Chapter 46: Rival Friends Meet on a Narrow Bridge (1)

Jegal Yeon found herself standing without even realizing it.

They were young.

Not even old enough to be called late-generation prodigies yet.

And yet the Namgung Clan’s young clan lord—born with a Heaven-Forged Body—had lost?

A genius the Sword Sovereign himself acknowledged?

This was no different from a verdict.

A verdict that Namgung would not be able to hold on to the strongest position forever.

Thirty years at most.

If it was short, it might not even be ten.

‘...The Heaven-Toppling Society’s great work.’

Jegal Yeon clenched her small fist tight.

Fifty years.

Fifty years since the Sword Sovereign unified the martial world of the Central Plains.

The Demonic Cult and the unorthodox factions had been pushed back by the orthodox and driven into hiding.

Even the forces of the martial world beyond the borders did not dare covet the Central Plains.

She had thought that was how peace in the martial world would be made.

It wasn’t.

This wasn’t the peace she wanted.

A peace that chokes everyone’s throats, then consoles itself that no one is voicing complaints?

She didn’t want it.

‘...I have to tell the Heaven-Toppling Society.’

The martial world was turning under Namgung’s order now.

The One-Under-Heaven Corps rampaged through every direction, protecting the Alliance’s dictatorship.

And if it was necessary, they would even mobilize Namgung’s Night-Heaven Hall and risk assassination.

Inside this harsh, terror-filled “peace”...

The Jegal Clan had been supporting the Heaven-Toppling Society without anyone knowing.

Was it really only the Jegal Clan?

People with will, and people whose hearts matched, were gathered together.

That was why, no matter how much they hunted them, they couldn’t be uprooted at the root.

‘...That child can’t fall into the Alliance’s hands.’

*****

The Sect Leader’s quarters that also served as his office.

Red-Tile Pavilion.

Sect Leader Jeongyang ground his teeth and was about to slam his desk—

Then stopped at the sound of someone taking the doorknob and knocking.

“Allow me to see you for a moment, Sect Leader.”

Namgung Hyeong’s voice.

“Come in, Clan Lord.”

The door opened without a creak.

A doorframe fitted by a craftsman’s hand.

Namgung Hyeong entered the office and asked,

“Did you rest well last night?”

“I couldn’t properly sleep a wink.”

“Nor could I.”

Namgung Hyeong quietly latched the door.

Then he spread his qi around the room, cutting off sound.

It meant he had something secret to say.

“Are you also deeply troubled because of that girl?”

“I thought she was a plum that stood straight, so I could make her look at me. I failed at that, and I even failed at breaking her. She walks around with her head held high, still standing straight. How could my heart be at ease watching that?”

A long, grand lament.

But the lament was only appearance.

Was Jeongyang the kind of man to give up after one attempt?

How did he climb all the way to the Sect Leader’s seat!

But Namgung Hyeong was the same.

As a boy, he had been the Namgung Clan’s eldest son.

The eldest son the clan lord disregarded.

He had more aptitude than his other siblings, at least...

But he didn’t satisfy the Sword Sovereign’s eye.

Every time his father taught him, he clicked his tongue.

It didn’t matter if other retainers spoke well of him.

He criticized him, saying that like this he would never become the best under heaven—no, he wouldn’t even become the best swordsman in Anhui.

What drove Namgung Hyeong even madder was—

That it was true.

Even though in Anhui Province there were no great sects besides the Namgung Clan.

“...I’m the same.”

“...Huh?”

“I lived my whole life being cursed at for having no talent, and now I’m about to be told that I couldn’t even educate my talented son properly, and I’ve smeared mud on the clan’s name.”

Everything was his fault.

The Sword Sovereign literally blamed ‘everything’ on Namgung Hyeong being lacking.

The only exception was Namgung Seon.

He said he’d at least given birth to one proper son and raised his grandson straight.

Now even that was about to turn into an insult.

“The one who lost was the young clan lord.”

“That lack of virtue will be my fault too, won’t it. So, Sect Leader—before that girl grows any further, we have to cut the sprout at the root.”

“...Do you have a good method?”

“Yes. I have one method.”

*****

A youth sat cross-legged in the grass.

Maybe he took all of last night’s dawn dew—droplets clung to the edges of his eyelids.

It was Namgung Seon.

All of yesterday’s ferocity was gone...

He looked settled and clear, like a sky after a typhoon passed.

Cheon Soyak stood quietly, watching him.

Yesterday’s spar had left an impression on Soyak too.

And it had also been dangerous.

His inner power was abundant.

His martial comprehension was deep.

But she realized he had a curse he could not escape.

Stamina.

For the final move, Cheon Soyak had intentionally poured in tremendous inner power in a single instant.

It was to end it in one exchange.

‘...If Namgung Seon didn’t have pride.’

Soyak slowly closed her eyes, then opened them.

There was nothing to agonize over.

If he were a cold, seasoned master, he would have dragged it into a long fight.

And she might have lost miserably.

Her slender frame and thin body.

Her small height, even for her age.

Not bones and sinews born to learn martial arts like a Heaven-Forged Body.

Not a body like a Night Parade of Ten Thousand Demons that holds extreme demonic energy and regenerates wounds.

‘...Just a small, unimpressive body.’

Her childhood in the Gwak Family, living under oppression.

Days when she abused her body with an empty belly and a dried throat.

Inner power could breathe vitality into her, and permit surreal strength...

But it didn’t change the body itself.

Now, to change her frame into thick, big bones?

Impossible—whether through Hair-Cutting and Marrow-Washing, or Rebirth and Renewal.

At fourteen, she was no longer an age where the “foundation” could be changed by any means.

An inborn limit—having to rely on inner power and skill more than physical strength.

A chronic stamina problem that forced her to finish everything in a short, decisive battle.

It wouldn’t be an easy road.

So...

“What are you doing there, Cheon Soyak?”

Namgung Seon’s indifferent voice cut her thoughts off bluntly.

Soyak watched him rise slowly.

Those who lose after giving their best and producing the best result have something in common.

They’re frustrated.

If even after pouring out every talent and effort they have, it still isn’t enough...

A person collapses.

Martial artists call that a Heart Demon.

If it grows more poisonous and twists inner power and flesh?

That is the stage of deviation.

But there was no such sign in him.

His eyes were open in a playful way, and the pupils under his lids were still clear like the sky.

“I was watching you.”

“Hah. You know what happens if you spy on someone else’s training, right?”

Namgung Seon jokingly drew his thumb across his throat.

Of course, it was a joke.

It wasn’t even training—he’d just been sitting cross-legged, meditating.

“So. What brings our champion all the way here?”

“...There’s something I want to ask.”

He spoke.

That a commoner’s sky and a sovereign’s sky were different.

Soyak felt it.

That his sky was different from other people’s.

But it wasn’t the difference between commoners and sovereigns.

Was he lacking to be called a sovereign?

That wasn’t the problem.

It was a fundamental problem of some kind of “nature.”

His sky was free.

She didn’t know if it was because he was the Namgung Clan’s young clan lord and had the Sword Sovereign’s protection.

But while everyone else was trapped under the yoke of the sky Namgung ruled...

At least that part of him looked free.

“...Young clan lord, what do you think the world should be like?”

That was why she asked.

It was a question her heart made her ask.

She saw Namgung Seon’s eyes widen round.

“You ask interesting questions.”

“I’ll take that as praise.”

“The world should be like what, huh.”

Namgung Seon smiled broadly, then shrugged.

“You’re not hoping for some answer like, a world where people live according to what’s decided, fitting their station and their place.”

“I want to hear the answer you thought of.”

“A world where you can shove station and place aside.”

Something flickered in Namgung Seon’s smiling eyes.

Lack.

A lack of freedom.

Seeing that, Soyak tilted her head slightly.

“You’re curious why I answered like that, right?”

“You’re the person with the brightest future in this martial world.”

“Yeah, sure... but I can’t do anything except this.”

Young clan lord.

Namgung’s genius.

The one to succeed the Sword Sovereign.

The next clan lord.

Too many names were draped over him like a yoke.

Namgung Seon was not Namgung Seon.

He could not simply be Namgung Seon.

More than anyone, he was unfree—and more than anyone, he was someone whose self could not easily harden.

“...I think I get it.”

Soyak’s voice softened a little.

Because she felt she understood why he acted however he wanted, including what happened with Cheonjeong.

It was thrashing.

Namgung bloodline, the clan’s young clan lord, the most promising grandson of the best under heaven...

Thrashing while shouting, from all those yokes and shackles, ‘I’m just Namgung Seon.’

Namgung Seon looked down at Soyak as she mulled it over, and spoke.

“People mistake it for freedom the higher you climb.”

“Isn’t it?”

“It isn’t. Up high, it’s narrow—there’s nowhere to move around.”

Seventeen-year-old Namgung Seon was a pet.

A well-born son, a reliable heir to the clan lord, an ornament of blood with a jewel called genius.

He understood his own situation better than anyone.

And after a long time, he had made an unspoken deal.

In exchange for playing the ornament’s role, he would decide what kind of ornament he was.

He would not be bound by some ‘young clan lord’ title—quiet, taciturn, solemn, and nobody even knowing what kind of person it was.

Having finished thinking, Soyak looked up at Namgung Seon.

Then she held out that small, pale hand.

“Huh?”

“I don’t dislike you anymore.”

“Even if you say that, I’m still going to come crush you someday, you know?”

“You’re welcome any time.”

Namgung Seon snickered and took Soyak’s hand.