Namgoong the Sword Ghost - Chapter 89

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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 89. The Sword Demon’s Victory
The white lightning that had adorned Jeongju City the previous night was brilliant and beautiful enough to be seen from a hundred li away.
Those who witnessed the Cheon Noe Ki erupting skyward in all directions alongside thunder and electric light spoke in unison of the Thunder God descending to earth.
And an unbelievable rumor spread rapidly from mouth to mouth.
“Have you heard? The Cruel Snake Swordsman Chu Eum has achieved Seungbyeok!”
“Seungbyeok? A realm breakthrough?!”
“The vice master of the Sipja Cheon Geom Dan, the great swordmaster Dan Li Jeok, fell by his serpentine blade, and the sword inspector of the Hyeongsan Faction, the great swordmaster Ja Song, suffered such severe internal injuries that he requires half a year of recovery.”
“My! The Heuksadan’s momentum pierces the heavens. One would need considerable fortune to hire them now.”
“The Heuksadan has been dissolved.”
“What?!”
“They were trapped in the Gaebang’s Taegu Bong Jin, and it’s said every last one of them either perished or was captured.”
“Truly, the Gaebang! They alone inherit the spirit of righteous virtue! Wait—didn’t you say Chu Eum achieved Seungbyeok? Surely the Sovereign hasn’t come to this place?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Then have the elders of the Gaebang mobilized? Or perhaps the Sword Saint or the Blade Emperor themselves?”
“Brace yourself for a shock. The one who cut down Chu Eum was a Later Generation Disciple not yet twenty years old.”
“What, what did you say? Are you having a laugh at my expense?”
“It’s the truth! They say Namgung Ho Yeon the Seonjeon Noe Ah turned Chu Eum into charred wood!”
“Preposterous?! You mean last night’s lightning wasn’t an act of heaven? So that bolt from a clear sky was real?”
The rumor swelled with flesh and exaggeration—tales spread that Namgung Ho Yeon was himself a Seungbyeok expert, or perhaps a disciple of the Blade Emperor, or perhaps in truth the Thunder God descended from the heavens.
As a result, all eyes in Jeongju City turned toward the final of the Yongbong Tournament, which had already been the focus of intense interest.
* * *
Upon the arena stage built of bluestone.
Beom Seok the Buddhist monk stood with his eyes closed, rolling a Yeom Ju between the fingers of his right hand.
“No substance, no perception, no sensation, no volitional formation, no consciousness. All phenomena are empty, not self, not eternal, not self, not joy. What is seen is form alone—therein lies the Tathagata. No ego, no person, no living being, no lifespan.”
The face of Beom Seok, who recited the Diamond Sutra, did not cease its restless twitching.
Hidden beneath the voluminous yellow robes, his hardened muscles trembled finely with barely contained excitement.
‘Alas, I still lack sufficient spiritual cultivation.’
No matter how many sutras Beom Seok recited, he could not suppress his competitive spirit.
The previous night, hearing that a great battle had erupted in the western outskirts of the city, he had rushed there at once, concerned for the innocent civilians who might be harmed.
And he had seen it.
Namgung Ho Yeon wielding a massive Gwang Geom wreathed in lightning, shattering Chu Eum’s formidable force.
‘Could I have defended against it?’
Defense—impossible.
Then evasion?
‘The Yondae Gu Pum might be attempted. But with my current training, the Fourth Grade is the limit. At that level, I could not escape the reach of that Gwang Geom the Namgung donor wielded.’
Click. Click. Click. Click.
The movement of Beom Seok’s fingers rolling the beads grew steadily faster.
Around the arena, spectators gathered thick as clouds began to murmur.
“Shouldn’t it be starting soon?”
“Why hasn’t he come?”
“Have you not heard the rumor? The Seonjeon Noe Ah has forfeited.”
“What?! That can’t be!”
“Didn’t you see all that thunder and lightning last night? He must certainly have sustained severe internal injuries.”
“I heard the same. In truth, how could the Seonjeon Noe Ah, barely eighteen years old, have defeated a Seungbyeok expert? Whatever he did, it must have taken a tremendous toll.”
“Is that so? I heard that Chu Eum was already on death’s door from the combined assault of the late great swordmaster Dan Li Jeok and the great swordmaster Ja Song?”
“Well, if that weren’t the case, there would be no explaining it.”
As the appointed time drew near without Namgung Ho Yeon appearing, people began to advance various theories and conjectures.
Then.
“Oh, ohhhhh!”
“They’ve arrived.”
“It’s the Namgung Clan!”
A commotion rose from one direction as a group dressed in blue martial robes came into view.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Whoosh!
At the confident stride of their approach, the crowd began to part and make way.
A blue flag inscribed with Changtian Namgung fluttered and billowed in the wind.
“The young man at the front—the lesser clan leader of the Namgung Clan, the Dragon-King Sword, Namgung Cheong Gang.”
“Oh my. The beauty beside him—could she be one of the Five Flowers of the Murim, the Heavenly Dance Flower?”
“Hmm. The aura of the bald elder in the rear is no trivial matter. Could that be the Unbending Sword, Elder Namgung Mu Won?”
At the head of the group, four figures walked forward.
On the right, Namgung Cheong Gang observed his surroundings with an icy gaze, while Namgung Sang Ah wore an expression of deep worry.
Behind them, an elderly man moved in escort, his muscles tensing with palpable force at every step, his sharp eyes blazing with intensity.
All eyes converged on the young man at the center of the arena.
A strikingly handsome figure moved with a weary expression.
“Seonjeon Noe Ah. So you did suffer an internal injury.”
“Tsk tsk, looks like it.”
“Ah, so he’s forfeiting?”
People saw Ho Yeon’s hollow cheeks and assumed he’d taken grave internal damage in his bout with Chu Eum.
But the truth was different.
“Ho Yeon. Are you really all right?”
“…I’m fine, I said.”
Ho Yeon wanted to scream at Namgung Sang Ah—who’d asked him roughly a hundred times already—to stop, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
“But Ho Yeon…”
Because she was scanning him from head to toe, looking as though she might burst into tears at any moment.
“Ho Yeon, let’s forfeit. It’s all right.”
Namgung Cheong Gang was pressing him to withdraw from the match.
“Making it to the finals alone is already an excellent result. There’s no need to push yourself further here.”
“No…”
“You never said you were in pain, even as a child. This isn’t an injury that heals in a day.”
“That’s not it…”
“I wish you didn’t have to shoulder everything alone. I’m the eldest, and if I’d just won one more match…”
Namgung Cheong Gang had moved beyond worry into self-recrimination.
‘I’m losing my mind.’
This has been going on since yesterday evening.
He’d returned in fine spirits after successfully performing the Gigang Jung Geop, only to have his ashen-faced sister and brother throw the household into chaos.
He’d barely managed to talk them out of sending someone to fetch a physician from Baekga Maeng, or contacting the family to bring Dae Cheong Dan.
‘I just grilled a flounder nice and crispy, so why do they keep fussing?’
Contrary to everyone’s assumptions, Ho Yeon had not suffered an internal injury.
He’d expended Naegong, yes, but that was something he could replenish with the Ungi Jo Sik.
His exhaustion came from having to respond individually to the endless inquiries of those around him.
‘I need to show them I’m fine.’
As the arena drew near, Ho Yeon stepped forward lightly.
“I’m going.”
“Ho Yeon!”
“Ho Yeon!”
Leaving their worried cries behind, Ho Yeon’s figure descended onto the arena with fluid grace.
Thump!
“Whew, sorry for the wait. Shall we begin?”
“…”
As Ho Yeon stepped forward, Beom Seok’s eyes opened halfway as he regarded him.
‘Indeed. To bend but never break—is this truly the spirit of Changtian Namgung?’
Beom Seok marveled, and marveled again.
Clearly he must be suffering inside, yet outwardly he maintained such composure.
Truly a passionate young man to dominate an entire generation.
‘The age gap is considerable, yet he is one I would genuinely wish to cultivate friendship with.’
When Beom Seok smiled, Ho Yeon tilted his head in confusion.
“What are you doing? Let’s get started.”
“Namgung, my thanks to you.”
“Hm?”
“Truthfully, I was ashamed to stand here. I felt like a villain stealing the opportunity from my juniors. No matter the master’s command, I wanted to flee.”
At Beom Seok’s sudden confession, Ho Yeon stared at him as if confused by what he was hearing.
“But through your presence, I have been able to set down that burden of heart.”
“What?”
“I will forfeit.”
“What?”
Ho Yeon looked at Beom Seok with an expression of complete bewilderment.
What nonsense was this monk spouting?
He was supposed to beat him senseless and prove he was fine.
—Hahahaha! The little monk has keen eyes!
—Ahem! Wise indeed. To exchange martial arts with one lacking true discipline would be folly.
Namgung Ho Yeon’s brow furrowed as he listened to the Heuksadan master and the man of the Cheon Noe technique speak.
“Forfeiture? In a sacred duel, what kind of nonsense is that?”
“Haha, I know your heart well, Abbot. You must have wanted an honorable defeat.”
“Me?”
Defeat? What defeat?
That would be his fate soon enough, when he came crashing down.
As Namgung Ho Yeon fixed him with a stare, Beom Seok smiled gently and nodded as if he understood perfectly.
“But before I am a martial artist, I am a Buddhist. The second of the Shaolin Five Precepts is the Precept Against Theft.”
The Precept Against Theft.
The resolve never to take what is not given.
“A Buddhist learns that one must not covet anything beyond what is granted to oneself. Surely even my teacher will understand my choice.”
“Beom Seok of Shaolin Temple, do you forfeit?”
“Amitabha Buddha. Yes, I do.”
Gu Il Bi asked, and Beom Seok gave his clear answer. At once, the announcement of the victor followed.
“The champion of this Yongbong Tournament is Namgung Ho Yeon of the Namgung Clan!”
“Ohhhhh!”
“As expected, a pillar of strength…”
“Remarkable—such luminous righteousness!”
The crowd erupted in fervor at Beom Seok’s choice.
He had not seized upon his opponent’s wounded state as a weakness to exploit, but instead declared forfeiture—such nobility was rare.
To cast aside the glory of the Yongbong Tournament championship as trivial dust—his declaration of forfeiture was no choice to be mocked.
“Tsk, he made the right call. Even if he’d won, the public opinion would’ve turned sour.”
Tae Gwang of the Changtian Namgung muttered, clicking his tongue.
Though the Yongbong Tournament champion had indeed come from the Baekga Maeng side, this outcome was hardly unfavorable to the Murim Alliance.
A Shaolin disciple—who could be called the bright luminary of the Murim Alliance—had yielded honor to his junior, and the tournament ended on that noble note. In truth, it was good.
“Heh, a rather anticlimactic ending.”
“That may be, but you’ve looked pleased since earlier, haven’t you?”
“Do I?”
At Tae Gwang’s question, Mo Yong Sang Cheon gazed down at Namgung Ho Yeon, who wore a sullen expression, and murmured to himself.
“Well, I was sufficiently entertained.”
* * *
“Foolish bastard.”
Sa Ma Hwan, the Crimson Warlord, sneered as he read the report.
“Once the task was done, he should have left at once. Careless.”
The report contained news of Chu Eum’s death.
From the manner of his end, it was clear that Chu Eum had been intoxicated by the lingering effects of a Seungbyeok breakthrough and, acting recklessly beyond reason, had been killed.
“A pity to lose Jamui Amsi. It was no common Supernatural Ability.”
That Chu Eum had been accepted into Gucheon Sung on favorable terms was not solely because he had achieved Seungbyeok.
Jamui Amsi.
He had valued the effectiveness of that mental-system Supernatural Ability highly.
‘It was not complete mental domination. Against those with the mental fortitude of a Spirit Ability User, its efficacy was halved. Yet in disruption and confusion, it possessed real strength.’
Sa Ma Hwan felt a brief pang of regret for Chu Eum, then promptly erased all thought of him from memory.
Dead stones must be cleared from the board, after all.
“In any case, we have achieved our preliminary objective. With this, the Murim Alliance will be slow to respond to the next move.”
Scratch! Scraaaatch!
Sa Ma Hwan’s brush flew rapid as he began drafting orders in a frenzy.
Perhaps because thirty years of waiting were finally bearing fruit.
For once, a faint thrill of excitement crossed his otherwise unflappable face.
Tap!
“Hehehehe! Watch closely as a moment’s hesitation brings forth consequences you cannot imagine.”
Having completed all his orders, Sa Ma Hwan laughed with dark import.
With the forces of each great house scattered to Hanam because of the Yongbong Tournament, now was the opportune moment.
The time had come to drive a wedge into the gap that had opened in the Murim.
“…That said.”
His excitement was short-lived. Sa Ma Hwan regained his composure and ran his eyes over the report once more.
“Namgung Ho Yeon? His name has been cropping up frequently of late.”
The blood-red pupils of Sa Ma Hwan’s eyes gleamed with sinister intent.

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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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