Namgoong the Sword Ghost - Chapter 214

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

Episode 214. The Sword-Ghost’s Measure
Eun Ro Jeong.
True to its name—the Garden of Clear Dew—it was a modest yet exquisite building.
This space had been granted as a courtesy to Yang Seon Hee, who had become the wife of Namgung Cheong Gang, the secondary household master.
Yang Seon Hee loved Literati Painting and preferred quiet, peaceful surroundings.
Though she called it a mere hobby, her skill was remarkable—people came regularly from Beijing to purchase her works.
“My, is this a gift for the new little one?”
“Yes, Mother.”
Peng So Hwa marveled at the Literati Painting Yang Seon Hee had presented.
Within the painting, winter magnolias bloomed before Ok Ran Heon, Peng So Hwa’s residence, while a clear moon and auspicious clouds were rendered mysteriously through the simple rhythm of brush and the subtle gradations of ink.
The crowning element was a poem titled Magnolia Ode inscribed on the left side of the painting.
The magnolia pavilion breathes fragrant air,
Perfume drifts through Ok Ran Heon’s grace.
In fragrant groves, spring’s spirit deepens,
And the tender shoots proclaim the warming season.
White petals hold their noble bearing,
Transcending frost through steadfast virtue.
Pure fragrance mirrors the moon’s visage,
Radiant in silver light’s embrace.
Refined elegance spreads a thousand leagues,
Its grace and charm carried far and wide.
The household’s renown gains auspicious splendor,
Its glory brightened by blessings untold.
The virtue’s grace flows on eternally,
Its blessings flowing without end.
The poem overflowed with praise for the magnolia.
And the magnolia it celebrated symbolized none other than Peng So Hwa, the mistress of Ok Ran Heon.
“How… how is it?”
Yang Seon Hee asked gently, studying Peng So Hwa’s silent expression.
“… Ah.”
“Mother!”
“Mom!”
“Mother!”
When Peng So Hwa’s eyes glistened with sudden tears, three women cried out in alarm.
They were Yang Seon Hee, Namgung Sang A, and Jegal Ahyeon.
“It’s all right, truly. I was simply overwhelmed and made a spectacle of myself.”
Peng So Hwa wiped her tears and smiled warmly when she saw the concern in three pairs of eyes.
“Once, your father and I had only each other for comfort, but now my lovely daughters worry over me.”
“You scared us, Mom!”
“Look at this—adding honor to the family name. Is there any greater compliment?”
“It’s the truth.”
Namgung Sang A continued, folding her arms.
“Without you, would the household have run smoothly? Father would have worked himself to death in that study, day and night.”
“… That’s true. If not for you, Mother, I would never have met my husband.”
“Namgung Ho Yeon doesn’t say much either, but he relies on you greatly, Mother.”
At the words of Namgung Sang A, Yang Seon Hee, and Jegal Ahyeon, Peng So Hwa’s face bloomed with joy.
“I’m grateful to you all. Seon Hee, I’ll treasure this.”
“Of course, Mother.”
Yang Seon Hee, her expression relieved, turned to address Namgung Sang A and Jegal Ahyeon.
“I have something for you two as well.”
“Really? Truly?”
“For me as well?”
As they gazed in delighted surprise, Yang Seon Hee’s cheeks flushed as she handed each of them a Literati Painting.
“Of course. A modest gift, but this…”
Upon receiving the Literati Paintings, Namgung Sang A and Jegal Ahyeon eagerly examined them.
The Literati Painting that Namgung Sang A received was titled Butterfly Dance Flow—a work filled with butterflies rendered in image and verse.
The Literati Painting that Jegal Ahyeon received was titled Fragrant Sandalwood Endures—a composition depicting the sprawling branches of a fragrant sandalwood tree in both painting and poem.
“Ah…!”
“Oh…!”
Namgung Sang A, receiving a Literati Painting as a gift for the first time, nearly bounded with joy.
Jegal Ahyeon, who possessed deep expertise in poetry, calligraphy, and painting, marveled at Yang Seon Hee’s skill, which exceeded all expectations.
“I wanted to thank you for everything, but I didn’t know what to give you.”
Yang Seon Hee said.
Namgung Sang A was her age-mate, and over the past year had soothed her anxieties like a true friend.
Jegal Ahyeon was several years younger, but she was talented enough to have driven Docheon out of Qingyang and into Gangseong.
She wanted to express her gratitude to both of them, but since they were daughters of great houses who had grown up without want, choosing a gift felt impossibly difficult.
“So I made this small token of skill…….”
“Small token? I love it so much! Our new sister is a genius!”
“You’re too kind. Your brushwork truly rivals that of the Lady of Flowery Talent.”
“Th-thank you.”
At their fervent praise, Yang Seon Hee twisted her body shyly.
Her guileless reaction was a breath of fresh air to the martial world women Namgung Sang A and Jegal Ahyeon, and smiles bloomed at the corners of their mouths.
“Hehe, if you ever need help, just say so. I’ll lend you a hand.”
“Sang A, the proper saying is to roll up your sleeves, not open your arms.”
“Oh, Mother! I was trying to show sisterly dignity!”
“That’s exactly why you can’t find a husband—such carelessness.”
“I’m not ‘can’t’—I’m ‘won’t!’ I won’t marry until I’ve seen every corner of Zhongyuan!”
“Then you’ll grow old as a spinster and die.”
“Hahahaha.”
“Hehehehe.”
At the exchange between Namgung Sang A and Peng So Hwa, Yang Seon Hee and Jegal Ahyeon laughed together.
Then, as if remembering something, Yang Seon Hee posed a question to Jegal Ahyeon.
“Oh, Miss Jegal. May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Could you tell me about Namgung Ho Yeon?”
“I beg your pardon?”
At the unexpected question, Ahyeon blinked, and Yang Seon Hee continued.
“I’d like to give a Literati Painting to him as well, but I can’t seem to get a sense of what kind of person he is.”
“Ah…….”
Ahyeon nodded understandingly at Yang Seon Hee’s troubled expression.
‘Truly, Ho Yeon’s words and actions differ as vastly as mountains and seas.’
To infer his true heart from just one or two meetings would be a challenge even for a fortune-teller.
She herself would have misunderstood him if not for the Simseogamhwa insight she possessed.
Ahyeon spoke with conviction.
“Ho Yeon is a warm person.”
“Warm?”
“If I were to describe him in color, I’d say orange.”
“Orange.”
As Yang Seon Hee nodded, Namgung Sang A added her thoughts.
“He does love orange. He’s absolutely mad for tangerine candy.”
“Tangerine candy?”
“These days he’s always chewing on some kind of chewing gum. It doesn’t look particularly refined, if you ask me.”
“Chewing gum?”
As Yang Seon Hee tilted her head, Peng So Hwa spoke up.
“Ho Yeon likes having his hair combed, and yet he doesn’t.”
“Pardon?”
“When you comb it for him, he finds it bothersome. But if you don’t, he feels hurt.”
“…….”
Yang Seon Hee fell silent.
‘That’s exactly like…… a street cat, isn’t it?’
From the descriptions of the three women, a scene formed in Yang Seon Hee’s mind.
On a lazy afternoon, an orange Ho Yeon cat lay draped across a stone wall, basking in the sun, lazily licking at sweets.
When people thought his appearance cute and reached out to pet him, he’d enjoy it for a moment before suddenly hissing—a fickle orange Ho Yeon cat.
“One undeniable fact is that he’s an incorrigible troublemaker.”
“Sigh, I worry about what kind of mischief he’s getting into now. I just hope he hasn’t done anything dangerous…….”
“Hehe, don’t worry. When Ho Yeon causes trouble, it’s always the other person you need to be concerned about.”
At the three women’s continued exchange, the imaginary orange Ho Yeon cat in Yang Seon Hee’s mind let out a crooked smile and yowled.
―Mrrrow!
* * *
“Achoo!”
“Have you caught a cold?”
“Sniff—no? My nose just feels itchy.”
“Be careful. It’s winter, after all.”
At Namgung Cheong Gang’s concern, Ho Yeon shrugged and replied.
“Brother, masters of the Flowery Realm have the Life-Death Gate fully opened, so Qi circulates throughout their entire body unconsciously. In short, they’re unaffected by cold and heat.”
“You’re something else.”
Cheong Gang let out a soft laugh.
Though Ho Yeon had become a Realm-Breaker, he still appeared to his brother as the youngest—prone to minor ailments.
But Ho Yeon was the Heavenly Thunder Divine General.
Having grown into a true One Star of the Thousand Absolute Hundred Eight Saints.
“Are you ready?”
At Ho Yeon’s question, Cheong Gang’s expression turned serious and he nodded.
“Yes, take a look.”
“Right.”
Cheong Gang had drawn the Emperor’s Sword, and from the blade’s surface, thin strands had been pulled free like a spider’s web, forming a single plane.
Whoosh!
Hum!
‘Qi Blade. I expected as much, but it’s truly fast. Warriors really do grow through war, it seems.’
Ho Yeon examined Cheong Gang’s Qi Blade while harboring such thoughts.
His Qi Blade, unlike ordinary ones, appeared both smooth and soft.
Yet beneath that exterior, the very essence it contained overflowed with imperial majesty.
Thrummmmm!
‘I felt it from the moment he pulled out the silken Qi, but the way it’s done—like a bear—is incredibly delicate, isn’t it?’
Compared to the Yongbong Conference, the Qi Silk that Cheong Gang had drawn out was as fine as nearly 120 counts, impossibly thin.
At 120 counts, it was finer than human hair—something Ho Yeon himself could not achieve.
‘That’s talent. Born talent.’
It was an art impossible without extraordinary concentration and finely honed control.
Only possible for someone like Namgung Cheong Gang, whose very nature was forbearance and rigorous self-refinement—this drawing out of silk.
‘Generally, the finer the thread count, the lower the density. That’s what tribute silk is.’
Naturally, if the threads are thin and spaced loosely, the weave becomes sparse.
But what if the threads were thin yet densely packed?
“I’ve named it the Emperor’s Silk. How does it seem?”
“The silk of an emperor….”
Ho Yeon nodded.
Though only warp threads, Ho Yeon could read infinite possibilities within that Qi Blade.
‘It’s so difficult to pull off that way, but if it were possible, it would create the most ideal Qi Rampart.’
To arrange such thin threads so densely—remarkable.
If this were actual fabric, the high production cost and lengthy manufacturing time would make it a luxury cloth worthy of being presented to a king alone.
“It fits well. Emperor’s Silk. Far superior to any ordinary rampart technique.”
“Heh, even judging by my own standard, it was a rather apt naming.”
“But the preparation time is too long. If you try to pull it out that thin and dense in actual combat, you’ll end up taking a blind strike.”
“It’s gradually improving. It demands immense concentration, but that’s a field I’m confident in.”
“Hmm, looks like it.”
“But… for now, half a breath is my limit.”
Whoosh!
Cheong Gang dispersed the Emperor’s Qi Blade and sheathed his sword.
Click!
“How is it? At this level, I don’t fall short compared to Peng Gu Pae, do I?”
Cheong Gang spoke with a competitive smile, and Ho Yeon shrugged in reply.
“It’s hard to say for certain. The two of you are quite different in nature.”
Unlike Cheong Gang, Peng Gu Pae pulled out a Qi Blade with a low thread count and low density—brutally crude.
He adhered to a combat style of placing thick, coarse strands sparsely and overwhelming through sheer force.
It was a method made possible by the Peng family’s distinctive Divine Strength as foundation.
‘What I saw in Grandfather was perhaps the ultimate form of that.’
Ho Yeon recalled Peng Hwan, who had displayed the pinnacle of crude, simple, overwhelming power, and shook his head.
“I see. I really should go to the Baekmu Academy. Combat with the strong is what drives one’s growth.”
Cheong Gang’s resolve burned bright.
“Father and my younger brother are both Realm-Breakers—I can’t afford to stagnate.”
“…Brother, you’re already more than fast enough?”
“You needn’t comfort your brother. Unlike you, I’m dull of wit, so I’ll have to push myself harder, even if it means sleeping less.”
“…….”
Ho Yeon’s lips twitched.
‘This damned genius bastard. Here I am clawing my way up a staircase with blood and sweat, and he’s vaulting whole flights at a time.…….’
What? A dullard?
Is he mocking me right now?
If he weren’t my brother, I’d have slugged him.
‘Ugh, this is why I hate geniuses. Should’ve just left him alone to practice the Changgung Defiant Sword Method.’
Ho Yeon fished a stick of chewing gum from his pocket and popped it in his mouth to soothe the bitter taste.
“Smack, smack.”
Cheong Gang, watching this, furrowed his brow and spoke to his younger brother.
“Ho Yeon, that confection of yours can hardly be called dignified fare, no matter how one looks at it.”
“Why?”
“Chewing while you walk. It’s hardly a becoming sight.”
“Hmph, what others think.”
“It’s precisely because I’m not others that I’m saying this. Now spit it out.”
“I won’t.”
It was just as Ho Yeon and his brother were bickering that it happened.
Thud-thud-thud!
“Gasp! Gasp! Master Ho Yeon, sir!”
“Hm?”
A martial artist from Cheon I Tang came sprinting over, calling out to Ho Yeon.
“Huff, huff! The Anhui Provincial Governor has just arrived at Changgung Pavilion!”
“The Provincial Governor? What’s he after?”
“He’s looking for you most urgently!”
“For me?”
As Ho Yeon tilted his head in confusion, the Cheon I Tang martial artist cried out.
“More precisely, he’s looking for the Ho Eun Secret Agent! He’s brought an Imperial Edict from His Majesty the Emperor!”
“……!”
“……!”

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