Namgoong the Sword Ghost - Chapter 179

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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 179. Sword Demon Watches Double Six
Henan, Zhengzhou.
“The Hundred Martial Practice has commenced, then.”
“The curtain on our counterattack has risen.”
“Heh, the Red-eyed Strategist’s crimson eyes will burn all the brighter. Truly, this is what one calls the cunning of Divine Calculation Ghost Strategy?”
“You flatter me. The opening of Baekmu Academy was my daughter’s conception.”
“And it was you who taught and supported that daughter of yours—wasn’t that my point?”
“If we’re dividing credit that way, then the greatest share belongs to you, Alliance Lord, for building all these foundations.”
“Ah, this fellow. How many times will you butter up an old man before I agree to work myself to death?”
A middle-aged man with a serene bearing and an elderly figure sitting with rigidly straight posture exchanged pleasantries.
They were Jegal Sinsan, the military strategist and one of the twin pillars of the Baekga Maeng, and Mo Yong Sang Cheon, the Baekga Maeng Alliance Lord.
Jegal Sinsan took a sip of tea and opened his mouth.
“The disciples are scattered across Zhongyuan—Yunnan, Anhui, Gansu, Shandong, Hunan, and beyond—engaging in friendly competition.”
“Heh, the passion of youth is always a sight to behold.”
“The Gwangpung Unit will clash with the Blood Sky, the Nakjeon Unit with the Saber Sky, the Shammu Unit with the Dominating Sky, the Hojungcheon Unit with the Sword Sky, the Cheonbong Unit with the Green Sky, and the Soongmu Unit with the Light Sky.”
“For Gucheon Sung, this must be a dilemma. These aren’t mere Later Generation Disciples—they’re the elite of both the Baekga Maeng and the Murim Alliance.”
“The key is that Later Generation Disciples from both alliances are appropriately mixed in. Gucheon Sung must decide whether to escalate the Gubaek Sheng Pae into a full-scale confrontation, or dismiss it as the hot blood of youth.”
Jegal Sinsan smiled softly.
The Red-eyed Strategist, Sama Hwan, had driven a wedge between the Baekga Maeng and the Murim Alliance through a Reverse Spy Plot, aiming to crush them one by one.
Yet with the opening of Baekmu Academy, the ill will accumulated between the two alliances over thirty years was dissolving at unprecedented speed.
Mo Yong Sang Cheon shook his head slowly and began to speak.
“Watching the younger generation mend the rifts of their elders truly humbles me.”
“I too was skeptical. I didn’t believe my daughter’s words—that while the initial purpose would spring from desire, they would come to recognize each other in the process.”
“The ability to transform an ideal vision into reality. She is a blessed star for both the martial world and the Hundred Martial.”
“She is still lacking.”
“Letting go of that girl is something I’ll regret for years to come. But I suppose the match simply wasn’t right.”
Mo Yong Sang Cheon regarded Jegal Sinsan with a knowing smile.
He was referring to the broken betrothal between Jegal Ahyeon and Mo Yong Cheol.
Indeed, Jegal Sinsan had made considerable concessions to the Moyong Clan as a consequence of that broken betrothal.
Yet he harbored no regrets. He had gained something far greater in Namgung Ho Yeon.
“Surely not. Your grandson’s reputation is considerable as well. The Shammu Unit, upon arriving in Guangzhou, received pledges of support from thirteen military commanders and set forth for the South Sea with a naval armada, or so I hear.”
“His choice of naval battle has but one reason—the Dominating Sky boasts no naval forces.”
“A surprise assault on Yangjiang, Wuzhou, Leizhou and beyond would leave the Dominating Sky cut off from behind, unable to mount a frontal assault. Truly a bold move worthy of your bloodline, Alliance Lord.”
“You’re making sport of me now. That isn’t boldness—it’s timidity. There’s a lack of mettle to crush the opponent’s strength head-on. Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
Mo Yong Sang Cheon clicked his tongue in harsh judgment of his own grandson.
“That boy is all husk. Pretty on the surface but hollow within.”
“From your perspective, wouldn’t everyone be hollow?”
“Not particularly. Namgung Ho Yeon—that boy is the genuine article, substance and all.”
“Well, at any rate, he intends to make the Namgung Clan the greatest under heaven.”
Recalling the bold words of Namgung Ho Yeon, Mo Yong Sang Cheon broke into a grin.
“Hehehehe! How appetizing is golden grain ripening in another man’s field. I nearly plucked it without thinking. You’ve had quite the fortune—you’ve moved next door to a bumper harvest.”
…….
“I was only jesting.”
Mo Yong Sang Cheon spoke playfully as he lifted his teacup, but Jegal Sinsan felt a sudden chill run through him and swallowed hard.
Though Mo Yong Sang Cheon now presented the visage of a doting grandfather, those who knew his younger days did not misjudge him lightly.
‘The Thirsty Sword, as he was called—a brilliant blade that toppled countless talents and stood alone in radiance. His old nature is showing.’
As Jegal Sinsan tensed, a light flashed in Mo Yong Sang Cheon’s eyes, as if gazing into the distance.
“That boy will one day ascend to where I stand. And I await that day with great anticipation.”
“Surely not. No matter how transcendent his talent, the wall is impartial to all.”
Jegal Sinsan shook his head and continued.
“I acknowledge that Namgung Ho Yeon possesses the talent of an age, but there is no guarantee he will become one of the Ten Fingers Ten Toes State of the next generation. Reaching the Thirty-Six Armies alone would be……”
“No, he will ascend. Beyond that realm where all form is mastered by the mind. Not in the next age, but in this one.”
Mo Yong Sang Cheon cut off Jegal Sinsan’s words, his lips dry as he licked them.
“What manifestation does that boy harbor in his heart, I wonder? Hehehehe, truly, I am most curious.”
“I did not expect you to hold such high regard for him.”
“This man. You hold a winning lot in your hands and yet know not its worth?”
“This may be the first time you have offered such praise since the Gamble King.”
“Hmm? Did I say such a thing?”
Mo Yong Sang Cheon asked as if hearing it for the first time, and Jegal Sinsan spoke.
“Before, when I asked which of the Three Sovereigns Five Emperors Twelve Kings was the most troublesome, you said you had no wish to fight the Gamble King.”
“Ah, you mean that.”
Mo Yong Sang Cheon chuckled and spoke.
“They’re all troublesome in their own way, but there are some I’d particularly rather not meet. Like the Sword Emperor, who cuts what cannot be cut, or the Poison King, who wields Heart Poison. But the Gamble King isn’t particularly difficult to deal with.”
“Then why did you say you didn’t wish to fight the Gamble King?”
“I have no interest in an extinguished flame.”
Mo Yong Sang Cheon spoke with cold mockery.
“A gambler with nothing left to lose and nothing left to gain—how tedious could he be?”
* * *
The Hot Spring District, gateway to Huangshan.
It was a city that never slept, teeming with countless entertainment establishments for the refined travelers who came to visit Huangshan, that celebrated mountain of the realm.
In a gambling house called the Cheongeum Pavilion, Dice Throwing Gambling was in full swing.
Dice Throwing Gambling was a wagering game where two dice were placed in a cup, shaken, and players bet on Odd-Even, Upper-Middle-Lower, or Exact Match.
Clink-clink!
“Come now, a fresh round has begun! Place your wagers! Odd-Even on the left, Upper-Middle-Lower in the center, Exact Match on the right!”
Myeong Chil, a dice handler employed by the Cheongeum Pavilion, rattled a brass cup on the table with enthusiasm and called out.
Inside the brass cup, two cubic dice clacked against each other, stirring the anxiety of the gamblers.
Four people sat at the table where Dice Throwing Gambling unfolded.
Among them, a broad-shouldered man with a confident expression wore a large sword slung across his back, giving him a threatening appearance.
“Odd!”
Clink!
The man tossed a silver coin into the left bowl and shouted; beside him, a woman with heavy cosmetics gasped in admiration.
“My! How bold of you!”
“Heh-heh-heh! A fortune teller told me my luck is good today. Care to follow my lead?”
“Oh, I’m not brave-hearted like the great swordsman. I’ll take the Middle.”
Clink!
The woman with heavy cosmetics tossed a silver coin into the center bowl.
‘Ah, the man on the right is a vagrant warrior, and the woman is a retired courtesan.’
Myeong Chil identified their professions just by watching where they placed their bets.
It was a sort of ritual for vagrant warriors who’d just completed a job to come to the gambling house and wager on odd numbers.
Hell’s gate has two doors, so the superstition went—by betting on odd numbers, which symbolize one of those doors, they celebrated their survival.
‘Odd-Even pays out 1.9x in both directions. Fifty-fifty odds. But Upper-Middle-Lower each has different payouts.’
Upper pays 2.5x, Middle pays 1.7x, and Lower pays three times your wager.
The reason the payouts differ is that when two dice sum to 1 to 4, it’s Lower; 5 to 8 is Middle; 9 to 12 is Upper.
Middle appears most frequently and Lower least, so the payouts vary according to probability.
‘She bet on Middle, which has the lowest payout but over fifty percent odds? Safety-conscious temperament. The fact that she’s covered wrinkles with heavy makeup means she’s a retired courtesan scraping by who came to the gambling house out of desperation.’
Myeong Chil, who enjoyed identifying customers’ professions, turned his gaze to the next bettor.
He was a man dressed entirely in a Raincoat and wearing a Bamboo Hat.
Clink!
“Lower.”
“Oh!”
“My goodness!”
The man placed his bet in a bright, cheerful voice, and both the vagrant warrior and the retired courtesan’s eyes widened.
What the Bamboo Hat Man had tossed was no silver coin—it was a gold coin.
‘Gold on the lowest probability outcome? This is obvious. A rich young master visiting the gambling house for the first time today.’
Myeong Chil’s grin widened at the arrival of such easy prey.
His gaze then shifted to the middle-aged man seated farthest to the left.
“Double Six.”
Clink! Clink! Clink!
The middle-aged man wagered a silver coin each into all three bowls—Odd-Even, Upper-Middle-Lower, and Exact Match.
Double Six meant six twice, totaling twelve.
In other words, the middle-aged man had bet on Even in Odd-Even, Upper in Upper-Middle-Lower, and twelve in Exact Match.
‘A madman’s gamble. Exact Match requires guessing the dice sum precisely for five times your wager. Betting on Double-Double within that pays ten times. Double Six especially—with only two percent odds—pays thirty times. The ultimate extreme wager.’
Myeong Chil regarded the middle-aged man with a tired expression.
He recognized that anyone capable of such reckless betting would likely take their own life soon.
‘If you’re going to die, please do it outside. Don’t collapse here and make a mess for me.’
Myeong Chil offered this silent plea to the middle-aged man, then shook the cup vigorously.
Clink-clink!
“Now! The numbers are revealed!”
Whoosh!
Myeong Chil lifted the cup.
Every eye in the room snapped to the dice.
The white bones carved from pig—etched with identical numbers on each face—glinted under the lamp.
Six. Six.
“Double… Double Six?!”
“This is insane!”
“Ahhhhh!”
“Huh?”
Myeong Chil and the Vagrant Warrior went pale; the Retired Courtesan moaned as her money vanished; the Bamboo Hat Man’s expression shifted to something like intrigue.
“Double Six—he hit it! And Odd-Even and Upper-Middle-Lower too, all of it!”
Despite Myeong Chil’s shout, the Middle-aged Old Man—the sole winner at this table—merely stared at the dice without the faintest flicker of emotion crossing his face.
“Double Six? This is crazy…”
“Strange. I’ve never seen that before.”
“That one’s blessed today!”
Word of the Double Six victory rippled through the gambling house, drawing every gaze to the Dice Throwing Gambling table.
Myeong Chil’s eyes met those of the portly Gambling House Master stationed in the corner.
‘Hand it over.’
‘Yes.’
Their silent exchange complete, Myeong Chil produced Silver Coins from his sleeve and began distributing the winnings to the Middle-aged Old Man.
Clink-clink! Clink-clink!
The gamblers—Vagrant Warrior and Retired Courtesan among them—had fixed their attention on the heap of Silver Coins mounting like a small hill when the Middle-aged Old Man spoke.
“Double Six.”
“Yes, sir—you’ve hit Double Six. Ha, what remarkable luck you have today.”
“Double Six.”
“Now, now, impatient, are we? Just wait a moment. I’m counting the Silver Coins now, after all.”
“No need to count.”
“…Pardon?”
Myeong Chil looked up from his task as the Middle-aged Old Man gestured toward the dice.
“That’s all of it. Bet it all on Double Six again.”
“…!”
“…!”
“…!”
“…”

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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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