I Became the Namgung Clan’s Omnipotent Item-Powered Martial God - Chapter 16

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 16
Episode 16 – The Weight of First-Class
#1
Namgung Jinjin.
Direct descendant of Baekryong Dae-ju.
A child whose genius talent had blossomed enough that even the Clan Patriarch of the Namgung Clan took notice.
Moreover, he was a warrior who kept company with Namgung Yeon, the Clan Patriarch’s direct heir, for no better reason than that their names sounded similar.
Looking at the faces counted among his cohort, he felt assured.
That he was the one meant to lead this group.
Namgung Gunho gnawed at him a little, but since they’d trained at the same grounds, he knew the truth.
That fellow was beneath him.
‘But then, how does some nobody who never even showed his face at the Training Grounds suddenly appear claiming to be the Squad Leader?’
The one who suffered from Jeolmaek.
A weak thing who couldn’t even leave his bed, let alone train.
While everyone else wore away their bones with effort, he’d lived in comfort under his mother’s care.
For such a wretch to dare step into this sacred position?
No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t accept it.
And on top of that, the fellow had shown no respect to anyone, not even Namgung Yeon.
When they’d gone to visit, he hadn’t shown his face once, had turned them away at the gate.
He hadn’t forgotten that humiliating memory even now.
“I’ll pulverize every bone in your body!”
…….
He’d already stopped caring whether others were watching.
His father, Baekryong Dae-ju, had once harbored dreams of becoming Clan Patriarch himself, or so he’d been told.
But then, there’s always someone flying above whoever’s jumping.
Baekryong Dae-ju, who hadn’t been born with celestial genius, had ultimately failed to advance past the Clan Patriarch Selection Tournament.
But he would be different.
At minimum, higher than just Dae-ju.
He meant to climb to the rank of Hall Master presiding over an entire wing, or failing that, to the position of Junior Elder.
And you are my first stepping stone.
Flash Lightning Thirteen Sword Thunder.

A blade art so named for its thirteen techniques, each swift as lightning.
Among the Namgung Clan, which favored the subtleties of the heavy blade, it was one of the rare swordforms emphasizing speed and sharpness.
This technique had one defining trait.
That it was perfectly suited for dealing with clumsy opponents.
Thrusts swift as a flash cut through the air.
Everyone was predicting Namgung Jinjin’s victory.
Human intuition has always been this way.
It is the human mind to find it difficult to believe in what is unseen.
‘Father, are you watching?’
I cannot know what feelings stir in your heart as you observe this match.
Perhaps you aren’t even looking at it at all.
You have six brothers and sisters showing far greater promise than I, after all.
But at the very least, I remember clearly the promise you made to me three months ago.
Namgung Yeon’s eyes opened wide as he perceived every movement of Namgung Jinjin’s attacks thrusting in like flashes of lightning.
First-Class Warrior.
The weight that name carried was considerable, bearing witness to the years earned through recognition.
‘Genius or not, the rank of First-Class is a realm not just anyone can attain.’
So watch carefully.
See how the son who stood at the very bottom bends those standing at the very top to his will, one after another.
It will surely not fall short of what you, who are called a Warrior of Legend, would expect.
For now, let’s begin lightly, with the foundational blade art of the clan.
Heavenly Wind Sword Method.

The blade of Namgung flows like a fierce wind blown from the heavens.
To contain that very sky, first split the wind itself.
Namgung Yeon’s sword moved slowly, then brilliantly—each motion crystalline and clear.
#2
Crack!
Screech!
Each time Namgung Jinjin swung the wooden sword, it felt as though he were sinking deeper into a quagmire.
He had felt this sensation countless times before.
Precisely when he sparred against Namgung Mu, the direct heir of the Clan Patriarch.
It was staggering.
Every sword path was blocked; no matter which angle he pressed, nothing broke through.
His mind descended further into despair with each exchange, while his body grew heavy as though it had sunk into quicksand.
What troubled him most was the look in his opponent’s eyes.
‘What is this? What am I seeing?’
A gaze that felt nothing, hollow as an empty vessel.
An emptiness as if the very center of a deep, still lake had been pierced and left bare.
Though he was clearly looking at Namgung Jinjin, it seemed he was seeing through to something far beyond.
That light in his eyes—he had never witnessed anything like it from anyone.
Fear of the unknown began to grip him entirely.
As his spirit broke, his body could only move sluggishly.
“What are you doing?!”
Had that familiar voice—one he had heard countless times—not cut through like a blade, he would have collapsed right there.
Baekryong Dae-ju.
Namgung Jinjin’s father.
He had shouted, his face twisted like a fiend.
In that instant, all the hellish hours of training flashed through Namgung Jinjin’s mind.
Hours so brutal that his body had learned to move by reflex alone.
Harsh reprimands carved deep into his very bones.
‘To raise a child that way is to ensure he can do nothing for himself in the end…….’
Namgung Yeon watched Namgung Jinjin move in convulsive bursts, as though trained like a dog, without any expression.
A father’s love for his children.
No one here would fail to understand that.
Yet beneath the great discipline of the Namgung Clan, love was no ordinary thing.
Without strength, one was not loved.
Somewhere along the way, the children had been seized by that compulsion, whipping themselves forward through life.
It was also why Namgung Yeon himself had never entered the Training Grounds.
‘That leash must be loosened, and soon.’
True talent was something one explored and awakened within oneself.
At least, that was what Namgung Yeon believed.
You are all capable; to revive this Murim, you must break free from that mold and soar.
They are not enemies.
They are precious family of the Namgung, talented youths to grow alongside.
Do not forget.
Our enemy does not lie within.
To achieve that, even harsher methods were necessary to ensure their true transformation.
“Are you finished?”
……
“Your fundamentals are solid, but you have a habit of trying to execute only what you’ve been taught.”
“What would you know.”
“Precisely because I know far more than you do, I’m not even breathing hard.”
Namgung Jinjin’s lips trembled at these blunt, cutting words.
He refused to accept it.
That man who had done nothing but sit in a sickbed.
That man who had never endured even a day of harsh training—!
“What do you think you know, spouting nonsense like that—!”
Ahhhhh!
Namgung Jinjin, having abandoned all reason, lunged forward again.
His father, Baekryong Dae-ju, tried to shout once more, but was stopped short.
“Dae-ju, one intervention is enough.”
……
“Do not forget—this is discipline. Not out of ill will.”
“Damn it!”
Unable to bear watching further, Baekryong Dae-ju rose and departed.
Conversely, those who were wary of the Clan Patriarch or connected to him watched this bout with expressions of shock.
The commotion had naturally drawn all eyes to the spectacle.
It was the very place where Namgung Yeon and Namgung Jinjin’s match was taking place.
‘I was certain I heard he had a broken Jeolmaek…….’
‘What in the world is going on here? There should have been no time for him to cultivate martial techniques at all.’
‘He understands sword forms better than anyone else. His comprehension of martial arts is remarkable.’
Such was the sentiment of the masters of the Namgung Clan as they watched Namgung Yeon.
They all knew it, too.
That this young boy had taken his allowance, gone outside, and gotten up to all manner of things while he was away.
Which made it all the more impossible to understand.
“Patriarch, you must be delighted. It feels like discovering another jewel.”
“…….”
“Patriarch?”
“Ah. My apologies, Father-in-law.”
And present at this gathering were not only the blood relatives of the Namgung Clan, but also the elders of the Sacheon Dang Clan, the Patriarch’s maternal relatives.
The distance from Sacheon to Anhui was truly vast, yet how could they miss such an auspicious occasion?
The Grand Patriarch of the Sacheon Dang Clan, who had long wished to see his beautiful daughter again.
Dang Yeonho let out a quiet exclamation of wonder.
They said the fourth son had no martial talent whatsoever—surely this was nothing but a complete lie.
He chuckled to himself.
“Congratulations. Truly remarkable. I can see just how hard you’ve worked all this time.”
“Indeed, sir.”
“Yes. That physique, those movements. This is no beginner’s technique honed in mere days.”
“…….”
Namgung Mu gazed steadily at Namgung Yeon, who was toying with the son of Baekryong Dae-ju.
In terms of raw ability, one sword strike and his head would fly clean off.
It was skill that would be finished in an instant if crushed down with overwhelming internal energy.
But the timeframe—that was the problem.
‘I can scarcely believe it.’
Three months ago.
He’d believed the boy didn’t understand what it meant to become a warrior.
He’d thought the boy had no grasp of how much weight the term “first-class” carried.
So he’d spoken carelessly.
The innocent prattle of a child who’d never once held a sword.
That’s all he’d thought it was.
But look at him now.
The figure of one who understood that weight and bore it—it flashed before his eyes like a phantom.
Without needing to see more, he could already picture how ruthlessly the boy must have driven himself.
First-class.
The boy had taken those words, which he himself had thrown out so thoughtlessly, and carried their burden with such gravity.
‘I’m ashamed of myself, truly.’
He forced down the smile that threatened to bloom.
Before he was a father, he was a patriarch—and as such, he needed to hold all of them in his gaze.
At least one thing would be certain.
Namgung Yeon, too—the one thought to be the weakest—was fully deserving.
What will you take from me?
Your brothers and sisters, I have given them everything they desired.
To those who have proven their worth, I give equally.
That was the support he could offer as a father, not merely as patriarch.
#3
A first-class warrior.
To some, the realm refers to those most supreme among swordsmen.
To others, it speaks of the realm where one begins to transcend human limitations.
Though their words differ, one truth remained clear.
It was a realm utterly unreachable by ordinary effort alone.
To earn the title of “first-class,” one had to survive fiercely among countless scattered souls and prove one’s worth.
One whose presence commanded the assent of every warrior.
One capable of executing assigned duties with excellence, no matter where placed.
In the eyes of the Murim, such was what “first-class” meant.
“A first-class master? You?”
“Why? Is something wrong with that?”
Namgung Yeon stood before the drenched Namgung Jinjin, serene and unmoved.
Namgung Jinjin stared up at Namgung Yeon in disbelief.
He’d abandoned defense and pressed the attack, yet his strikes never landed once.
With the chains cast off, Namgung Yeon moved like a serpent, deflecting or parrying every assault with a hair’s-breadth margin.
A serpent.
No—this must be what an imoogi looks like in its youth.
Unable to accept that, all he could do was swing his wavering attacks again and again.
Namgung Yeon no longer bothered to evade.
Crack!
With a bone-chilling sound, Namgung Jinjin’s wooden sword spiraled through the air.
The sword tumbling carelessly at his feet seemed to prove his defeat.
Below his chin, the blade still trembled violently, unable to shake off the force of that terrible impact.
“Do you want to become stronger?”
“…….”
“Then you’ll need to follow my instructions carefully.”
Namgung Yeon smiled very faintly.
‘You’re actually quite fortunate.’
‘Meeting an instructor like me—it’s a stroke of destiny.’
“……I’ve lost.”
“I’ll take the next match immediately, sir.”
Namgung Yeon spoke without hesitation.
The instructor turned his head to watch the other duel elsewhere.
That one had just finished as well; they could begin at once.
Someone would surely complain that fighting consecutive matches without rest was unfair.
But on the battlefield, enemies don’t wait for tired warriors to recover.
The instructor jotted down some notes, then nodded.
“Very well. We’ll begin the next match immediately.”
“Huh……. What, Namgung Jinjin lost?”
His next opponent was the one who’d defeated Namgung Gunho.
He too was part of Namgung Jin’s clique.
“We’re running short on time, so let’s finish this quickly.”
“Quickly? That’s rich. And you, Namgung Jinjin, you worthless bastard—can’t even beat one person and you’re sprawled out like that?”
So spoke one of Namgung Jin’s lackeys as he climbed into the arena.
A boy not even worth remembering the name of—and that was the end of him.
“……what?”
In a single exchange, he couldn’t stop the blade from pressing against his throat.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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