Namgoong the Sword Ghost - Chapter 95

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

Chapter 95. Friend of the Sword Ghost
This was the Murim Alliance Great Assembly Hall.
Representatives from the Nine Great Sects and One Class and the various martial factions were locked in heated debate.
“Shouldn’t we offer aid?”
“On what grounds?”
“Grounds? The Evil Black Sword Factions have encroached on the territory of the Orthodox White Righteous Factions—that alone is justification enough.”
“Speak plainly. Gucheon Sung is engaged in a power struggle with the Baekga Maeng—nothing more.”
“Precisely! Why should we shed blood because of their quarrel?”
The Murim Alliance’s position was decidedly ambiguous.
Gucheon Sung had made a formal declaration of war directly against the Baekga Maeng.
They had drawn a clear line, stating their purpose was to check the Baekga Maeng’s expansion of power.
In truth, the Baekga Maeng had extended their reach into numerous enterprises over the past thirty years, causing no small measure of inconvenience to the Murim Alliance itself.
In such circumstances, it seemed strange for the Murim Alliance to come to the Baekga Maeng’s aid.
“Hmm, I worry that only the innocent will suffer. Would it not be better to support the Baekga Maeng and bring this conflict to a swift conclusion?”
Tae Gwang, Sect Master of the Wudang Faction, spoke thus.
At his words, Jung Tak, the Third Elder of the Jongnam Faction, known as the Flowing Cloud Sword, began to gesture animatedly and raised his voice.
“Alliance Master! If we do so, matters may only escalate further!”
“Quite right. The Murim Alliance must maintain its neutrality.”
“If we intervene, won’t that become a full-scale righteous war?”
“Let us not stir up unnecessary trouble.”
In response to Tae Gwang’s single statement, more than ten voices of opposition poured forth.
“So you propose we simply stand aside and watch?”
“Watch? No—we must mediate!”
“Mediate?”
“We urge both sides to cease their conflict.”
“Ha! As if they’ll listen.”
“We must attempt persuasion. Why declare it impossible without even trying?”
“What did you just say?!”
Voices began to rise once more.
In a corner of the assembly hall, Cheol Mu Gu observed these men and analyzed the situation quietly.
‘The Jongnam, Cheong Sung, and Jeom Chang factions oppose outright. The Gong Dong Faction seems lukewarm to the idea as well.’
Kunlun had not even sent representatives to begin with, and while the Ami Faction had taken a position regarding the salvation of all beings, they had remained silent on providing full support to the Baekga Maeng.
‘The Five Mountains Sword Faction, by contrast, leans toward support. Among them, the Huashan Faction lacks the resources and keeps quiet.’
The Taishan, Hengshan, and Songshan Factions possessed power comparable to the Nine Great Sects, yet they rarely had the opportunity to make a name for themselves.
It was likely they harbored thoughts of using this war between Gucheon Sung and the Baekga Maeng to spread their renown across the nine provinces.
Had the Huashan Faction been strong, they would have united the Five Mountains Sword Faction under their banner, but now there was an air of testing who would emerge as the true leader of the Five Mountains Sword Faction.
‘The Sect Master wishes to provide aid, but the Wudang Faction remains silent for now.’
Beyond these, the Haenam Sword Faction in the far south and the Bota Sect on the eastern islands maintained strict neutrality.
The weaker factions—the Seolsan Faction, Nabu Faction, Mosan Faction, and others—were gauging the situation carefully.
‘The most crucial matter is…….’
Cheol Mu Gu’s gaze turned toward the middle-aged man clad in a yellow monastic robe.
At that same moment, Tae Gwang’s eyes also found him.
“What does Shaolin think?”
“Amitabha Buddha.”
In response to Tae Gwang’s question, Won Dong, one of the Ten Precept Ten Monks of Shaolin and bearer of the Skilful Speech Precept, opened his mouth.
“The Silent Buddha Sage remains silent.”
“Ah!”
“Then they are neutral!”
“Neutral? Did you not just say he has not spoken?”
Heo Ryang, the Silent Buddha Sage, a towering figure of the Orthodox Faction who had long since passed one hundred years of age.
Since it had been over thirty years since he had last opened his mouth, his silence came as no surprise.
Over three decades of speechlessness made the epithet “Silent” hardly remarkable.
“Hehe, let us observe how matters unfold. Should urgency arise, surely the Baekga Maeng will make concessions?”
News of the Silent Buddha Sage’s silence strengthened the position of those opposed to rendering aid.
Jung Tak of the Jongnam Faction pulled back his weathered lips and spoke.
“Should they relinquish their greed, peace will surely follow. Would it not?”
“Hmm, a sound argument.”
“All calamity springs from desire.”
“The Baekga Maeng has brought this catastrophe upon themselves by their obsession with power struggles!”
Though their words condemned the Baekga Maeng, their expressions betrayed an expectation of profit from the conflict between the two sides.
Wrinkles formed between Cheol Mu Gu’s brows as he observed the unfolding situation.
‘Hmm, so this is the true state of the Murim Alliance. Master was right after all.’
“Cursed wretches. A Blood Calamity approaches—prepare yourselves. Why? Because they’re all gorged with greed. Stagnant water rots, and soon a tempest will come to overturn everything from top to bottom.”
Master used to say that the subtle principles of the world repeat their cycles of peace and war.
It was a kind of rhythm.
The Rebellion of the Blood Demon five hundred years ago and the Sword Ghost Blood Calamity three hundred years before had played just such a role—like a great storm.
‘Three hundred years since the Sword Ghost Blood Calamity. All the pressures and stagnant forces compressed all this time—are they about to burst forth at once…?’
Crack!
Cheol Mu Gu clenched both fists and bit his lip.
If the Murim Alliance would not move, then the Baekga Maeng had to act swiftly and help them.
‘This isn’t some petty territorial squabble like always. We’re standing atop a current of vast historical change! If we stand idle, thinking the light rain won’t soak us through, the waters will rise to our necks!’
He shot to his feet.
Cheol Mu Gu swept out of the Great Assembly Hall, where nothing but hollow speeches were being exchanged.
Yet no one paid any attention to the beggar’s departure.
* * *
“Brother Il Sung! Why must you refuse?”
“Such is the Alliance’s directive.”
“The Gucheon Sung have launched an attack! We must help!”
“Ah, Hye Il. Enough.”
Il Sung, third disciple of the Wudang Faction, spoke with weariness in his voice.
“There is no direct support, true—but the Alliance has not abandoned the matter. Our very return to Hubei is itself pressure on the Gucheon Sung and aid to the Baekga Maeng.”
“That makes no sense!”
“What makes no sense? So long as we hold our ground, the Gucheon Sung will not cross that line.”
“That’s exactly what makes no sense! Who drew that line in the first place? I never agreed to such a line!”
He sighed deeply.
Il Sung exhaled, a long and weary sound.
‘Why has he become like this all of a sudden?’
Hye Il was not ordinarily one to assert himself so strongly.
Even at the home temple, though many had taken notice of the boy’s genius, he had always trained alone in quiet diligence.
‘It seems he’s been running with Gwang Myeong, and this is the result.’
Il Sung shook his head slowly, then spoke in deliberately stern tones.
“That will be all. Say another word and it becomes mere petulance.”
……
“A decision made at the Alliance level cannot be altered by argument. We are swordsmen of the Wudang Faction, and the Wudang Faction belongs to the Murim Alliance.”
Step, step, step.
As Il Sung withdrew, Hye Il bit his lip and murmured softly.
“……But at the same time, I am also a friend of Ho Yeon.”
“See? Didn’t I tell you? It won’t take. Talk to a wall and you’ll get the same response.”
Whisk! Thud!
A man who had just performed a perfect aerial somersault and descended from the air in a display of the Divine Movement Technique, a Kunlun Daoist of short stature and round build—Gwang Myeong.
“These rigid Central Plains scholars never change, do they? Talking to them is like talking to a brick wall. I’m an outsider—words don’t reach across that divide.”
“Gwang Myeong.”
“What’ll it be?”
……
At Gwang Myeong’s question, Hye Il’s expression grew contemplative.
But soon his eyes brightened with resolve, and he nodded.
“You’re right. Asking permission seems harder than seeking forgiveness.”
“Hah-hah! That’s it! A talent like you won’t be condemned unless you commit some grave Treachery and Betrayal.”
“I’m sorry to my brothers…… but I have to go.”
“Kreh-heh! Now I’ve got an excuse. Unable to return to the home temple because of a friend. Perfect justification!”
Step, step, step.
Hye Il and Gwang Myeong, arm in arm, slipped away from their quarters.
* * *
……I see.”
“My apologies. It seems our sect cannot move on this.”
“It is not your fault.”
“If we had more power, things might have been different.”
Muk Gyeong, one of the Eight Elders of Huashan, lowered his head in regret.
He felt ashamed of himself—returning from the Great Assembly Hall without speaking a single word.
In the Murim Alliance, one’s voice comes from the power one’s sect commands.
A fallen Huashan Faction hardly commands anyone’s ear.
“Lift your head, Elder. That’s precisely why I’m going.”
“Un Am.”
“I will return with their commitment.”
“Still, I wonder—can he truly restore what Huashan has lost?”
“Without question.”
Un Am nodded at Muk Gyeong’s doubt and continued.
“Did you not see it yourself, Elder?”
“The Red Moon Shadow Flower Sword. Certainly a masterwork of the Illusory Sword. But whether Namgung Ho Yeon truly created it—that gives me pause.”
“I have traveled with him and can affirm it: he possesses the makings of a true Sect Master.”
“A Sect Master… indeed…”
Muk Gyeong murmured to himself.
Earning the title Dragon at eighteen? That much he could fathom.
The world did occasionally produce such unfathomable prodigies.
But a Sect Master? That was no title that should ever be granted to a boy of eighteen.
‘At that age, to have mastered the sword path and established his own Sword Principles? Is such a thing even possible?’
Un Am spoke to Muk Gyeong, whose expression betrayed deep skepticism.
“I know a Daoist should not say such things, but this is an opportunity.”
“An opportunity…”
“From what I’ve witnessed, Namgung Ho Yeon is a man of considerable gratitude. He will not forget a friend who stood by him in difficult times.”
…
Muk Gyeong met Un Am’s steady gaze and soon nodded.
The blade sang as it was drawn.
He unsheathed the sword at his waist and handed it to Un Am.
“Take it.”
“Elder, this is…”
“From this moment, you are Huashan.”
…
“Pursue your path freely. We shall support your back.”
As a smile like a wrinkled plum blossom bloomed at the corner of Muk Gyeong’s mouth, Un Am gripped the blade and vowed, jaw clenched.
“I shall return with the plum blossom, I swear it.”
Footstep after footstep after footstep.
As Un Am rose and left the quarters, a woman’s voice—clear as temple bells—rang out.
“Where are you going?”
“…Miss Nan Ah.”
“Hmm? A Daoist girding himself with resolve in the dead of night. It sounds like something from a folktale collection.”
The short-haired woman who approached, her hair swaying, was Nan Ah—the fourth disciple of the Ami Faction.
Nan Ah gazed at Un Am, whose expression had hardened like stone, and smiled brightly.
“If you’re heading the same way, would you like company?”
“I am not out for an evening stroll.”
“Neither am I.”
“…Surely you’re not also…?”
Un Am’s brow twitched; Nan Ah nodded in reply.
“The Nak Jeon Meeting. I enjoyed it more than I expected.”
“I doubt the Ami Faction would permit such a thing.”
“Understanding Desire Leads to Nirvana. The Buddha does not deny desire; rather, he teaches how to comprehend and become aware of it.”
“It is dangerous. Reconsider.”
“Pardon? I made the semifinals. Didn’t Un Am fall in the round of thirty-six?”
“…There’s no arguing with you.”
“Ha ha, of course not. I’m in the semifinals; Un Am is round of thirty-six.”
Footstep after footstep after footstep.
Bathed in moonlight, the shadows of Un Am and Nan Ah walked side by side toward the same destination.
* * *
Clatter-clatter! Clatter-clatter!
The wheels rumbled on.
A party of riders moved swiftly southward.
‘Hmm. I’ve sent the letter, but… surely they’ll understand?’
Inside the carriage, Ho Yeon sat with closed eyes, turning the thought over in his mind.
After deciding to support the Danli Sega following Ah Hyeon’s counsel, Ho Yeon had sent a letter home explaining the matter in careful detail.
If the carrier pigeons did not rest, the letter would reach Hefei by the time they arrived at the Danli Sega.
‘I’m in command here. Yeah. I haven’t made a mistake. Yeah. In a rapidly changing battlefield, the rule is report after action, not before. If I’d reported first, it would’ve delayed everything. Yeah.’
Even as he thought this, the faces of his mother and father flickered through Ho Yeon’s mind.
He could see it clearly — his father worrying day and night, his mother weeping every single day.
“Damn.”
Ho Yeon muttered irritably.
A familiar voice came from beside him.
“Friend. Wouldn’t ‘Oh no!’ or ‘What now?’ suit you better than ‘Damn’?”
Ho Yeon’s eyes opened.
In the carriage were a long-armed ape, a lovely bird, a sword warrior, and a foolish monk — all staring at him.
“So, who the hell are you lot?”

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