Namgoong the Sword Ghost - Chapter 145

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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 145. The Sword Demon’s Journey to Yichang
Liaoning Shenyang.
The grounds lay shrouded in darkness and silence, yet the Moyong Clan Estate churned with festive commotion.
The Post-Ceremony Banquet following Mo Yong Hu’s Investiture Ceremony as Minor Lord, held that morning, continued well into the night.
“Ah, what an auspicious occasion.”
“Indeed it is.”
“Young Master Mo Yong Hu will bring even greater prosperity to our clan. No doubt about it.”
“Ha ha, that’s certain. And from now on, it’s not Young Master—it’s Minor Lord, if you please.”
“Oh, my mistake. Ha ha ha!”
Warriors flushed with drink walked toward the banquet hall, their laughter warm and unguarded.
And above them all, one man watched in silence.
“Kh-heh-heh, what a farce.”
A darkened room.
A man with a bitter smile playing at the corner of his mouth tilted a wine bottle to his lips.
“Gulp! Gulp! Pff-heh-heh-heh!”
Half the wine went down his throat; the other half spilled down his chest, soaking his robes.
Yet still the burning resentment in his breast refused to cool.
“I, Mo Yong Cheol. To fall so low as this.”
Today his defeat had been sealed.
The subordinates who had sensed the shift in fortune and begun their drift away would now accelerate their departure.
Only two paths remained open to him.
Either he would accept amputation and live quietly as a cripple.
Or he would grovel as Mo Yong Hu’s lapdog.
“Heh-heh-heh! Had it been me, I’d never have allowed such a threat to linger, but our Minor Lord lacks the cruelty to raise a blade against his own blood.”
Mo Yong Cheol muttered as he stared toward the raucous banquet hall.
Now that Mo Yong Hu had become Minor Lord, there could be no reversal.
His father was not a man who admitted his choices had been wrong.
“I have lived my entire life in the Endless Competitive Stance. Yet now I find myself unable to compete.”
Mo Yong Cheol acknowledged his own defeat in a bitter voice.
But separate from that acknowledgment, the rage that flooded his chest would not die.
“So the world has abandoned Mo Yong Cheol.”
The moment Mo Yong Cheol brought the wine bottle to his lips again.
Whoosh!
A spark flew through the air and struck the lamp, igniting its wick.
Tap!
“…Who goes there?”
Mo Yong Cheol grasped the sword beside him and spoke softly, when a man materialized from the darkness like a phantom.
“It’s me.”
“You are…”
Mo Yong Cheol’s eyes widened as he recognized the intruder’s face.
Though a burn scar marked his left cheek—one Mo Yong Cheol had never seen before—it was unmistakably Mo Yong Hak.
“Brother, I trust you’ve been well?”
“Pf-heh-heh! You lived, then?”
“How could I not?”
“You’ve got nerve. A man under a Kill Order, brazenly returning to the clan.”
“I heard there was a blessing in the family today, so I came to see. Of course, for you it must be a tragedy.”
Mo Yong Hak—third son of the Moyong Clan Estate, and yet simultaneously the rumor-spreader among the Blue Gate of the Salmak—a walking contradiction of a man.
He gazed at Mo Yong Cheol with eyes that gleamed a fierce crimson, and asked:
“How does it feel?”
“…Get out.”
“Huh-huh, I know that feeling well. It’s like seeing myself from a year ago.”
“Say one more word and I’ll cut you down. Since I’ve no particular reason to arrest you now, I’m letting you live.”
“Oh ho, blood still means something to you then? Brother, you’ve changed greatly.”
Shwack!
The instant Mo Yong Hak laughed as if amused, Mo Yong Cheol drew his blade.
Silver flashed as the Swift Formless Blade tore toward Mo Yong Hak with blinding speed.
Yet Mo Yong Hak did not dodge. He simply pressed his index and thumb together.
Clink!
The formless, swift and unstoppable blade’s true form was seized by Mo Yong Hak’s fingers and rendered visible.
“…You?”
“I have my own pressing affairs.”
“Assassin Martial Arts?”
“Fortunately, your Vicious Intent remains intact. That’s reassuring.”
Mo Yong Hak smiled thinly and continued.
“Brother, won’t you join hands with me?”
“Khehehehe! Now even a bat pup dares mock me. Get out of my sight. I’ve no intention of becoming an assassin.”
“Then you mean to fade away like this?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“What if I had a way?”
“A way to what?”
As Mo Yong Cheol’s brow furrowed, Mo Yong Hak released the blade he’d been gripping and spoke.
“Baekmu Academy will open in Yi Chang soon. Since things have come to this, why not gather power from outside the clan rather than within it?”
“Tch, what’s this nonsense?”
Mo Yong Cheol let out a derisive snort.
He’d heard rumors of Baekmu Academy, of course.
But Mo Yong Hak’s thinking was half-baked.
“A kite with its string cut will only become a laughingstock if it goes there. Are you telling me to court the favor of Later Generation Disciples?”
“Huhu, that string—I’ll tie it back for you.”
“How?”
“My friends will enroll there in great numbers.”
“……What did you just say?”
“I’ll tell them to help you, brother.”
“What are you plotting?”
“Nothing much. Those in similar straits helping one another. You and I both suffered at his hands, didn’t we?”
When Mo Yong Hak’s left cheek twitched, a hideous burn scar rippled across his face like flickering flame.
“Namgung Ho Yeon.”
……
“The man who dealt you the decisive blow in your bid for the Minor Lord’s position.”
At Mo Yong Hak’s words, Mo Yong Cheol fell silent.
The words rang true.
After taking a crushing defeat from Namgung Ho Yeon at the Yongbong Conference, his fortunes had never recovered.
“He’ll come to Yi Chang too. Since he loves the spotlight, he’ll almost certainly aim for the Student Council President seat.”
“……So you want me to sell my face? Being treated like a puppet is the least of my humiliations.”
“There’s no need to put it that way. Think it through—it’s not a bad proposition. More than that, if you take my hand, I can give you the strength to exact your revenge.”
Whoosh! Whoosh-whoosh!
Mo Yong Hak raised his right palm, and a sphere of crimson flame materialized there.
It was no ordinary fire. It was a form of Heat Yang True Qi infused with internal energy.
Mo Yong Cheol gazed at the flame sphere and asked slowly.
“Where did you get that? From Salmak? Or Gucheon Sung?”
“Hehehehe.”
In response to Mo Yong Cheol’s question, Mo Yong Hak scattered the flame sphere and pointed skyward with his index finger.
“Higher than that.”
* * *
News of Baekmu Academy spread throughout Zhongyuan.
The impact rivaled the outbreak of the Nine Hundred Contending Overlords.
“Anyone who walks the path of the Martial World can enroll, regardless of status or skill level?”
“Good heavens, this is an opportunity!”
“Could even a third-rate nobody like me petition to study there?”
Baekmu Academy’s admission requirement was singular: being a practitioner of the Martial World.
There was not even an age limit. A simple principle—that learning knows no age—held sway.
In exchange, they would make graduation difficult; one could become an enrolled student easily enough, but becoming a graduate would be another matter entirely.
“What does graduation matter! I’d be satisfied just being admitted!”
“Right, receiving instruction from masters is a hundred times better than banging your head against stone alone.”
“To think I’d live to see the day I could receive teachings from the masters of the Murim Alliance and Baekga Maeng! What fortune!”
Third-rate and second-rate martial artists starved for instruction trembled with excitement.
What they sought was not some grand secret art or esoteric technique.
They merely needed a master to confirm they walked the right path.
The Way of the Martial Arts was long and treacherous; wander it alone too long, and you lose your bearings.
“Learning the basic sword forms well from even the Nine Great Sects and Ten Clans would be gain enough.”
“Son, go to Baekmu Academy. Whether you master martial arts there or forge new connections, it will serve you well.”
“Baekmu Academy, you say? Strong cultivators will gather there, won’t they? That’s excellent!”
“No age limit? It’s called an academy in name, but really it’s a new alliance the Baekga Maeng and the Martial World are building together.”
“Money’s flowing into Yi Chang! As a merchant, I can’t possibly pass up an opportunity like this.”
People with all manner of purposes began streaming into Yi Chang.
Their numbers exceeded tens of thousands.
* * *
“Well then, I’ll be going.”
“Yes, apply yourself to your studies.”
“It’s not even a real academy. Anyone can see it’s just an excuse.”
“Ho Yeon, when your father speaks of learning, he doesn’t mean martial arts. If it calls itself an academy, there must be courses in cultivation as well.”
Namgung Baek nodded and continued.
“You’ve studied the Classic of Filial Piety and the Book of Rites; next comes The Great Learning and the Doctrine of the Mean. The Doctrine especially is important. I worry about you sometimes, Ho Yeon—you tend toward extremes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The Doctrine of the Mean speaks of virtue that neither exceeds nor falls short—of maintaining an even temper without tilting toward one side……”
As Namgung Baek’s words threatened to lengthen, Ho Yeon began letting them go in one ear and out the other.
‘Tsk, the older he gets, the more he nags like Mother. I’ve caused a few incidents, but is it really that bad?’
―Child, look back at your deeds. A few? Wherever you’ve gone, you’ve dragged groundless turmoil in your wake.
‘How is that my fault? This rotten world sends such things my way, that’s all.’
―A classic perpetrator’s way of thinking.
‘I’ll keep quiet then.’
While Ho Yeon exchanged pleasantries with Cheon Nae Geom, Namgung Baek’s scolding had imperceptibly shifted into concern.
“But are you truly certain? You should take at least two full companies with you……”
“I’m certain. However much of a temporary lull people call it, we’re still in wartime. Withdrawing troops isn’t wise.”
“Hmph, when you went to Hangzhou, you didn’t leave behind two hundred men.”
“That was different—we had a purpose then.”
Ho Yeon shrugged as he spoke.
“Besides, I’m not going completely alone, am I?”
“……That’s true enough.”
Namgung Baek’s gaze swept across Ho Yeon’s surroundings.
Ten presences, each faintly discernible.
One of them was so dim that even Namgung Baek, a master cultivator, would lose track of it without concentration.
“Tae Rang—look after Ho Yeon well for me.”
“I shall see to it.”
“If he looks likely to cause trouble, stop him.”
“……Understood.”
At Namgung Baek’s words, a man’s voice drifted from empty air.
He was Kotaro, though his name sounded awkward in the Eastern pronunciation, so within the clan he went by So Tae Rang.
The retinue So Tae Rang had brought numbered over a thousand men.
Namgung Baek had established a new Wind Pavilion under the Cheonil Order’s authority for their sake.
So Tae Rang, to repay that kindness, had immediately deployed every available soldier to the Moyong Clan Estate the moment he became Master of the Wind Pavilion.
‘My brother wrote that it’s been proving a great help alongside the Danli Clan Estate.’
At the same time, Namgung Cheong Gang declared he would not enroll in Baekmu Academy.
He’d expected as much.
‘They say skirmishes keep breaking out near Guhuashan. Well, there’s no better learning than real combat anyway.’
In truth, even if his brother had enrolled, there’d have been little for him to learn.
That place would become a free-for-all marketplace, not an academy at all.
“The choice is yours, of course. Though it’s not a position everyone can simply obtain if they wish.”
‘Tsk, if it weren’t for what Bang Chae told me, I wouldn’t have gone either……’
The scale and influence of those Conference fellows, as Bang Chae had explained, exceeded imagination.
Now that there was a chance they might harm the main family, he couldn’t simply stand aside.
‘Whether I become Student Council President or not is secondary—but you’ll never reach it.’
As Ho Yeon’s smile turned meaningful, Namgung Baek spoke with concern.
“Just don’t cause any incidents.”
“Of course not.”
“And don’t worry about the clan.”
Click!
Namgung Baek grasped the sword hanging at his waist and smiled brightly.
“With the Heavenly Wind Sword our son made for me, your father will guard things well.”
“……Ho Mok No made it. I only helped a little.”
“Ha! It’s all the same thing.”
The Eternal Cold Iron swords forged through Ho Mok No and Ho Yeon’s collaboration were all returned to their intended masters.
‘And the remnants stay here with me.’
As Ho Yeon felt a chill settle across his chest, Namgung Baek spoke.
“Go on now. Your mother’s waiting.”
“Yes.”
When Ho Yeon turned his head, he saw Peng So Hwa offering careful last-minute instructions toward the interior of the carriage.
“Travel safely, and look after Ho Yeon well from his side.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Our boy has far too great a fondness for sweets, which worries me. Too much can damage his teeth, so do keep him to a reasonable amount from your side…….”
“Ah, Mother. I can manage that myself.”
“If you could manage it yourself, I wouldn’t be worried about it.”
At Ho Yeon’s words, Peng So Hwa turned to look at her son.
“Don’t forget to send word once a week, and if anything happens, speak to your uncle. I’ve already told him everything.”
“……Isn’t that asking for favoritism?”
“Your uncle is a man of principle—he won’t give extra credit even to his nephew.”
“Well, I’m not concerned about grades anyway.”
“What are you saying? How can you not care about your performance when you’re going to the academy? Should Mother keep her hopes up or not?”
……
“I’m waiting for an answer.”
“Yes, well. I’ll try my best.”
“Good boy, you are.”
Rustle, rustle.
Peng So Hwa smoothed Ho Yeon’s hair affectionately.
It shone like silk, all the more lustrous for the generous olive oil she’d combed through it.
“At least I’m relieved you already have friends there. You’ll all get along, yes?”
“Yes, yes.”
After exchanging farewells for the better part of an hour, Ho Yeon boarded the carriage with a sigh.
“Sigh…… We’re only going to the next district over, and she worries this much.”
“It’s because she cares for you so dearly, Young Master. Hehe.”
Cho Seon Hyang, who had come along as both attendant and companion, laughed from the opposite seat.
Ho Yeon shrugged at that and spoke.
“There are tens of thousands of martial artists gathered in Yi Chang right now. With that level of force stationed there, what trouble could possibly arise?”
Clatter, clatter!
Rumble!
The carriage carrying Ho Yeon departed toward Yi Chang.

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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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