The Lightning I Harbor Is Too Strong - Chapter 33

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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 33
Paegeom Namgung Baek.
Dang Mujeong had always called him the Sword Demon, yet even Dang Mujeong could not hide his respect for Namgung Baek’s blade.
Yet to Jeong Ishin, he seemed somehow different.
From their first meeting, he was missing an arm, and his build was hardly imposing. He was a man who had never lost his smile, who carried about him something childlike in spirit.
For this reason, Namgung Baek felt less like a great swordsman to Jeong Ishin than like a friend.
And now, that very alias—spoken by someone he was seeing for the first time.
“Huff—!”
Jeong Ishin gritted his teeth and pushed hard against the earth.
In an instant, his body lifted free and reached toward the window of Yuharu’s upper floor.
Thud!
The backlash of Jeogroe Shin had long since begun. The price of that explosive acceleration—his entire body now seething with heat.
Smoke curled visibly above his shoulders.
Yet he did not stop climbing the outer wall of Yuharu.
He bounded upward without hesitation, planting his feet on the protruding stones that jutted from the facade.
“There! There!”
“……How can the Gyeongsin technique be so erratic?”
“Hmm. I thought he was from Namgung, but his sensing method looks more like Cheongsong? What do you think, sister?”
“I’d say…… Shaolin.”
“What?”
His heightened senses caught every word exchanged below, yet Jeong Ishin’s gaze never wavered from beginning to end.
Thud!
He reached the window ledge of Yuharu’s fourth floor in a heartbeat. The force of his push left not even a mark upon the frame.
With fine-tuned control of his Gyeongsin, he was guided toward his destination.
‘I’m here!’
The topmost window of Yuharu.
Beneath narrow, dark brows, gleaming eyes met his.
The man’s mouth was twisted in a grin wide enough to split his face.
That was all Jeong Ishin saw.
Crack!
Something flashed, and then sharp pain exploded across his forehead.
“Aagh!”
Jeogroe Shin scattered of its own accord, and his body began to turn cold.
As the technique’s function vanished, the heightened senses that had commanded his surroundings grew dull by degrees.
Perhaps because his fevered head was cooling, Jeong Ishin now understood his situation.
Whoosh!
The rough wind that lashed past his ears made clear that he was falling.
He heard shouting from far below.
Fortunately, even with Jeogroe Shin gone, the body refined through Yeokgeun Sesu Gyeong was still his own.
Thud—!
A small cloud of earth dust rose as Jeong Ishin landed safely on the ground.
The real problem came next.
“……Jeong Ishin. We have words to exchange with you.”
Jegal Juk approached on behalf of the group, and his expression could hardly be called welcoming.
This man had ignored his proposal, slipped through their encirclement as if it were nothing, and revealed a Gyeongsin technique worthy of admiration—yet his identity remained a mystery.
That was precisely how Jegal Juk looked at Jeong Ishin now.
‘This…… I can’t run from this.’
Perhaps the thought of running had already fled.
The man atop Yuharu’s highest floor.
It was impossible that someone who knew Namgung Baek would appear at random in such a remote village.
‘They must be connected somehow.’
Jeong Ishin smiled brightly, as though nothing had happened.
“My apologies. My master was waiting at home.”
“You offered that excuse moments ago.”
“Did I? Ha ha.”
Though Jeong Ishin tried to smooth things over with laughter, the mood would not ease.
Wi Seok alone was already bouncing with the gleeful pounce of a hunter who had caught his prey.
“We exchanged names plainly! You declared yourself a warrior of Jeongdoui Cheonmaeng! Yet this shameful display of negligence!”
“That’s right! You wretch!! Why were you climbing the building wall like a rat! Were you truly a rat!”
Even Song Howon, who had remained silent until now, joined in the attack on Jeong Ishin.
This time, Jegal Juk and Gu Jayun made no move to restrain them either.
Wi Seok and Song Howon naturally began to rant like madmen.
“Now that I think about it, that move of yours was truly cowardly! Me—subjected to such an attack? I’m starting to believe what our sect master said! You must reveal your lineage at once!”
“Master Wi! There’s nothing more to see here! If this man isn’t a heretic, then I—”
Insult piled upon insult.
Baseless accusations, when shouted loud enough, planted seeds of doubt in the minds of all who heard them.
Surely Jeong Ishin was a man of principle, but was there any reason he would endure such humiliation and still refuse to name his school?
As the atmosphere grew more hostile, the accusations spiraled toward a crescendo.
“You worthless wretch! You’ve picked up some shabby martial arts from who knows where, and now you strut as though the entire martial world lies beneath your feet!”
“Can’t name your lineage? Are you one of those secret sects that plague the world with hidden transmissions? You cunning snake! Lady Gongsun, bear with me just a moment longer! I swear I’ll place that scoundrel in your gentle hands!”
It was precisely when Gongsun Young’s expression turned to one of genuine horror, her mouth opening as if to retch.
“Ah.”
Jeong Ishin, who had endured the abuse in silence until now, suddenly turned his head.
All eyes naturally followed his gaze.
Boom—
Only then did they see it.
Boom!
A massive figure came hurtling through the air toward the arena.
* * *
Crash!
Mujin landed in the center of the arena.
His position fell, by sheer coincidence, precisely between Jeong Ishin and the warriors of Jeongdoui Cheonmaeng.
“They say a man speaks through his back, don’t they? You had me worried, didn’t you?”
“…It grew late, and when you did not arrive, I simply went looking.”
“How touching, master and disciple.”
He answered without turning his head. The faint displeasure that colored his voice was not directed at Jeong Ishin.
Jeong Ishin found this quite satisfactory.
“…The Little Vajra.”
Jegal Juk spoke an epithet he had never heard before.
There was no need to ask who it referred to.
Mujin acknowledged it plainly.
“It has been long since we met, Master Jegal. I trust Lady Gongsun and Master Eon remain in good health?”
It seemed his acquaintances were limited to these few.
Yet one thing was now confirmed through the exchange of greetings.
“Sh-Shaolin…!”
“Little Vajra Mujin. I am Gu Jayun, a student of the Flexible Heaven Sword, Master Du Sangbaek. An honor to make your acquaintance.”
“Th-This cannot be…”
In Hanam, the influence of Shaolin was beyond question.
Hanam, quite literally, was Shaolin’s domain.
There was no one in the martial world of Junwon who did not know of its standing.
Though Mujin did not speak directly, his very bearing affirmed Jeong Ishin’s existence.
In other words, the man who had just endured all manner of abuse was under Shaolin’s protection.
‘…Damn it.’
Wi Seok was a youth whose complexion had never been fair, his face naturally blotchy and discolored.
But since Mujin’s arrival, he had grown visibly pale.
‘Shaolin—did I curse Shaolin? I cursed his martial arts and his lineage, but… Shaolin itself isn’t his lineage, is it?’
Wi Seok was not alone in grasping for any thread of salvation.
Song Howon, who had established himself in Hanam, found his world suddenly darkening. He gnawed at his jaw so hard he nearly struck his own cheek.
‘It must be a personal acquaintance. Being known to the Little Vajra is a burden, but compared to Shaolin as a whole…!’
What exactly was their connection?
From Song Howon’s perspective, the uncertainty was maddening—he felt he might leap from his skin.
Hwahae Sang beside him had already fallen to his knees, and for a moment Song Howon considered whether he should follow suit.
“I didn’t know the Little Vajra had such ties. What is your relationship, if I may ask?”
Her voice was crisp and lively, unburdened by calculation.
She asked with pure curiosity, without a trace of guile or hedging.
Jeong Ishin answered Gongsun Young’s question at once.
“He is my master.”
“A guest of Shaolin.”
“My master.”
“A guest.”
“Master and disciple.”
Wi Seok and Song Howon’s faces darkened at the childish back-and-forth.
Whether they truly were master and disciple or not, their closeness was plain to see.
“Hmm. Interesting.”
“Just as I thought……!”
While everyone else was mulling over the relationship between Jeong Ishin and Mujin, a voice rang out simultaneously in all their ears.
―That’s enough from down there. Come up—the food’s getting cold.
It was a voice that seemed to reach them from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Tracing its source was difficult, given how skillfully it had been projected using Jingi.
Only Jeong Ishin knew where it came from, so he strode past Mujin and headed straight up.
“I’m s-sorry! So very s-sorry……!”
“Stop your babbling and show us the way.”
“Y-yes, sir!?”
He tapped Song Howon on the shoulder—the one kneeling alongside Hwahae Sang.
He pressed the man, who couldn’t even meet his eyes.
“Take us to the top floor of Yuharu.”
* * *
Unable to withstand the barrage of questions, Mujin finally admitted that Jeong Ishin was Mangakaek’s disciple.
And that was how everything came to pass.
“M-master! I’m truly sorry, I knew nothing, absolutely nothing……!”
It was only five floors to climb.
In that short distance, Song Howon had already bowed more than ten times.
But Jeong Ishin’s mind had already moved on to what awaited them at the top; a casual wave of his hand seemed to settle the matter, and Song Howon’s face brightened as he hurried ahead to lead the way.
“Ugh……!”
Wi Seok was the only one still groaning by the time they arrived.
“Ah, please come in! For the heroes of the Jeongdoui Cheonmaeng, I, Song Howon, have prepared everything with utmost care……!”
Ignoring Song Howon’s enthusiastic cry, Jeong Ishin opened the door to find an ornately appointed room waiting for him.
And at the far end of the long table, he was there.
Jeong Ishin approached with both hands clasped respectfully.
“……I am called Jeong Ishin.”
“Seop Yeon. Some call me the Radiant Sword Lord. I’m with the Jeongdoui Cheonmaeng these days.”
For his age, his manner of speech was light. Yet the aura he emanated was so formidable that this lightness came across as ease, almost as nonchalance.
As Jeong Ishin made to speak again, Seop Yeon raised a palm to him.
“Slowly.”
An unreasonable request. He was burning to ask about Namgung Baek right then and there.
Yet Jeong Ishin’s mind settled quickly.
He hadn’t missed where Seop Yeon’s eyes were gleaming—what they were fixed upon.
‘He’s recognized the Gwangya……!’
The Gwangya.
One of the three blades at Jeong Ishin’s waist.
Seop Yeon had recognized Namgung Baek’s broken sword, the Gwangya.
A blade from a hundred years past—and half of it was gone.
‘……This too is the work of fate. No need to rush.’
As one mystery found its answer, his mind grew easier, and he could settle into his seat.
Listening to the conversation unfold, he found the exchange quite intriguing.
“I heard that Sohuop declined the Jeongdoui Cheonmaeng’s invitation……but I never imagined there would be such an unexpected companion.”
“……It is a matter of my teacher’s will.”
“I understood that Mangakaek had withdrawn long ago, yet it seems he’s maintained his ties with Shaolin all this while.”
“So it would appear. As a humble monk, I have little knowledge to offer on such matters.”
The exchange between Jegal Juk and Mujin carried an edge.
Only then did Jeong Ishin understand the faint discomfort that shadowed Mujin’s face.
‘So these are the ones who asked him to journey to Cheonmu Hagkwan with them.’
Having declined their invitation yet meeting them on the road anyway, Mujin’s situation was indeed awkward.
It was then that the guest room door opened.
He assumed it was fresh food arriving, but instead there stood a middle-aged man in a pale yellow robe.
“Father!”
Song Howon, who had been crouching in the corner, sprang to his feet.
He bounded over, and a bright flash erupted from his cheek.
Crack!
“Oof!”
The middle-aged man’s brow furrowed as he watched Song Howon sprawled on the ground.
“I told you to address me as Master. And you’re like this……!”
He clicked his tongue in displeasure and bowed his head toward the seat of honor.
“I apologize for the disturbance.”
“It’s fine.”
Seop Yeon merely tilted his cup while gazing out the window.
Even at his gesture of complete indifference, the middle-aged man bowed again.
And remarkably, that gesture extended to Jeong Ishin as well.
“I hear you’re called Jeong, a martial artist. A disciple of Mangakaek, I’m told. I am Song Hwayeol, Master of the Noejeong Geommun, and my foolish son has committed a grave error. Allow me to apologize in his stead.”
A man twice his age was bowing to him.
Whatever his intent, the situation was profoundly awkward for Jeong Ishin.
He rose awkwardly and received the apology.
Despite Jeong Ishin’s assurance, Song Hwayeol made his son stand and forced him to kneel before Jeong Ishin once more.
“Though I have achieved little in the Gangho, I am still the master of a school. My knees may be humble, but I cannot bend them lightly. Young hero, I hope you will understand and forgive me.”
“I am truly sorry, Jeong, for everything!”
“This is called the Noejeong Dan. It is not so grand, but please accept it as a token of our sincerity.”
The two men of the Noejeong Geommun remained bowed for some time before finally taking their leave.
Truth be told, after meeting Seop Yeon, Jeong Ishin had barely noticed Song Howon at all.
‘I’m curious how he manipulates that thunder energy, but the Master is something else entirely.’
As Jeong Ishin turned the wooden box Song Hwayeol had given him over in his palm.
A cup was offered toward him.
He turned his head to see the man introduced as Gu Jayun waving a wine bottle.
“The Master of the Noejeong Geommun proved cleverer than expected. Don’t take it too harshly.”
When Jeong Ishin accepted the cup, wine filled it.
As Gu Jayun poured, Jeong Ishin’s mind raced.
‘Why would he say harshly?’
Fortunately, Gu Jayun was a man who enjoyed talking.
“The Master himself may have some reputation, but the Noejeong Geommun as a whole is nothing but a minor sect. Had they treated a guest of Shaolin poorly, wouldn’t they suffer consequences?”
He was speaking of the power that the name Shaolin carried.
Especially here in Hanam—a place where countless secular branches of Shaolin flourished.
“Of course, Shaolin is a profoundly merciful sect, but the workings of the great powers of the Gangho hardly follow their ideals alone, do they? There are jackals aplenty who wish to curry favor with Shaolin.”
So making such a public apology was their path to survival, he said.
“I see…….”
“It’s petty and complicated. But what can we do? Such is the logic of the Gangho. Wouldn’t you agree, Miss?”
“……Yes, well.”
His sudden, pointed question to Gongsun Young ended the conversation there.
Because immediately after, Seop Yeon opened his mouth.
“Your name is Jeong Ishin, yes?”
Mujin and Jegal Juk, who had been bickering endlessly, fell silent at once.
“Yes.”
Jeong Ishin answered briefly, and Seop Yeon’s lips curved into an enigmatic smile.
“Would you like to know?”
“……Yes.”
“Shall I tell you?”
“Yes!”
Perhaps because they had been discussing the Paegeom.
Seop Yeon’s manner reminded him somehow of Namgung Baek.
With that enigmatic, gleeful smile, he said,
“Then, learn the blade from me.”
Become my disciple, he offered.
The lightning I harbor within is far too fierce
Author |
Woo San-yu
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Samyang C&C Corp.
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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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