The Great Heavenly Sword Emperor - Chapter 10

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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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#010. Traces of the Dong Bang Clan (4)

The next day.
Bo Hyun Temple bustled as it always did with visitors come to make their prayers.
Cheon Mujul’s quarters, situated in a secluded corner of the grounds, remained relatively quiet—though for entirely different reasons, it was anything but calm.
Those whom Gwang An had summoned to refurbish Cheon Mujul’s appearance had descended upon the place in force.
Barbers trimmed his hair and beard, and a tailor had even been brought in to fit him with new clothes.
Cheon Mujul, undertaking such things for the first time in his life, couldn’t focus on anything at all.
These were the most grueling hours he had ever endured, at least in spirit.
Before he could mark how several hours had slipped away, all the attendants finally departed.
“You look splendid. One might well believe you a son of a noble house.”
Though Cheon Mujul had not yet donned his new garments, the grooming alone had transformed his appearance entirely.
Gwang An watched him with evident satisfaction, a pleased smile spreading across his face.
“It feels strange.”
Cheon Mujul regarded his reflection in the mirror as he spoke.
“Everything feels awkward at first. To be honest, I’ve felt frustrated every time I saw you. But now—now I feel some relief.”
With that, Gwang An pressed something into his hands.
“What is this?”
“The current whereabouts of Buk Gung Dan Ya. He appears to still be at the Buk Gung Clan estate, though word is he’ll depart soon.”
“Depart?”
“It suggests their circumstances have grown quite dire. They’ve struggled to hold onto the estate they’ve inhabited all these years, yet it seems even that has become impossible now.”
Cheon Mujul accepted the paper Gwang An offered and fell into thought.
Though he’d heard the Buk Gung Clan had fallen, he had not imagined their straits were this grave.
“So the Dong Bang Clan merely watched as the Buk Gung Clan came to such ruin.”
“You should harbor no such expectations of the Dong Bang Clan. Besides, when you think on it, this is the natural way of things. Guardian Clans though they both may be, in the end the two families are rivals within the Jianghu. At most, minimal aid might be given, but ultimately each must fend for itself—such is the law of the Jianghu.”
The law of the Jianghu.
It was something Cheon Mujul, newly emerged into this world, would have to learn and grow accustomed to in the days ahead.
“I shall keep watch for news of Buk Gung Dan Ya at regular intervals. Once your new garments arrive, dress yourself and be ready to depart.”
Cheon Mujul nodded in acknowledgment.
‘Buk Gung Dan Ya. What manner of person might he be?’
Perhaps because their meeting was now arranged.
Cheon Mujul’s curiosity about Buk Gung Dan Ya had begun to grow, bit by bit.
And with it, his questions about the Dong Bang Clan had deepened as well.
Were they people concerned only with their own advancement and prosperity, indifferent to the ruin of others?
Or was there some other reason?
From what he had gathered thus far, there seemed to be no other reason at all.
Cheon Mujul folded the paper Gwang An had given him carefully and tucked it into his robe.

* * *

Before the main gate of a dilapidated estate.
A handful of workers carried out scant belongings, loading them outside.
A single young man watched the scene unfold with sorrowful eyes.
The expressions of those carrying the baggage mirrored the depths of his gaze—no different at all.
They too bore countenances full of grief and regret, their movements deliberate as they struggled to contain their emotions.
“That’s everything.”
After loading all their meager belongings onto a cart, several workers who appeared to be in their fifties approached the young man.
The youth continued to regard the loaded cart with eyes brimming with sorrow.
“Thank you for all these years.”
The young man bowed deeply to the workers in gratitude.
Startled, they immediately returned an even deeper bow.
“Forgive us for failing to serve you to the end.”
One of the workers spoke to the young man.
To this, the youth managed a faint smile and shook his head.
“No—you must find your own paths forward. If anything, I am grateful to you. For standing by my side all this time.”
The young man bowed once more with utmost courtesy.
At this final farewell, the laborers gazed at the young man with expressions that seemed ready to crumble into tears at any moment.
Even as they departed, they kept turning back, as if their feet refused to carry them away.
The young man remained rooted to that spot until the figures of the workers disappeared entirely from view.
“Sigh……”
Once everyone had gone, the young man turned his gaze upon the estate that had been his home only moments before.
It was a house his family had inhabited for generations.
Yet now he departed as an orphan cast adrift, with nothing and no one.
The glory of the past had vanished without a trace, and his present circumstance—solitary and bound for distant roads—struck him as achingly forlorn.
Buk Gung Dan Ya, the last heir of the Buk Gung Clan, his face etched with bitterness and sorrow, turned his back on a place that had ceased to be his.

* * *

Pulling a cart alone was far from simple.
Though he had trained in Martial Arts, the precarious stack of belongings on the small cart forced him to move with deliberate care, and despite considerable time passing, he had covered little ground.
“Sigh……”
Buk Gung Dan Ya halted the cart beside the Official Road and wiped the sweat from his brow with a weary exhale.
The road ahead stretched long, and there was no telling when he would arrive.
Yet there was no urgency to be found in Buk Gung Dan Ya.
It mattered little how long it took, or when he finally reached his destination.
It was only himself that needed to arrive.
With no one depending on him, there was nothing to hurry for.
That was when it happened.
“Forgive me, but might I ask for directions?”
The young man, who had settled onto the ground to rest, lifted his head at the sound of someone seeking guidance.
The person who had spoken was an unfamiliar youth—neat in appearance and dressed in a proper martial robe.
“Of course. Please, ask away.”
“I’m looking for the Buk Gung Clan. Which way should I go?”
At the mention of the Buk Gung Clan, Buk Gung Dan Ya’s eyes wavered.
The Buk Gung Clan.
That name had long since faded into obscurity.
It had been ages since the character for “Clan” had been dropped from their name, and now no one spoke of the Buk Gung house at all.
Yet from this stranger’s lips came not “Buk Gung house,” but “Buk Gung Clan”—the old name, restored.
Buk Gung Dan Ya quickly gathered himself.
“I know where it is, but I believe you may have taken a wrong path.”
“Ah, is that so? Would you be able to tell me which way I should go?”
Buk Gung Dan Ya nodded at the stranger’s request.
Who was this man? And why was he searching for the Buk Gung house?
Curiosity stirred within him.
He might be someone dangerous.
Yet Buk Gung Dan Ya thought the likelihood slim.
After all, having been forgotten, there were precious few who would count him as an enemy.
It was both welcome and unsettling.
Welcome as it was, Buk Gung Dan Ya did not lower his guard.
“The Buk Gung house lies along the path where I’m headed. If you help me pull this cart, I’ll guide you there.”
During the journey to his destination, Buk Gung Dan Ya intended to learn more about this stranger.
Moreover, if he could receive assistance on this arduous road, it would be a welcome blessing.
“Very well.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Cheon Mujul accepted Buk Gung Dan Ya’s proposal.
And so began the journey together of Cheon Mujul, heir to the Sword Saint, and Buk Gung Dan Ya, last descendant of the Buk Gung Clan, which had once been a Guardian Clan.

* * *

‘Who exactly is this man?’
The thought bloomed in Buk Gung Dan Ya’s mind as he walked alongside Cheon Mujul.
Here was someone searching for the Buk Gung Clan, yet he asked his guide—the very one offering to show him the way—nothing at all.
No questions about the Clan’s location, its circumstances, nothing.
He didn’t even ask how much farther they had to go, as most would naturally do.
The way he followed along without complaint, placing absolute trust in Buk Gung Dan Ya’s word, made no sense to him whatsoever.
Yet Buk Gung Dan Ya himself hesitated to ask questions first.
He had asked once, though.
Why would you want to go to the Buk Gung Clan?
But the answer that came back was,
“I have business there.”
Nothing more than that terse reply.
After that, Buk Gung Dan Ya couldn’t press further.
Partly because the response had been so brief, but mainly because the atmosphere had grown so grave and heavy that it felt wrong to speak.
And so countless questions simply circled inside Buk Gung Dan Ya’s mind.
Even as they walked, he wondered if it was right to lead this stranger Cheon Mujul all the way to his refuge.
With each passing moment, Buk Gung Dan Ya’s wariness only deepened.
So then—why was Cheon Mujul asking him nothing in return?
Because there was no need to ask.
When Cheon Mujul had first spoken to him, he had already understood everything before doing so.
The meager bundle loaded onto the cart.
The sight of a lone man pulling the cart down a long road.
That alone had been enough to read Buk Gung Dan Ya’s current circumstances.
He had withheld his identity from the start because he judged that neither the place nor the moment was suited for the kind of serious, close conversation such information demanded.
So Cheon Mujul was simply waiting—waiting until he and Buk Gung Dan Ya could speak properly.
That would likely come after Buk Gung Dan Ya had reached his destination.
Thus the two of them departed on their long journey in silence.
And when the sun had nearly set,
the two arrived at a place.
A shabby Thatched Hut, standing isolated and far removed from where they had begun—a lonely structure in a desolate expanse.
This was Buk Gung Dan Ya’s new home.
“Sigh…”
Buk Gung Dan Ya exhaled deeply upon arrival.
His mind was turbulent, yet this place was now where he would have to take root and live going forward.
Rather than lament what had been left behind, this was the time to think of the future he would build here.
“Is this the Buk Gung Clan?”
At Cheon Mujul’s words, Buk Gung Dan Ya—who had momentarily forgotten about him—flinched and turned to look at him.
Cheon Mujul gazed quietly at the shabby Thatched Hut.
Even in Cheon Mujul’s eyes as he regarded the hut, there seemed to linger many complicated thoughts.
‘What am I supposed to say?’
As Buk Gung Dan Ya hesitated, unable to answer easily,
“I’d heard the situation wasn’t good, but it’s worse than I imagined.”
The moment those words reached his ears, Buk Gung Dan Ya’s wariness sharpened to a knife’s edge.
“Who exactly are you?”
Watching Cheon Mujul speak as if he already knew everything, Buk Gung Dan Ya asked with a cold expression.
“As I said, I’m someone who came looking for the Buk Gung Clan on business.”
Cheon Mujul spoke while meeting Buk Gung Dan Ya’s gaze directly.
Buk Gung Dan Ya felt regret.
Regret at having brought this stranger here so easily, and blame toward himself for thinking so carelessly.
“I wanted to see for myself whether the Buk Gung Clan could truly fulfill its role as a Guardian Clan again.”
At the words “Guardian Clan,” Buk Gung Dan Ya’s brow furrowed.
“Who are you, to speak of Guardian Clans?”
Buk Gung Dan Ya’s voice trembled faintly.
There were almost no people in the world who would mention Guardian Clans.
Even he no longer spoke the term aloud.
The Dong Bang Clan, which had once been a Guardian Clan alongside them, had long since abandoned that name.
Cheon Mujul, who had spoken of Guardian Clans, now looked at Buk Gung Dan Ya.
“I’m honestly disappointed. That you brought an unknown stranger here so readily, and that even now, showing belated caution, you don’t draw your sword. There’s nothing more worth seeing.”
The Buk Gung Clan had fallen, but he had hoped Buk Gung Dan Ya was a capable man.
As Gwang An had said, two would be better than one alone.
But the series of displays he had witnessed thus far were disappointing enough to abandon such hopes entirely.
Apart from his martial prowess, Buk Gung Dan Ya showed not the slightest will to rise again.
Even Cheon Mujul, whose emotions rarely stirred, felt considerable disappointment as he looked at him.
Above all, looking at him kindled anger.
Though Cheon Mujul himself did not understand why.
Then.
“Who do you think you are to judge me?”
Buk Gung Dan Ya, his pride wounded, turned toward Cheon Mujul with an angry expression and voice.
“He’s someone who deserves that recognition.”
“So who are you, exactly?”
Buk Gung Dan Ya could no longer contain himself and cried out.

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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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