hold malice in a heart that should have embraced righteousness and Chivalry?
He could have simply dismissed Hyeon-gong as an evil man.
He could have decided Hyeon-gong did not follow Wudang Sect’s principles.
Still, Mok Ri-won did not want to reach a conclusion so easily.
“A chivalrous hero is someone who never stops thinking.”
That was what his master, Mok Seon-o, had always told him.
‘A personal grudge?’
Did Hyeon-gong hate Il-un?
‘Pressure from outside?’
Was it a conflict between sects?
‘Or perhaps...’
Did he simply enjoy killing?
“...”
Mok Ri-won opened his eyes.
A deep, strangely hollow shadow lay within them.
“I’ll find out when I get there.”
He unfolded his legs and rose.
Cheers thundered even into the waiting room.
Shaking off the shadow gathering in his heart, he headed out.
* * *
The Sword King, Namgung Hyeok.
Seated at the highest place in the arena, he spoke to the old woman beside him.
“I thought you had no interest in such things.”
“I came out for a little outing. Doesn’t old age make one curious about pointless things?”
The old woman chuckled as she answered. She had a gentle, pleasant appearance.
That alone stirred curiosity among those guarding Namgung Hyeok.
‘Who in the world is that old woman?’
If Namgung Hyeok, a man who always valued hierarchy, had allowed someone to sit beside him, she had to be a master from the previous generation.
Yet none of the masters they knew fit the image of such a kindly old woman.
There was no need to say it.
The old woman was Yeom So-so, the Killing Star.
Like Namgung Hyeok, she was one of the Four Stars and Six Kings. More than twenty years ago, during the Bloody Affair, she had made a certain choice alongside him.
“Are you after the Ink Sword?”
“I told you, I came out for a little outing. What about you, Sword King? Are you after that boy too, even though you already have a grandson like that?”
“Who knows?”
Namgung Hyeok quietly watched the still-empty arena.
The Ink Sword, Mok Ri-won.
A rising talent currently setting the Martial World abuzz.
Namgung Hyeok could not deny that the moment he heard those words, a memory had surfaced.
“Are you the Sword Dragon?”
A man brimming with confidence, yet never arrogant.
A man he had never been able to surpass, even at the very end.
With the appearance of the Ink Sword, Namgung Hyeok had thought of a man who could no longer be called the Sword Star.
‘If the Sword Star truly raised that child...’
If the child he had taken in at the end of the Bloody Affair had grown safely, he would be around Mok Ri-won’s age now.
Namgung Hyeok wanted to confirm it.
Whether Mok Ri-won was truly a child who had inherited the Sword Star’s will.
If so, whether the child raised by the man he had wanted so desperately to surpass, a man who had even discarded his own name, had grown according to that will.
Whether the Sword Star had carried out his will.
...And whether he was still alive.
“I’ll call it entertainment as well.”
“Hehe. You’re still such a dull man.”
The guards stared at Yeom So-so in alarm.
Unbothered by their looks, Yeom So-so gazed at the arena.
Just then, two men stepped onto it.
‘Hm. What a pretty face.’
Unlike Mok Seon-o in his youth, Mok Ri-won had a delicately handsome face.
Yeom So-so found that rather amusing.
* * *
The cheers swelled louder than ever.
The heat from the crowd turned to humidity and clung to the skin.
At the center of it all, Mok Ri-won looked at Hyeon-gong, the Immortal Dragon.
“I look forward to our match.”
Hyeon-gong gave a carefree smile as he offered a cupped-fist salute.
Mok Ri-won returned the salute.
Then he asked, “Why did you harbor murderous intent?”
“Pardon?”
“Your match with Venerable Il-un. Do you understand what I mean now?”
Hyeon-gong flinched.
That reaction strengthened Mok Ri-won’s conviction in what he had suspected.
Still, Hyeon-gong’s reply was disappointing.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
Hyeon-gong only continued to smile mildly.
Mok Ri-won watched him for a moment before looking away and lowering his hands.
“There is no need to say more. I understand.”
The announcer stepped back and raised a hand.
Mok Ri-won rested a hand on the sword at his waist.
He had not heard an answer.
But he could feel it.
The piercing Killing Intent that spread through his body the instant he asked the question.
That was proof more certain than any answer.
“You and I cannot speak of Chivalry.”
The announcer dropped his hand.
At once, Mok Ri-won shot forward.
Clang!
The match had begun.
* * *
Whenever people in She County spoke of the Ink Sword, Mok Ri-won, one topic always came up.
‘What kind of swordsmanship does he use?’
It was only natural.
Since joining the Dragon Phoenix Gathering, Mok Ri-won had never shown more than a single move.
Even that one move had always ended with him snapping his opponent’s sword in two.
Some said:
“It’s a power sword! What else could it be? The Ink Sword is a swordsman who overwhelms opponents with sheer strength!”
Others said:
“What nonsense. He uses weighty sword strikes! Do you think splitting a blade in half can be done with strength alone? It requires knowing exactly where to place one’s force and concentrating it there!”
Then there were those who rejected both views.
“I think the Ink Sword’s swordsmanship contains the beauty of flow, like Wudang Sect’s. Don’t you agree? He never swung first. He only drew his sword after his opponent struck. Looking at that, isn’t it more likely that he used the opponent’s own strength to break their sword?”
Until today, no one had been able to give a definite answer.
Now, those who had debated the question could finally see his swordsmanship properly.
“A swift sword...”
His sword carried the principles of swift swordsmanship, raining down rapid strikes with overwhelming speed to crush his opponent.
That expectation did not last long.
Mok Ri-won’s next move was far too strange to be called a swift sword.
It swayed like a crawling snake, sprang like a bunting, then suddenly stopped dead.
“An illusory sword?”
That was how it appeared.
At least, to their eyes.
The masters who understood swordsmanship better, the prestigious factions gathered here from across the Central Plains, gave hollow laughs and fixed their eyes on his movements.
“No. It is none of those.”
They had already reached a superhuman realm.
They could manifest natural qi and discern the flow within it.
That was why they knew.
“Irregularity.”
That was irregularity.
From weighty sword strikes to power swordsmanship, shifting into an illusory sword before thrusting again with a swift sword.
It was what every swordsman in the Martial World desired, yet no one had ever properly accomplished.
“What an absurd...”
That was extravagance made possible only through the blessing called talent.
Someone from a prestigious faction who had been watching him spoke.
“Prepare negotiations at once.”
Not long after those words, several people from different factions left their seats throughout the stands.
A miraculous talent.
In a Martial World built on strength, such talent should have drawn envy and resentment.
Not now.
The Ink Sword, Mok Ri-won, belonged to no faction.
Which meant his talent could be claimed.
That fact alone changed him in their eyes from something wondrous into a treasure, a fortuitous encounter to be regarded with greed.
The stagnant Martial World had begun to move.
* * *
Mok Ri-won drove Hyeon-gong back without pause.
He gave Hyeon-gong no chance to fight back, no matter what move he tried.
He also meant to crush the murderous intent Hyeon-gong had dared to reveal.
He had not originally planned to use his full strength, but there was only one reason he had changed his mind.
‘His heart is crooked.’
Hyeon-gong, the Immortal Dragon, had a crooked state of mind.
Yet Mok Ri-won still hoped he would come to understand Chivalry.
Ma Il-seok had once said:
“There’s nothing more likely to stray down an evil path than those bastards from prestigious factions.”
“Why? They grow up looking up to chivalrous heroes.”
“That’s exactly why. They only know how to lord over others, so they become insolent. Every generation produces young talents drunk on their own arrogance who commit acts fit only for unorthodox factions. Though in our generation, Brother Mok beat them all into shape.”
“My master?”
“Yes, at the Azure Dragon Martial Tournament. The Sword King was one of the bastards who fought Brother Mok. He was so rude I didn’t even want to speak to him, but after Brother Mok beat him down, he became a little more docile.”
“Beggar, you were no better.”
“Ah, Brother Mok! We agreed not to talk about that!”
“Oh dear. My mistake.”
Young talents from prestigious factions were all the more likely to stray down an evil path.
The higher one stood above others, the more easily one became arrogant.
“Won-ah.”
“Yes!”
“One day, you will meet people like the ones Beggar spoke of. When that happens, will you show them a little kindness and guide them onto the right path?”
“Yes! I will!”
“Good. What a good boy.”
Those who understood Chivalry had to set them straight.
Clang!
Hyeon-gong’s sword was knocked aside.
As Mok Ri-won charged in again, Hyeon-gong held his breath and unleashed Wudang Sect’s martial art.
Taiji.
The pinnacle of Wudang’s martial arts, containing the harmony of all creation within a circle.
And the most elegant counterattack in the martial arts of the Central Plains.
The force Mok Ri-won had unleashed was sent back toward him.
Mok Ri-won avoided it with ease.
Whoosh.
The moment his sword thrust through empty air, Mok Ri-won flicked his wrist and snapped the blade aside.
Shhhh.
Ink-colored Qi Waves wrapped around his sword.
At the same time, pale blue Qi Waves enveloped Hyeon-gong’s blade.
Sword qi against sword qi.
Their inner power was similar, so the outcome would now be decided by how they wielded it.
“You should reflect on your actions.”
Mok Ri-won said that as he swung his sword.
The flow was unlike anything he had shown until now.
Mok Ri-won, who had shifted among several sword styles through irregular movements, took on a formal stance for the first time.
A form.
The flower of martial arts, rendering the essence of martial learning into a physical shape and embodying its principles in a single move.
Ink-colored Qi Waves glimmered faintly.
The color was as dull as fresh black ink, yet it had such a strange resonance that it seemed to shine.
Mok Ri-won recalled his master’s teachings.
“The Seven Meteor Swords are seven sword forms that recreate the movement of the stars.”
Mok Ri-won drew his sword back as far as he could.
It was clearly the posture for a thrust.
For an instant, Mok Ri-won became Mount Tai itself, unshakable by anything in the world.
“The first form was modeled after the Big Dipper. It contains the brightest star and the eternity that never wavers. Our founder looked upon it and thrust toward the heavens seven times, completing this sword.”
Seven consecutive strikes that could never be broken.
The first form of the Seven Meteor Swords, Seven-Star Halberd Sword.
Tap.
Mok Ri-won stepped forward.
At the same time, his sword shot out like a ray of light, aiming for Hyeon-gong’s shoulder.
Hyeon-gong wrapped Qi Waves around his shoulder, but it was a meaningless struggle.
Crack.
A sickening sound rang out as Hyeon-gong’s left shoulder collapsed.
The sword itself had not touched him.
The Qi Waves sent with it had twisted his joint.
“Ghk...!”
Hyeon-gong’s eyes widened.
Mok Ri-won did not stop.
He thrust in rapid succession at Hyeon-gong’s right shoulder, lung, heart, right waist that supported his body, knee, and foot.
Hyeon-gong’s stance collapsed.
As Mok Ri-won completed the form and prepared to swing his sword again to finish the match, he noticed a smile on Hyeon-gong’s lips.
‘...A smile?’
For a moment, Mok Ri-won hesitated at that incomprehensible reaction.
His body stiffened.
Clang.
Hyeon-gong’s sword fell to the ground.
“Ink Sword! Wiiiins!”
The announcer’s cry rang out, followed by roaring cheers.
Hyeon-gong fell.
Mok Ri-won stared at it all with a stunned expression.
Then he became certain.
‘Just now...’
Hyeon-gong had deliberately allowed the form to strike him.
And in the final moment, he had dropped his sword not because he lacked strength, but by choice.
His smile implied something.
‘...Winning was never his goal.’
Hyeon-gong had entered this match intending to lose from the start.
* * *
Namgung Hyeok gripped the armrest of his chair hard enough to crush it.
“Did you know?”
“What are you talking about?”
Namgung Hyeok glared at Yeom So-so fiercely.
He formed a curtain of qi to seal away the sound, then continued.
“The Seven Meteor Swords. You did not think I would fail to recognize them.”
Namgung Hyeok was truly angry.
Not at Mok Ri-won, but at the old woman before him.
“I knew you were not the sort to come to a place like this without reason. So tell me, was it enjoyable to mock me?”
She had known from the beginning.
She had known that the young man called the Ink Sword was the Sword Star’s child.
The child from the final day of the Bloody Affair.
Namgung Hyeok’s presence grew savage.
The guards outside the barrier did not know it, but Yeom So-so could clearly feel the inner power boiling within him.
Yeom So-so chuckled.
“Well? Didn’t that old man make something rather impressive?”
“...”
Namgung Hyeok frowned.
His gaze turned toward Mok Ri-won, who still wore a dazed expression.
‘Sword Star...’
Looking at Mok Ri-won and recalling the first form he had displayed, Namgung Hyeok finally let out a hollow laugh.
‘...So this means he is alive.’
Crunch.
The armrest shattered.
The fire that had remained extinguished in his heart since the Bloody Affair began burning once more.
Footnotes:
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