Namgoong the Sword Ghost - Chapter 85

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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 85. The Sword Demon Unleashes Heaven Thunder
For days, certain names dominated every conversation in the martial grounds.
“Namgung Cheong Gang. He was overshadowed by Seonjeon Noe’s reputation, but he was a monster too.”
“Ah, the Emperor Sword Form, you mean? A truly astonishing technique.”
“The younger brother restored the Cheonroe Jewang Singong, and the older brother the Emperor Sword Form. Truly, aren’t they an impossible pair of brothers?”
“That’s not all. Namgung Sang Ah displayed her prowess as well, I hear.”
“The Immortal Dance Flower, one of the Five Flowers of Murim? Her graceful movements were as elegant as a swallow’s flight—beautiful as a celestial dance.”
Namgung Ho Yeon, the Soso Jongsa who gives enlightenment through his opponent’s strengths.
Namgung Cheong Gang, whose name is now etched deep in people’s minds alongside the Emperor Sword Form.
Namgung Sang Ah, with her blunt temperament and sharp beauty, and martial prowess to match—enough to set every man’s heart racing.
“Really now. When the Namgung Clan’s siblings are this talented, who dares say the Ten Great Families’ position is shaky?”
“Jealousy and envy, what else? Namgung is such a prestigious house—how could it ever crumble?”
“I hear Seonjeon Noe even has exceptional business acumen. You know that trading enterprise? Word is it’s Namgung Ho Yeon’s creation.”
“What? Good heavens! Even heaven shows partiality. How could one person be blessed with all these gifts?”
At this Yongbong Conference, people’s eyes were fixed on the Namgung Clan, whose prominence had become so marked.
And at last, the day of the Round of Sixteen arrived.
* * *
Crash!
With a sound that shook heaven and earth, Hwang Bo Pil Seong’s massive frame was hurled from the Martial Arena like a stone from a sling.
A strangled cry escaped him.
The monk in yellow robes, watching Hwang Bo Pil Seong with eyes rolled back and consciousness fled, intoned a sutra.
“Amitabha Buddha.”
Ho Yeon murmured as he observed the chanting monk with folded hands.
“Now there’s a character.”
“Beom Seok, the Arhat of Awakened Foolishness. The youngest of the Eighteen Arhats. I’m told he’s the youngest arhat in three hundred years.”
The one answering Ho Yeon was a man of compact stature with a round build.
His white Taoist robe was embroidered with blue clouds.
“And you provoked such a person by telling him to go back to the monastery and do alms bowl offerings since authority belonged to you? You deserved that thrashing.”
“Just like you did.”
A slight cough escaped him.
Gwang Myeong, the fourth-ranked disciple of Kunlun Sect, let out an embarrassed harrumph at Ho Yeon’s words.
He was the opponent Ho Yeon had faced in the Round of Thirty-Two, and upon meeting, he had glared with such hatred and declared:
“I despise you! Whatever you do, the young ladies think you’re adorable! So why do I get called pathetic even when I try my best? Sob!”
Then he unleashed Kunlun Sect’s signature technique, the Cloud Dragon Eight Forms, thrashing about in empty air.
Ho Yeon leaped up using Leaving Step and rained down strikes with a Hand Knife until the man’s manners improved.
“A slight cough. I was the righteous apostle punishing you for monopolizing the young ladies’ affections.”
“You mean the Way of Evil. You’re a Taoist priest—why are you so obsessed with women?”
“Put yourself in my position!”
Gwang Myeong shouted in protest at Ho Yeon’s words.
“I was picked up as an infant by my master and locked away in distant Kunlun Mountain at Cheong Hae! There’s literally nothing there—I didn’t even see a woman’s hem until I was twenty-five!”
“Shut up, will you?”
“I threw such a tantrum saying I’d die if I didn’t attend the Yongbong Conference that I finally got down from the mountain—and now people don’t care about me just because I’m short and a bit round! If you look closely, I’m cute too!”
“What the….”
“Did I ask to hold anyone’s hand? I just wanted someone to listen to my stories. Is hearing about the goats bred at Kunlun Sect having kids really that boring?”
“You’re insane.”
Ho Yeon ignored the ranting Gwang Myeong and spoke to Hye Il, who was munching on vegetables.
“Hey, aren’t you managing your Taoist priests properly? Tell that one to stop chirping.”
“Huh? Munch, munch. Why would Gwang Myeong be a talkative bird?”
Hye Il tilted his head at Ho Yeon’s words.
He understood why he himself was one—he had long arms.
But why would Gwang Myeong be a talkative bird?
“Not a talkative bird—an obsessed-with-women bird. That’s what I meant.”
“Ah?”
“Not ‘Ah?’… Sigh, I’m losing my mind.”
Ho Yeon shook his head with a weary exhale.
Hye Il in the Round of 128.
Un Am in the Round of 64.
Gwang Myeong in the Round of 32.
Mudang Sect, Huashan Sect, Kunlun Sect—all of them belonged to the Way Sect, and every Taoist priest he’d met was equally strange.
‘This one’s a talkative bird, Un Am keeps asking “Do you understand the Way of the Sword?” like it’s all he knows, and this one’s a Taoist obsessed with women? The Way of Murim has fallen to ruin.’
He couldn’t fathom why these mad dogs kept dogging his steps.
‘Did I miscalculate? I was trying to use the Soso Jongsa’s fame to elevate the Namgung name, but now these strange bastards won’t stop hounding me.’
Namgung Ho Yeon found himself regretting that he hadn’t simply pushed through with his original plan to crush them outright.
Then.
“Ah, there he is.”
“Hmm?”
At Hye Il’s murmur from beside him, Ho Yeon turned his gaze to the Martial Arena.
There stood Beom Seok, one of the Eighteen Arhats, watching him with placid eyes.
…….
…….
In that brief span of time, their eyes spoke to each other.
Beom Seok offered a subtle bow and descended from the Martial Arena.
“We’ll meet in the finals, then.”
“Beom Seok? The Sect Leader said something similar.”
“The Sect Leader? You mean Baek Cheon?”
“That’s right.”
As Ho Yeon showed interest, Hye Il began explaining eagerly.
“Beom Seok is thirty-five, so he’s hardly what you’d call a later generation disciple.”
“Then why did he enter the Yongbong Conference? Does he have such a burning desire for fame?”
“No, if anything, Beom Seok probably resents this whole situation—the same way Baek Cheon did five years ago.”
“Baek Cheon?”
“The last Yongbong Conference champion. Afterward, he became a disciple of the Mudang Sect’s master.”
Hye Il set down his chopsticks and continued in a hushed tone.
“According to the Sect Leader, if a champion from the Baekga Maeng were to emerge, it would be a problem—so each sect takes turns sending an exceptional master outside the normal ranks.”
“Ah.”
“This time that exceptional master is Beom Seok. Even though he’s the youngest of the Eighteen Arhats, the fact that he’s mixed in among the later generation disciples must sit poorly with him.”
“So that was his chance to work out his frustrations—flattening Hwang Bo Pil Seong like that? Venting his anger?”
―Puhaha! You’re a real hothead, aren’t you? I like your style! Let’s be friends!
Hearing the Black Long Sword’s cry, Ho Yeon genuinely began to worry about the future of martial arts in the Land of White.
Just then, the Martial Arena was cleared and reset, and Gu Il Bi, the White Tiger Deputy Commander, bellowed:
“Next match! Namgung Clan’s Namgung Ho Yeon versus Moyong Clan’s Mo Yong Cheol!”
* * *
“Patriarch……”
From the Martial Arena, Mo Yong Cheol gazed up at the seat of honor.
The Sword Emperor, Mo Yong Sang Cheon.
A great martial master so formidable that it was almost impossible to address him as grandfather.
Yet the old patriarch’s eyes were fixed not on his grandson, but on Namgung Ho Yeon climbing up on the opposite side.
Crack!
The grinding of Mo Yong Cheol’s teeth brought back a shocking memory from two years prior.
“If you seek medicinal aid, I would procure a Grand Restoration Pill for you. If you seek instruction, I shall examine your sword personally. What say you?”
Mo Yong Cheol could not believe his ears when he heard his grandfather’s words.
The Sword Emperor Mo Yong Sang Cheon was so indifferent that he had never taken a disciple from among his own family.
Yet that same man now offered his personal instruction to Namgung Ho Yeon.
‘And you refused him. So arrogant.’
Mo Yong Cheol’s cold eyes fixed on the Black Long Sword at Ho Yeon’s waist.
That blade, which always hung at his grandfather’s side—now carried by another.
‘And Jegal Ahyeon. Looking back, she was a woman I should never have let slip away.’
At first, he’d thought her a woman discarded and sold by the Jegal Clan, but that was wrong.
The fact that Jegal Shin San, the Baekga Maeng’s supreme military strategist, had summoned her to serve as his deputy strategist proved her capability.
She would have been endlessly useful at his side, yet she chose Namgung Ho Yeon.
‘This long-festering hatred between us. I’ll sever it here.’
A sinister smile crossed Mo Yong Cheol’s lips.
He had witnessed Namgung Ho Yeon’s terrible martial prowess two years ago, but he himself had not been idle since then.
‘A month ago, I awakened Ten Strands. Only a handful of steps remain before Supreme Peak.’
If he obtained the Dragon title at this Yongbong Conference, Mo Yong Cheol was confident he could surpass Mo Yong Hu in the competition to become the clan’s young master.
“Snake Scorpion. It’s been too long.”
Ho Yeon stepped before Mo Yong Cheol and offered a greeting.
Mo Yong Cheol answered with a thin smile.
“And aren’t you the Grim Reaper?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t you feel any responsibility for my dear brother’s death?”
“…….”
At Mo Yong Cheol’s words, Namgung Ho Yeon’s expression hardened.
Seeing this, Mo Yong Cheol continued.
“A year and a half ago, my brother Mo Yong Yul died after leaving the Namgung Clan. His boat capsized in the fierce currents of the Yangtze River, and all the boatmen were killed.”
“…….”
“Why did you cast him out? It would’ve been better to keep him with you.”
“……Yul wanted to leave of his own accord.”
“Ha, so you sent him off without even an escort? The Namgung Clan truly is a cold place.”
At Mo Yong Cheol’s words, Namgung Ho Yeon’s eyes dimmed.
Of course, they had sent an escort with him.
But to cross the rapids near Nanjing in Gangseo Province, they had to transfer to a smaller boat.
And the moment Mo Yong Yul boarded, the boat suddenly capsized.
“I-I’m sorry, young master! Even though I was there… Sob!”
The escort who had gone with him back then still couldn’t meet his eyes whenever they encountered each other.
“So all that pretense of caring for a brother amounted to nothing in the end.”
“…….”
“I will settle my brother’s grievance here!”
At Mo Yong Cheol’s cry, whispers began to spread around the Martial Arena.
“What’s he saying?”
“His brother’s grievance?”
“Is he saying Namgung Ho Yeon caused his brother’s death?”
But despite the commotion around them, Namgung Ho Yeon’s gaze remained fixed on Mo Yong Cheol.
After a long silence, Ho Yeon spoke.
“Do you want to become a Dragon that badly?”
“……What?”
“Win just this match and you’re in the Quarterfinals. The Dragon title is yours to claim.”
“…….”
“That’s why you’re resorting to this Provocation Strategy with such desperation. Isn’t that right?”
At Ho Yeon’s words, Mo Yong Cheol fell silent.
Because Ho Yeon had read his intention perfectly.
“How pathetic.”
Ho Yeon let out a quiet laugh and continued, glancing around the Martial Arena.
“But this works out well. I was starting to think it was time to show it anyway.”
“Show what?”
Rumble! Crack!
Just as Mo Yong Cheol furrowed his brow.
Thunder sound and lightning crack erupted from nowhere.
Yet the sky was cloudless and clear, the weather fine with no rain.
This was the sound of Thunder First Lightning After repeating from Ho Yeon’s meridian points.
Soon, brilliant white thunder light burst forth across Ho Yeon’s entire body.
Crackle! Crackle-crack!
Ho Yeon, cloaked in Heaven Thunder Qi like a garment, looked so otherworldly that he seemed not of the human world.
His eyes, dyed white, glowed with the majesty of a Thunder God descended from heaven, and his hair rippled as his hairpin snapped, shining like a halo of enlightenment.
“Ooooooh!”
“It’s finally here!”
“The Cheonroe Jewang Singong.”
“The Seonjeon Noe Ah!”
As Thunder Qi—rarely seen even in the Central Plains—made its appearance, the crowd forgot all their previous conversation and erupted in frenzy.
The Ultimate Power that seemed impossible for humans to wield made everyone’s hearts reverent simply by witnessing it.
‘So it comes.’
But Mo Yong Cheol was not startled, having witnessed this form before.
Whoosh!
He drew his blade swiftly and grasped the stance of the Chasing Soul Quick Saber, the weapon that had earned him the epithet “Quick Saber Formless.”
“Survive three forms and the victory is yours.”
Flash!
Ho Yeon’s form moved faster than his words.
A movement like lightning fracturing—the Shaking Step.
In the blink of an eye, Ho Yeon drove toward Mo Yong Cheol’s right side and extended his palm with a strike of extreme speed.
Boom!
“Kugh!”
Clang!
Mo Yong Cheol twisted his blade just in time to receive the Heaven Thunder Strike on the flat of his sword, his entire frame shaking with the impact, teeth gritted hard.
But inside, Mo Yong Cheol was laughing.
‘His movements are too large! He pretended otherwise, but the Provocation Strategy shook his mind—that’s proof!’
Rumble! Bang!
Ho Yeon followed with a palm strike, his fingers splayed wide like an open fan.
Between those spread fingers, lightning claws began pouring out like a storm.
Crack-crack-crack!
The Thunder Shock Wave swept through a radius of several feet, blooming a brilliant Thunder Flower across the Martial Arena.
‘An opening!’
Snap!
But Mo Yong Cheol, recognizing that Ho Yeon’s stance had crumbled between the first and second strikes, unleashed his own counter.
He immediately condensed every trace of his internal energy that had been woven into his Body Protection Qi, concentrating it all into a single blade strike.
Whisper!
White Ten Strands of qi spiraled up along his blade like a dragon ascending, and Mo Yong Cheol surged forward with pursuit-like speed.
Step!
Appearing before Ho Yeon, Mo Yong Cheol delivered the Ghost Flash—a strike against his unbalanced opponent.
Screech!
‘I’ve won!’
That was when Mo Yong Cheol was lost in certainty.
“You’re wrong. You should have focused on defense.”
Boom!
Ho Yeon swatted at empty air as if batting away a fly—a meaningless gesture.
Mo Yong Cheol, believing it was a final desperate flail, drove his blade down with everything he had.
But then, from within the Thunder Cloud that flickered with Thunder Light, a mysterious Thunder Palm erupted.
It descended like a single palm strike of Buddha reaching across both the mortal realm and infinity, striking Mo Yong Cheol’s back directly.
Heaven Thunder Three Palms Third Form.
Thunder Shadow Instant.
Boom!
Crackling!
“Aaaaaaagh!”
Direct hit by the Thunder Shadow Instant, Mo Yong Cheol shrieked in agony as his vision flashed white.
Every drop of blood in his body seemed to boil; his bones felt as though they were melting.
In that white world where nothing could be seen, Ho Yeon’s voice reached him.
“I was suffocating from playing the nice guy. At least you were a worthy match.”
“Kgh—!”
“This much would be called total annihilation, wouldn’t it? Were you ever going to become a Dragon?”
“Khrrgh…….”
Mo Yong Cheol’s vision darkened, and as Ho Yeon’s whisper faded, his consciousness broke.
“And Yul isn’t your younger brother. He’s mine.”
Thud!
Mo Yong Cheol collapsed spread-eagle, trembling and convulsing.
Most of the crowd didn’t even understand what had happened.
White lightning flashed once, and Mo Yong Cheol fell.
“Woooooaaaaaah!”
“Truly, the Thunder God has returned!”
“The Emperor Sword Form combined with the Cheonroe Jewang Singong—my eyes are blessed!”
The Martial Arena erupted in cheers.
But Ho Yeon’s expression was not bright.
He looked up at the sky, which was a clear blue.
Like someone’s eyes.
“Damn it.”

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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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