Namgoong the Sword Ghost - Chapter 101

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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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Chapter 101. Sword Demon Surgery
During his time as a Sword Demon, it was commonplace for him to drive his body to its absolute limits.
He could hardly ask enemies charging at him with murder in their eyes to wait while he caught his breath before resuming battle.
“When both my forearms’ tendons snapped, it was truly bleak. I manipulated them with Uigi Yeondong, but it was wholly ineffective.”
―Hahahah! Back then I was a complete puppet, truly.
―So that’s when you invented this Cheonsa Geom Ryeong Gong?
The Heukya Tae Geom laughed as though recalling old memories, while the Cheonrae Geom asked, seeming intrigued by the Cheonsa Geom Ryeong Gong.
Ho Yeon nodded and answered in turn.
“Precisely. I needed something to take the place of severed tendons.”
―Hmm, a most peculiar meditation technique. How did you construct it?
“Nothing special. I mixed various things together haphazardly. The principle of adhesion came from the Wall Tiger Art, and the principle of extension from the Turtle Breath Great Art.”
The Wall Tiger Art was a technique of moving along walls like a lizard, primarily practiced by gentlemen of the righteous sects.
From that, Ho Yeon had borrowed a portion of the Flowing Ghost Dragon Art—a variant that made one’s inner energy viscous enough to climb walls—and adapted it for his own use.
As for the Turtle Breath Great Art, it was a discipline that employed Nae Gong to expand lung capacity and lower heart rate.
For this reason it proved useful in concealment and breath-holding, making it an essential technique that assassins trained in.
From that, Ho Yeon had learned through the Thousand Year Breathless Art—a variant of the Turtle Breath Great Art—how to expand and contract his inner energy.
“Beyond that, I mixed in whatever else looked promising. Completely a hodgepodge meditation, you might say?”
―…… It’s astounding you survived at all.
―Hahahah! It was truly the Blood Vomit Art! As an oni, once I sat in cross-legged meditation I’d spill blood from my mouth without end.
“It’s a rootless technique, but I took great pains to create it, so I’m pleased it’s proving so useful.”
Ho Yeon smiled as he gazed at the fallen Se Geuk, and the Cheonrae Geom posed a question.
―But boy, how do you intend to restore both arms? Does this Cheonsa Geom Ryeong Gong possess some hidden function?
“Nothing like that.”
―Then?
“I’ll use Uigi Yeondong.”
Whoooosh!
The moment he finished speaking, Spirit Energy began to surge and churn from Ho Yeon’s upper dantian.
A telekinetic field spread across the surroundings, and he sensed the presence of prisoners within the dungeon as well as Ja Ryang and Mun Yeon standing near the entrance.
They were dutifully following orders to prevent anyone from entering under any circumstances.
Tss-tss-tss!
Having assessed the surroundings, Ho Yeon concentrated all his attention on Se Geuk.
Then Se Geuk’s bones, muscles, blood vessels, nerves, and organs came into focus as though visible before his eyes.
‘There.’
Among them, Ho Yeon’s gaze fixed upon Se Geuk’s elbow region.
The medial ligaments connecting upper and lower forearm were cleanly severed.
Ho Yeon withdrew the Moonlit Red Blade from his garment and cast it forth.
Whoosh! Skreee!
The Moonlit Red Blade floated through the air and made a precise, delicate incision along the inside of Se Geuk’s elbow.
―Hey, you bastard! What in the name of—!
The Cheonrae Geom cried out in alarm, but Ho Yeon answered with characteristic calm.
“Just watch.”
Tack!
Thwick-thwick-thwick!
Then Ho Yeon extended his hand as though grasping and pulling something, and the damaged tendon was drawn out through the opened skin.
“In haste, one could use one’s own tendons—those of limited use in combat—but since materials are at hand, there’s no need for such measures.”
Ho Yeon’s gaze turned to the corpse lying on the floor, its skull split open.
Shriiiip! Screeee!
The Tender Love Sword was drawn and severed the binding cord, after which the Moonlit Red Blade made a long vertical incision along the corpse’s forearm.
―This, this inhumanity! You profane the dead once more!
At the Cheonrae Geom’s outcry, Ho Yeon shrugged and offered the same response as before.
“What does it matter? They’re already dead. And this time I didn’t even kill them.”
Tack!
Thwick-thwick-thwick!
As Ho Yeon finished speaking and extended his hand toward the corpse, the long palmar muscle was extracted from the split forearm.
“Sturdy stuff.”
Seeing this, Ho Yeon nodded with evident satisfaction.
Next, he unfolded the Sword Finger Seal and directed it at Se Geuk’s right arm.
Skreeeee!
The long palmar muscle then entered the inside of Se Geuk’s elbow, and Ho Yeon, closing both eyes, issued a warning.
“From this point forward, I must concentrate, so do not speak.”
Whoosh! Whoooosh!
Though his eyes were closed, through the Uigi Yeondong he could see with crystalline clarity the tendons slipping into Cheon Se Geuk’s elbow.
Slip. Sliiip.
The tendons crept inward with careful precision, skirting the surrounding nerves and muscle until they reached the elbow joint where the humerus and ulna met.
“Hhhh.”
Ho Yeon drew a deep breath and moved the Sword Finger Seal through the air as if painting an invisible canvas.
The extracted tendons crawled forward like a water snake, seeking their original place.
Thwick! Tap-tap-tap!
In the midst of this, Ho Yeon compressed the Uigi Yeondong to a needle’s fineness and bored two small holes through the ulna and three through the humerus.
‘From experience, this method ensured the strongest integration.’
Whoosh!
As Ho Yeon swept the Sword Finger Seal, the tendons passed through the drilled holes, binding the humerus and ulna together in a form resembling the character for “eight.”
Snap!
Next, using a knotting technique learned from fishermen in Zhejiang Province, Ho Yeon secured the tendons, then performed the identical procedure on the left arm before opening his eyes.
“Hhh… it’s been so long, I’m exhausted.”
Ho Yeon pressed his throbbing temples as he regarded Cheon Se Geuk.
“An ordinary person would need months to recover, but a martial artist should achieve bio-grafting in a matter of weeks.”
Looking at the man lying unconscious, unaware of what had been done to him, Ho Yeon smiled faintly.
“In a way, you’re like my predecessor. Consider this repayment for awakening memories I thought long forgotten.”
Those days were bleak and reeked of blood, a struggle for bare survival—yet somehow, when recalled now, they felt almost nostalgic.
The sight of the Cheonsa Geom Ryeong Gong stirred those desperate feelings from that time, filling Ho Yeon with an unfamiliar sentiment.
“Though I wouldn’t want to return to it.”
―You scoundrel. Have you studied medicine? What manner of dark physician’s work is this?
The Cheonrae Sword spoke to Ho Yeon, still lost in reminiscence, its tone rigid and clipped.
Ho Yeon shook his head and replied.
“I know nothing of medicine. But I know the human body intimately. I’ve killed plenty and broken plenty.”
Though the Cheonsa Geom Ryeong Gong had substituted for the severed tendons, the results were never satisfactory.
So he had analyzed the differences between a healthy arm and his own, comparing them methodically.
After countless experiments, he had mastered this Tendon Reconstruction Technique.
“For a time, I was called the Corpse-Solution Sword Demon because of it. Tch.”
As Ho Yeon muttered to himself and clicked his tongue, the Cheonrae Sword rumbled.
―Just as I thought. A Jianghu criminal through and through, employing methods both grotesque and vile.
“Old codger, isn’t it backwards? Since when am I a Jianghu criminal?”
―I’ve heard your excuses, you scourge of the land. Now tell me—what is the name of this technique?
The Cheonrae Sword ignored Ho Yeon’s aggrieved protests and pressed further.
Ho Yeon pouted and answered curtly.
“Tao Persists—the path endures for those who persevere.”
* * *
Like all alley orphans.
His life was nothing much.
He would die beaten senseless while stealing, or lose his hands and perish while dodging debt. That was his fate.
A mayfly’s existence.
One unlucky day he would collapse dead, remembered by no one—such was a mayfly’s lot.
Then one day, as he trudged through that miserable existence.
The Sword Demon.
He heard of Dan Wee Myeong.
Like him, Dan Wee Myeong was said to have come from the alleys as an orphan.
But unlike him, Dan Wee Myeong refused the fate of a mayfly and chose to live for many days instead.
He strapped a sword chest to his back and faced down countless enemies.
He turned the entire world against him and survived with bold defiance.
In the end, he died.
But his name became Mythology, and still lives on.
His heart thrilled.
Could he?
Could he too live for many days?
Could his name, Cheon Se Geuk, be remembered by people?
Could he be remembered?
It was the day the mayfly chose to rebel against his destiny.
Upon hearing that there was a sect that worshipped him as a god, he rushed to Chongqing.
Chongqing was the legendary city where Dan Wee Myeong had first begun to make his name known to the world.
There stood the Geumgeom Mun.
A place that dared not bear the name of Sword Demon, and so inverted it instead.
It was a sect where seekers of the sword gathered—those who would later be called Sword Heaven in the Jianghu.
The sect’s rules were simple.
To serve the Sword Demon.
Young Cheon Se Geuk entered the Geumgeom Mun, and after countless trials, he became a Ghost Sword Hand.
Along the way, he made a friend named Seo Bi Woo.
He’d thought of him as a true friend—right up until Seo Bi Woo took both his arms.
‘Is this a lantern dream?’
Cheon Se Geuk felt his clouded consciousness gradually sharpening.
His head burned; the scent of medicine drifted into his nostrils; thin threads of light leaked through his eyelids.
“Nh…”
“Oh my.”
The moment Cheon Se Geuk opened his eyes, Nan A—who had been nursing him at Namgung Ho Yeon’s request—blinked.
‘Who is this?’
Even through his blurred vision, he could feel the striking beauty of the woman gazing down at him.
‘Could this be my daughter?’
Though he had never seen her face, his daughter was said to surpass even the beauties of Beijing First Tower and Geumobong Ru in loveliness, and was known as the Singular Beauty of the Golden Phoenix.
That thought weighed on him.
In this harsh Jianghu, beauty carried meanings that were far from fortunate.
“Heh, if only she were a touch less fair… my back wouldn’t be bent under this burden. I don’t know how much gold I’ll need to offer…”
As Cheon Se Geuk muttered this in his half-waking state, Nan A tilted her head and replied.
“Donor. It seems you spare no words even before a nun? May you reflect and find repentance.”
“Uh, wha—?!”
Whoosh!
Hearing this strange chant for the first time in his life, Cheon Se Geuk kicked off his blanket and sat upright.
“Ugh!”
Thud.
Overcome by dizziness, he stumbled and caught himself against the floor.
“Please be careful. You’ve been lying down for four days.”
“Four days? What do you—”
Cheon Se Geuk furrowed his brow, about to ask Nan A for the full account of what had happened.
Then he noticed something strange.
‘What… is this? Why are my arms…?’
He looked down at the arms propping him up against the floor.
Arms that should have collapsed without strength were now holding his body upright like solid pillars.
“This is… a cruel dream indeed.”
“Mental confusion seeks liberation from suffering.”
“Listen, woman. Who are you? Where am I? Am I dead?”
“The selfless one flees from reality.”
Muttering her own chants and shaking her head, Nan A spoke to Cheon Se Geuk.
“You received a pardon and were transferred here from the Prison of Thunder.”
“A pardon…?”
“Our sect leader—Namgung Ho Yeon—vouched for your identity.”
“Namgung… Ho Yeon.”
Memories stirred in Cheon Se Geuk’s mind—the confrontation in the Prison of Thunder.
He had been defeated in their match, and had agreed to help Namgung Ho Yeon with nothing to his name.
Then Ho Yeon had smiled softly and said…
“I’ll return your arms. Chess piece.”
“…!”
Cheon Se Geuk’s eyes flew wide open.
He lifted both arms to examine them.
They trembled, yes—but not from weakness. The trembling was the aftershock of a truth too impossible to accept.
“Ah, ahhhhh!”
Tears streamed down Cheon Se Geuk’s face.
His lost arms had returned to him.
His broken wings had grown anew.
He didn’t know how this had come to pass.
But one thing was certain:
He could hold a sword again.
“Hua-a-ahhhhng! Hua-ahhhhng!”
Cheon Se Geuk wept like a child, his whole body shaking.
The sorrow and despair of his years as a cripple washed away with the tears.
A raw, choking sound tore from his throat.
After crying for a long while, Cheon Se Geuk suddenly clenched both fists and asked through his tears.
“Where… where is he?”
“Pardon?”
“Where is my benefactor?”
“Ah, if you mean Ho Yeon—he’s in Mong Seong. He departed four days ago.”
“Mong Seong!”
A fierce light blazed behind his eyes.
Something crimson and resolute kindled in Cheon Se Geuk’s gaze.
It was the look of one who had climbed to the eighth rank among the Ghost Sword Hands.
The eyes of the Chaotic Wind Ghost Sword.

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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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