WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Chen
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◈ The Martial Genius who Remembers Everything ◈
Chapter 433: Wings Flying South (3)
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Yi Muwon.
He was the martial artist facing Gang Yuseong.
The Blood-Soaked Hawk Sword.
Yi Muwon had earned that epithet at the age of thirty.
Like a hawk, he always made his enemies bleed. That was why they called him that.
Now, he unleashed the footwork in which he excelled most.
Broad, swift steps worthy of being called the finest in the martial world.
“Haah!”
Just as his sword qi-infused blade was about to sever Gang Yuseong’s arm.
Swish.
Gang Yuseong vanished like a ghost.
“W-What?”
Yi Muwon had executed a flawless move, yet he sensed that something was wrong.
He was gone?
There was no sensation through the sword in his hand.
Even after looking in all three directions around him, he could not see Gang Yuseong anywhere.
Then.
“Well fought.”
A young voice came from behind him.
Gang Yuseong had somehow appeared where Yi Muwon had been standing.
But what had he just said?
Something was wrong. Yi Muwon tried to turn, but his body would not move.
“...”
“...”
The spectators were looking at him strangely as well.
Why were they all staring at his chest?
Drip.
Only then did Yi Muwon lower his gaze and see red dye spreading across his chest.
“With something this trivial...”
The moment he tried to tighten his grip again.
Clang.
The sword he had been holding was already rolling across the ground.
Drops of blood fell onto it.
Sword wounds had appeared on one arm.
Then the other.
Both legs as well.
How many times had Gang Yuseong swung his sword in that brief instant?
The speed alone was incredible, but Yi Muwon could not even begin to understand the principle behind those changes.
“Is this... truly a martial art of the Taeul Sect?”
Gang Yuseong answered the incredulous question plainly.
“Yes. It is the Taeul Sect’s Extreme Heaven Sword.”
“Hah... I heard it was only a third-rate sect...”
Thud.
Yi Muwon looked at the protesters with eyes full of resentment, then fell backward.
A suffocating silence settled over the area.
“Hehehe.”
A nasty laugh came from the Taeul Sect’s side alone.
“What did I tell you?”
The laugh did not suit the solemn atmosphere at all.
#
“Did you see that?”
Namgung Taeha said dazedly.
Moyong Gang did not answer, but Namgung Taeha let it pass.
After all, even he, who had lived his entire life as a powerful martial artist, was shocked enough to feel dazed.
“Such speed, and such changes on top of it.”
“...”
When no answer came, Namgung Taeha looked at Moyong Gang.
Moyong Gang was frowning deeply as he bit at his nails.
“Damn it... Damn it... I should have made him stay when he came as an exchange disciple.”
“What are you talking about? An exchange disciple? Have you met that child before?”
“I didn’t know he was this capable back then... I only thought his innate aptitude was decent. Damn it...”
“What?”
“What do you mean, ‘What?’ You saw that, and all you can do is admire him?”
“...”
Moyong Gang clicked his tongue.
“This is why there’s no helping young masters raised in comfort.”
“...”
It was not as if Moyong Gang himself had grown up in hardship.
Namgung Taeha wanted to grab him by the collar and curse him out, but unlike Moyong Gang, he had a sense of dignity and held himself back.
“You’ve been obnoxious since then, and nothing has changed.”
It was hardly a compliment.
“Does that look like a martial art of the Taeul Sect to you?”
“A martial art of the Taeul Sect?”
The aura it gave off and the principles it contained were undoubtedly those of the Taeul Sect’s newly recovered martial arts.
Yet when he looked at it...
It was different.
Clearly different.
“The principles of the Twin Heavens Sword Art are Change and Illusion. That madman Jin Sowoon uses the Lesser Heaven Sword Art as a swift sword art, but that doesn’t mean the principle of Change within it becomes something else.”
Moyong Gang looked at Gang Yuseong, who was waiting for his second challenger.
“The Twin Heavens Sword Art becomes a superior martial art because Change and Illusion are harmonized properly.”
Change was deception.
Flow was slowness.
Weight was heaviness.
Swiftness was speed.
Illusion was lightness.
Combining principles with different traits within one martial art was no easy matter.
In that sense, the Greater Heaven Sword Art recovered alongside the Taeul True Scripture was what completed the Taeul Sect’s martial arts.
“But there’s a problem. When you focus too deeply on one principle, gaps always appear.”
A martial art that leaned too heavily toward one principle would be consumed by another.
Move after, control first.
Softness Overcomes Hardness.
Even the Wudang Sect, which upheld such principles, was sometimes defeated by Mount Hua’s sword.
“It is a trial that no sect can avoid.”
That was why Wudang had produced the Thirteen Taiji Stances, a martial art built on entirely different principles.
“And history fills the gaps left by that trial. It is a problem only time can solve.”
Slash! Slash! Slash!
Waaaaah!
Cheers erupted again.
Gang Yuseong’s opponent had not even lasted ten exchanges before being dragged off the stage, covered in blood.
Moyong Gang gritted his teeth as he watched.
“Unless you have a genius like that.”
“...”
Following Moyong Gang’s gaze, Namgung Taeha looked at Gang Yuseong.
Still, no matter how closely he watched, he could not understand.
At most, he could tell a few things.
His foundation was solid.
His expression was stiff and his upper body trembled, but his lower body remained stable.
He had trained extensively.
He did not know how his opponent would attack, yet he responded smoothly.
That was impossible without brutal training.
His innate aptitude was excellent.
Even when he reacted late, he targeted only the most efficient openings.
That was an instinct no amount of training could teach.
That was all Namgung Taeha could see in Gang Yuseong.
He could not see beyond it.
Nor could he understand why this strange old man was so worked up over Gang Yuseong.
Perhaps Moyong Gang noticed his expression, because he gave Namgung Taeha an incredulous look.
“Has this old fool gone senile? That brat isn’t even twenty, yet he has harmonized the principles of Swiftness and Change. Does that look like ordinary talent to you?”
Only then did Namgung Taeha understand.
Those who became masters through study and training alone, without coming from renowned clans.
Those who created their own martial arts and founded schools of their own.
The talent of a founding patriarch.
Namgung Taeha’s gaze shifted to Hyeok Mugang.
They had dominated the same era, but their beginnings had been entirely different.
Namgung Taeha had trained superior martial arts passed down through generations, while Hyeok Mugang had created his own.
At times, Namgung Taeha wondered.
If Hyeok Mugang had been born into the Namgung Clan, would he have surpassed him?
If their positions had been reversed, could Namgung Taeha have risen to Hyeok Mugang’s place?
As if he had noticed Namgung Taeha’s thoughts, Moyong Gang continued.
“Carrying on what you inherit and creating what did not exist, I cannot say which is greater. But one thing is certain. A sect needs both.”
“...”
“The Taeul True Scripture has the potential for that kind of development. And the Taeul Sect already has someone who can carry on what has been inherited.”
Moyong Gang looked at Jin Sowoon and Gang Yuseong.
Then at Geumpyo, Eunho, Dongryong, and Saryeon.
And the Taeul Sect disciples cheering around them.
Namgung Taeha understood without hearing anything more.
At his age, a person no longer worried about their own future.
He had already come as far as he could, and there was no further path ahead. What concerned him instead were his ideals, his clan, and those who would carry them on.
He wanted his clan to preserve its purpose and flourish even after he was gone.
“I see...”
In that regard, he envied the current Sect Leader of the Taeul Sect beyond measure.
There were many children in his own clan who could carry on what they had inherited, but none who could open a new path.
“I envy him...”
At the same time, Namgung Taeha found himself warming to Moyong Gang.
He had thought Moyong Gang was just a senile old man who lived without a care, but he was someone who worried about the future of the martial world and his clan just as Namgung Taeha did.
“Is envy all you feel? I’d steal him if I could. Wait... that boy isn’t the Head Disciple, is he? Then couldn’t we bring him in as a son-in-law?”
“...”
“I don’t think the Taeul Sect has such strict restrictions. We have someone in our clan who is the right age...”
Namgung Taeha would have felt even closer to Moyong Gang if he had not heard the rest.
“T-Taeul Sect’s Gang Yuseong wins!”
It happened just as Gang Yuseong claimed his fourth victory.
#
“Taeul Sect’s Gang Yuseong wiiins!”
Gang Yuseong’s winning streak continued.
The trembling in his feet stopped, and his sword no longer shook.
His pure eyes stared straight at his enemies. The protesters, wreathed in rage, desperately swung their swords, only to see blood spill from their own bodies.
Victory.
Victory!
Victory!
The victories of a child whose bones had not yet fully matured drew cheers not only from the Taeul Sect, but from the spectators as well.
Then, as he secured his eighth straight victory, a man rose from among the despondent protesters.
He was the man who had stood in our way on the first day we arrived at the Taeul Sect.
So he had seen enough to assess Yuseong.
Nearly eighty people had fallen, yet the man had not shown the slightest hint of agitation. Slowly, he stepped onto the training ground.
“I watched closely. Your achievement is remarkable for one so young.”
Jang Buyong, One Saber Against a Thousand.
He slowly drew his saber.
Even ordinary people who knew nothing of martial arts grew tense at Jang Buyong’s appearance.
Everyone instinctively understood.
The years he had accumulated.
The unyielding path he had walked.
“But I do not believe you are strong enough to disregard the rules of the martial world as you please.”
Jang Buyong quietly took a middle stance. There was not a single opening to be found.
Gang Yuseong, who had counterattacked until now, could not decide where to strike first. His gaze wavered.
“Would you like me to move first?”
“...”
Jang Buyong stepped forward and swung his saber, and Gang Yuseong unleashed the Extreme Heaven Sword.
At the same time, Jang Buyong, who had extended his saber, began retreating.
Clang, clatter-clang, clatter-clang.
Gang Yuseong had always occupied his enemy’s rear, but Jang Buyong still stood before him with saber in hand. He could not hide his shock.
“Fast, and the changes are impressive as well. But do you think no such martial art has ever existed in the martial world?”
Gang Yuseong swung his sword.
A sword faster than anything else, with changes beyond anything else.
Clatter-clatter-clatter-clang.
Jang Buyong blocked them all.
“Do you think that having new martial arts makes you a new justice?”
Then his saber swung.
Swish, swish.
Fast and ever-changing.
Slice, slice, slice, slice.
It cut Gang Yuseong’s arms and legs.
Clang.
Gang Yuseong barely blocked the saber thrust at his chest, and Jang Buyong spoke.
“There was already justice and a righteous path in the martial world. A firm justice that has preserved peace for hundreds of years.”
Gulp.
Gang Yuseong’s throat bobbed.
His face turned deathly pale.
It was the sign of an internal injury.
Clang.
Jang Buyong swung his saber.
Gang Yuseong was driven back several steps by the blow.
Bleurgh.
Gang Yuseong vomited a mouthful of blood, then glared at Jang Buyong with desperate eyes.
Jang Buyong, however, was looking at Hong Mungi, the Sect Leader of the Taeul Sect.
“Argh!”
Unable to accept defeat, Gang Yuseong rushed at Jang Buyong.
Jang Buyong had been watching Hong Mungi, but he swung his saber without emotion.
Whoosh!
Blade force bloomed from his saber and struck Gang Yuseong directly.
Boom!
Gang Yuseong barely deflected the blade force, but he could not block the aftershock of their energy clash.
He flew to the other side like an arrow, and Geumpyo and Eunho leaped forward to catch Yuseong in their arms.
“Yuseong!”
“Yuseong!”
Sama Jeong, who had been waiting nearby, hurriedly administered first aid.
“He’ll be fine. A few days of rest and he’ll recover. There’s no need to worry.”
The Taeul Sect’s second-generation disciples breathed a sigh of relief, then glared at Jang Buyong with blazing eyes.
Yet Jang Buyong continued staring at Hong Mungi.
“How long do you intend to hide behind your disciples and use them as sacrifices?”
“...”
“If the justice you advocate is right, then prove you have the strength to uphold it!”
It was a cry that declared this martial contest was not a simple friendly match, while condemning the Taeul Sect’s wrongdoing.
The excited atmosphere sank heavily, and the spectators seemed too burdened by its weight to even breathe.
The Sect Leader looked as though he wanted to rush out at once, but thanks to the requests of the Hall Leaders and me, he vented his anger by crushing the armrest in his grip.
Prove your justice...
I had heard those words far too often.
I rose from my seat.
“There is still a disciple left.”
Jang Buyong looked at me.
“Yes. You were here.”
Why pretend not to know me? That’s hurtful.
He had been glaring at me throughout the entire contest.
I slowly stepped onto the training ground and drew the Scarlet Radiance Sword.
“If you prove it, does anything become justice?”
“One must possess at least the minimum qualifications.”
“Your Orthodox Society’s justice is difficult to understand.”
“...I am speaking of the rules of the martial world.”
I did not understand.
I had never thought proving something made it just.
Well, perhaps I would understand after showing him.
Hummm.
The Scarlet Radiance Sword turned golden.
Warmth from nowhere filled the entire Taeul Sect.
“Please see whether I am qualified.”
Despite the cries of the excited crowd, my heart settled as calmly as a lake.
Footnotes:
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