WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Order
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◈ The Heaven-Slaying Sword ◈
Chapter 68: Chapter Eight - Friendly Martial Arts Match (3)
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The day of the martial arts match dawned.
Mok Ri-won fastened his sword at his waist and prepared to step onto the platform.
There was only one reason he had gone first.
“Thank you for indulging my stubbornness.”
The day before, he had asked them to scrap all their plans.
The unit members smiled at his solemn expression as they recalled what he had said.
“I want to spar with Great Hero Golden Sword. I want to draw him onto the platform. I want to tell him about the joy of crossing swords.”
Everyone here knew it. Whenever Mok Ri-won, usually so childlike, spoke with such a serious expression, something extraordinary was bound to happen.
“Good luck.”
Dang Hwa-seo smiled, and Mok Ri-won returned it with a faint grin.
“I'll bring back results worthy of the trouble I've caused.”
He stepped onto the platform.
* * *
Kwon Pyo-wol wore a troubled expression as he watched Mok Ri-won approach the platform.
The conversation from the previous night ran through his mind.
“I heard your story, Great Hero. I didn't know your personnel evaluation was coming up. I'm sorry.”
“Ah, no. I should be the one apologizing. I let down your expectations.”
“Then may I make one more unreasonable request?”
“...What is it?”
“Please come onto the platform.”
“Ha ha, I'm sorry, but...”
“It is only a martial arts match.”
Kwon Pyo-wol could not forget the smile Mok Ri-won had worn in the shadowed corridor, where even the moonlight seemed dim.
“Using a sword to uphold Chivalry is more important than anything, but isn't this strange? I think it makes no sense to spare one's sword in order to wield Chivalry with it.”
They were words as stubborn as a child's, yet they held a strange power.
Kwon Pyo-wol had been unable to find anything to say in reply.
All he could do was dwell on Mok Ri-won's parting words.
“I'm not forcing you. I understand your position, Great Hero. I know there are things one must give up for a greater cause. I only came to tell you something.”
“...Tell me what?”
“I will take the lead in the matches and never lose. If I win every match, it will likely hurt the White Sword Unit's personnel evaluation. So...”
Kwon Pyo-wol remembered the playful smile Mok Ri-won had flashed then.
“Wouldn't Golden Sword have no choice but to come up and show us how it's done? He'll have no choice.”
Kwon Pyo-wol clenched his fist tightly.
Even so, something stirred in his eyes. A smile formed on his lips before he realized it.
‘No choice,’ huh?
He had told him to come onto the platform and spar because he had no choice. It sounded like nothing but wordplay, yet Kwon Pyo-wol could not deny it.
If, by some remote chance, that happened, perhaps he would cast aside every other thought and step onto the platform.
Perhaps he would find joy in nothing more than crossing swords.
Why did such a desire rise in him now, after all this time?
If there was a reason, Kwon Pyo-wol thought, it was probably the light in that young man's eyes.
‘Clear.’
Mok Ri-won's gaze was clear, like a perfectly transparent lake.
* * *
Boom! Boom!
The drums sounded.
At the same time, the martial artist from the Azure Dragon Unit acting as referee shouted.
[Take your positions!]
At those words, Mok Ri-won moved to the center of the platform.
The man climbing up opposite him was a martial artist famed within the White Sword Unit for his quick sword.
“It is an honor to cross swords with Ink Dragon. I am Wang Il.”
Quick-sword wielder Wang Il gave a cupped-fist salute, and Mok Ri-won returned it.
“I hope we have a good match.”
Though he said so, Mok Ri-won's attention lay elsewhere.
Golden Sword Kwon Pyo-wol was watching him. That gaze strengthened his resolve.
Mok Ri-won knew he was being unreasonable.
Still, he had decided not to care anymore.
‘This is the Jianghu, the Martial World.’
A world of martial artists who upheld Chivalry through the sword, a ruthless world where only the strong could prove themselves right.
What if he was throwing a childish tantrum? What if it was romantic folly born of ignorance of reality?
All he had to do was prove himself. Mok Ri-won would no longer hesitate to prove himself with his sword.
Shing.
His sword left its scabbard.
Only then did Wang Il's stance enter Mok Ri-won's sight.
Both hands gripped his sword, poised to slash upward.
Mok Ri-won had definitely seen that stance in one of the sword manuals he had pored over.
‘Jade Thunder Advancing Sword.’
A sword art built around three lightning-fast slashes.
The moment Mok Ri-won recognized it, he changed his stance.
It was the exact stance of the Jade Thunder Advancing Sword.
“...!”
Wang Il's eyes widened.
A hollow laugh escaped him soon after.
‘Right. This is Ink Dragon.’
He tensed his muscles.
He had heard enough about what Mok Ri-won had done at the Dragon Phoenix Gathering to make his ears ring. The string of single-move victories he had achieved while targeting only Namgung Jin-cheon in the group preliminaries, the ever-changing sword forms he had shown after entering the main tournament, and finally the incomprehensible swordsmanship he had used to crush Namgung Jin-cheon.
All of it was more than enough to make Wang Il realize that Mok Ri-won was not doing this as a joke.
Wang Il grinned.
“You intend to draw out the Unit Leader.”
“I won't deny it.”
Mok Ri-won smiled faintly, and Wang Il felt a surge of excitement.
Of course. He was certain Mok Ri-won would not use half-hearted moves if his aim was to draw out their Unit Leader.
‘He intends to show the Unit Leader!’
That the unit members were not enough to be his opponents, that there was a gap between them which only the Unit Leader could close.
Still, Wang Il said, “It won't be easy!”
Mok Ri-won might be a genius who could someday be called the greatest of all time, but he was still only an eighteen-year-old youth.
A novice whose entire experience of the Martial World amounted to the Dragon Phoenix Gathering.
Sparks crackled around Wang Il.
He had unleashed Thunderclap Art, the companion art of the Jade Thunder Advancing Sword.
He intended to show this young sprout that talent alone was not enough to survive in the Jianghu, and that one could look too far ahead only to stumble over a stone at one's feet.
[Begin!]
Crackle!
Wang Il's sword shot forward in a burst of lightning.
It aimed for Mok Ri-won's waist.
Its path was impossibly clean. Perhaps his tension and resolve had helped, but it was the cleanest stroke he had produced in recent memory.
‘I've got him...!’
Wang Il was certain of it.
It was a fine enough sword to teach this junior a lesson.
Clang!
...But it was far too slow to lecture Mok Ri-won.
Moving Later, Arriving First.
Mok Ri-won displayed the profound principle of drawing his sword later yet reaching his opponent first.
Wang Il froze as a sword reached his throat at a speed beyond his comprehension.
“...That was a good sword.”
Wang Il let out a hollow laugh at those words.
‘Good grief.’
The first thought to cross Wang Il's mind when his defeat was decided was that he should never have said, “It won't be easy!”
* * *
The matches became horrifyingly one-sided.
As though he meant to demonstrate the difference in their levels, Mok Ri-won overwhelmed the White Sword Unit's swordsmen with absolute skill.
The fifth martial artist had already stepped onto the platform.
Not one of them had endured a single move from Mok Ri-won.
It should have been a miserable sight.
Yet smiles bloomed on the faces of the defeated martial artists.
“Wow, that opening move was incredible! I didn't even see Ink Dragon draw his sword!”
“Of course I'll remember today and think about it whenever I'm feeling down! ‘It won't be easy!’ Ha! That's the line of the year!”
“Hey, you!”
Wang Il, who had lost first, Jang Sam, Cheon Gu-yong, and Ha Jin-mok, who followed after him, all laughed.
Why would they not? Though they had lost, every one of them had enjoyed themselves.
They had sparred with an opponent they could acknowledge and felt the tension of that moment.
Kwon Pyo-wol felt a pleasant tickle in his chest.
‘...Me too.’
A bitter smile crossed his face at the sudden thought.
On the platform, Do Pyeong, the fifth challenger, cried, “Oh dear!” as he fell.
[Ink Dragon wins!]
“That was a good sword.”
“You flatter me! Ink Dragon's sword truly lives up to its name! I have learned much from you!”
A bold smile hung on Do Pyeong's face as well.
“Unit Leader.”
Someone called to him.
It was Sa Gyeong-un, the White Sword Unit's Deputy Unit Leader and his comrade of many years.
“Is it your turn?”
“What are you talking about? If I go up there, I'll only lose. I'm the Deputy Unit Leader, you know. I don't want to embarrass myself by facing that monster.”
Sa Gyeong-un laughed heartily.
Then he stopped, smiled gently, and spoke to Kwon Pyo-wol.
“Did you know? Ink Dragon came to see me yesterday.”
“...Ink Dragon did?”
“He told me about situations where one has no choice.”
Kwon Pyo-wol turned his gaze toward Mok Ri-won.
The young man watched him with the eager longing of a boy.
Kwon Pyo-wol felt his body stir.
“Unit Leader, at this rate we may not be able to hold our heads high in the Martial Alliance. Won't you go show him a thing or two?”
At Sa Gyeong-un's words, Kwon Pyo-wol bit his lip.
“...You know as well as I do.”
This was not a reasonable match. If he lost, the White Sword Unit would suffer a greater loss than if every member had been defeated.
It would be better for them to lose every friendly match without their Unit Leader stepping in.
To simply enjoy it, the wall of reality was...
‘...No.’
No. Kwon Pyo-wol lowered his head and looked at the sword hanging from his waist.
The golden scabbard had been his vow to never forget the weight of his sword.
Yet that vow had clouded his sight.
‘No. Perhaps...’
A thought came to Kwon Pyo-wol.
Perhaps he had been afraid.
Perhaps he had been dazzled by that brilliant gleam and, at some point, begun to chase a position rather than martial arts.
Kwon Pyo-wol's brow furrowed.
Trying to take the safe road before Mok Ri-won, someone weaker than himself, was not the way of a martial artist.
‘I did not take up the sword for a position.’
There had always been only one dream.
The dream that had brought him from being an instructor at a martial arts hall in a rural town to this place, the person he had wanted to become, was not who he was now.
‘Sword Star.’
He wanted to become a steadfast martial artist like him, one who could place righteousness into every strike of his sword.
He was not meant to become someone so crushed by the weight of his sword that he feared even drawing it.
Only then did Kwon Pyo-wol let out an empty laugh.
It was only after those thoughts that he realized it.
‘What am I doing?’
Why was a martial artist hesitating to draw his sword?
Why did he fear an evaluation more than his sword?
Kwon Pyo-wol cursed himself.
When he raised his head, he saw the unit members standing there.
Most of them could have held better positions elsewhere, yet they had followed him. They were comrades for whom he was grateful.
They had followed him because they admired the righteousness he carried.
Kwon Pyo-wol laughed at the anticipation shining in their eyes.
“...You really are going to make me embarrass myself completely.”
As Deputy Unit Leader Sa Gyeong-un stepped aside, the unit members drew back.
A path to the platform opened before Kwon Pyo-wol.
He looked at it.
‘The path I should have taken long ago...’
Kwon Pyo-wol stepped forward, heading for the platform.
As he walked, he drew his sword and flung the golden scabbard to the ground.
‘...I was enthralled by mere trappings, and only now do I walk this path.’
Mok Ri-won, standing on the platform, beamed.
“I look forward to it.”
Kwon Pyo-wol had to admit it.
He was stubborn. So very stubborn. In the end, Mok Ri-won had drawn him here, so it was fair to call this his victory.
Yet he remained clear and pure.
He was an example of what a martial artist should be.
So Kwon Pyo-wol decided to forget.
“Five unit members have lost to you.”
The complicated personnel evaluation. The dignity he needed to display as Unit Leader. The hollow byname of Golden Sword.
He forgot it all and spoke as the swordsman Kwon Pyo-wol.
“So I will yield you five moves.”
For the first time in a very long while, he smiled like a child.
“Come.”
Footnotes:
Glossary health note: 옥뢰진검 | existing form: Jade Thunder Quaking Sword | proposed form: Jade Thunder Advancing Sword | evidence: the source explicitly writes 玉雷進劒, where 進 means “advancing.”
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