The World’s Greatest is Dead - Chapter 191

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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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The Heavenly Supreme Has Died – Episode 191
The blade pressed against my neck. A chilling aura of sword energy, and the atmosphere fell silent.
The moment the duel began, the spectators held their breath.
I felt their gazes bearing down upon me.
Eyes rigid with intensity fixed in my direction. Seo-pyeong. Woon-ryong of the Shaman sect and her future successor.
The position of sect leader in the next generation was already promised to him—a renowned prodigy of the martial world.
The way he looked at me was sharp as a blade.
The sword settled gently downward.
As I glanced at it, I sensed movement from the side.
It was the Referee.
He approached me, attempting to say something.
Whoosh.
Instead, I gripped my blade and created distance between us.
“…Eh?”
The Referee expressed bewilderment at my action. The match was over.
The moment my blade touched his neck, the duel should have ended.
But I had no intention of stopping there.
Seo-pyeong stood rigid as stone. I spoke while observing him.
“You talk too much for someone with so little substance, so I thought I’d give you a warning.”
Speaking with a slight smile, Seo-pyeong’s eyes hardened.
Seeing that, I continued.
“Why? Surprised?”
“What did you just…do?”
Seo-pyeong seemed unable to comprehend what had transpired.
What did I do?
“Why ask?”
Swish.
I spun the blade I was holding in a circle.
“You just lost. Like a fool.”
“…!”
“If you’d paid attention to the situation instead of running your mouth, this wouldn’t have happened. But since you couldn’t manage that, here we are.”
I nodded slightly. As I exchanged words with him, the spectators who had fallen silent began murmuring once more.
-What was that just now?
-Didn’t the Protagonist’s blade touch Woon-ryong’s neck?
-…But in such a brief moment, what…?
-Then, Woon-ryong lost?
The noise grew louder and more chaotic.
As the murmurs from the spectators’ gallery poured in, Seo-pyeong’s face twisted grotesquely.
His grip on the blade tightened, and he bit his lip hard.
“Hey, you’ll draw blood that way.”
I let out a chuckle and crossed blades with him.
“Get your head straight. I told you it was a warning.”
“….”
“The world isn’t always what it appears to be.”
No matter how exceptional Seo-pyeong’s eyes were.
No matter how sharp his instincts.
It didn’t matter.
In the end, if he hadn’t seen it, that was all there was to it.
“Are you going to keep this up?”
I stepped back to a suitable distance and spoke again, and the man’s face twisted.
“If you don’t want to continue, then step down.”
I pointed outside the arena with the tip of my blade.
He gripped his sword with a face flushed crimson.
It seemed he had no intention of stepping down.
“…Tch.”
A rough sound escaped from his mouth.
“I’ll make you regret this.”
He wrapped himself in the last shreds of his pride.
‘How ridiculous.’
I laughed at the sight of it.
In my past life too, there were often men like him.
When I lived as Kim Min-chul, all those who hated me reacted exactly like this.
‘Did I leave them alone? Or.’
Did I eliminate them.
‘I can’t quite remember.’
Since it was a useless memory, I didn’t bother recalling it at length.
After all, what mattered wasn’t some past life.
“Hoo.”
A sense of tension arose.
Seo-pyeong’s demeanor had changed. It seemed he’d come to his senses from what just happened.
His momentum was rising.
Huuuu.
As if the air itself responded, something grew heavier.
It felt somewhat different from other energies.
So this was.
‘Sword Aura?’
The pure inner energy said to be felt only in the Sword Way.
It was a refreshing yet dense sensation, distinctly carrying the essence of the Shaman.
Weighty.
Yes, that was precisely the right way to describe it.
Seo-pyeong’s martial technique was remarkably weighty.
Watching it, I grasped my sword once more.
Then.
[Should I lend you a hand?]
Yoo Cheon-gil asked with amusement coloring his voice.
Honestly, I was tempted.
Even now, I harbored some regret.
‘Ah, I should have ended it right there.’
It would have been easier if I’d simply concluded the match without needless posturing.
Though I couldn’t help but feel some regret about that.
‘There’s no helping it.’
Still, I had to do it.
Precisely.
‘I need to verify it now.’
The things I’d obtained from the Closed Sect.
I needed to confirm them clearly at this moment.
A tense instant.
Screech—!
“Hah!”
With a spirited shout, Seo-pyeong’s blade came flying toward me.

* * *
‘Seo-pyeong. You are the future of the Shaman Sect.’
This was what she heard every single day since entering the Shaman Sect.
‘One day, you must even surpass the Sword Saint.’
Words her master had drilled into her until blood ran from her ears.
The Sword Saint—the supreme master of all ages.
She was told she must transcend even him and elevate the Shaman Sect ever higher.
Though she heard such weighty and burdensome words endlessly, the Seo-pyeong of that time paid them no mind.
For she believed without doubt that she could achieve it.
She was a genius.
A genius without peer in the world, hailed as the hope of the Shaman Sect.
She could do it.
She would surpass even the great Sword Saint and become the Heavenly Supreme.
She had lived believing this without the slightest doubt.
The moment her pride shattered was.
Precisely when she attended the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering for the first time.
Even then, Seo-pyeong had maintained her lofty pride.
Within the Shaman Sect, there was no one among her peers who could match her.
And she firmly believed the same would be true of the other disciples at the gathering.
That faith shattered before long.
-Cough…!
Seo-pyeong coughed blood and fell to his knees.
Before him stood a Giant with an expression of disappointment.
Despite his massive frame, his face appeared to belong to a young man of similar age.
He spoke with a hint of regret.
‘What is this? You’re weak?’
‘…!’
‘The Shaman’s Heavenly Sword praised you so highly that I had some expectations. Disappointing.’
The young man who had defeated him—Peng Dojun of the Peng Clan.
This was his evaluation of Seo-pyeong.
‘An ignorant fool. That’s all you are. Well, at least you’re better than that X-Person from the Dang Clan.’
Peng Dojun had already fought Dang Cheon-il of the Dang Clan.
Dang Cheon-il lay motionless on the ground, unconscious as a dead rat.
Seo-pyeong was at least better than him.
He hadn’t collapsed without even enduring a single exchange.
So he was better than that man.
‘…Damn it…!!’
Seo-pyeong couldn’t possibly accept such a thing.
He was a genius of the century.
There should be nothing above him.
How could such people even exist?
Moreover, Peng Dojun, who had toyed with him during their match, had even been defeated by a young girl from Hwasan who appeared far younger.
Heaven above heaven. And above that, heaven once more.
On that day, Seo-pyeong realized his talent was not the greatest.
He also came to understand how vast and heavy were the expectations the Heavenly Sword—the future of the Shamans and their sect leader—placed upon him.
‘…This can’t be real.’
Unbelievable.
Why?
‘Why.’
He did not lack talent.
To prove it, Seo-pyeong belonged to the Seven Prodigies and had demonstrated his talent.
But that was all it amounted to.
Upper tier of the Seven Prodigies.
Peng Dojun, who had trampled him, was called Heuk Taedo and still remained in the upper tier of the Seven Prodigies.
Geombong, who had defeated such a Heuk Taedo, was First Disciple.
Even Wol Muhui, who had never appeared in the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering, had secured a position in the upper tier.
He could not reach that place.
No one called Seo-pyeong a member of the upper tier.
‘Me…?’
Why?
Why couldn’t I be included there?
I was regarded as the most talented of the Shaman sect, called its future.
Even Jang Moonin, the Heavenly Sword himself, said I would inherit the position of future sect leader.
‘Why were you all…’
Was the well so narrow?
Or was the sky too high to see?
Seo-pyeong could not accept reality.
‘Not yet.’
So he wielded his blade. He wielded it with stubborn determination.
He did not give up.
He forged a belief that he could climb even higher.
I will show you all.
What the future of the Shaman sect truly is.
I will prove that I am the greatest.
Seo-pyeong lived for years with that singular conviction.
And the moment to finally prove it had arrived.
This Dragon-Phoenix Gathering was that moment.
To shed the stigma of being called inferior.
To claim the position of most talented. That was why I came to the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering.
‘Did you hear? The Cheongwol Sect managed to participate in this Dragon-Phoenix Gathering.’
‘Ah, yes. And they say the Protagonist himself will attend.’
Grating words reached my ears.
The Protagonist.
Seo-pyeong knew of this figure. How could he not, when this person had been making waves throughout the realm recently.
The Heavenly Supreme and the greatest of all ages.
Geomseong’s Predecessor and a Disciple who had achieved great feats in Sichuan, they said.
Who said it?
-The Protagonist looks down even on the Seven Prodigies.
As long as the Protagonist exists, the most talented is not Geombong but the Protagonist.
A Giant who need not even belong to the Seven Prodigies.
That was the current evaluation of the Protagonist.
Seo-pyeong did not like it.
After striving so hard to prove myself with my own hands.
‘Stealing all my attention?’
More than my own transformation, all attention was stolen by the Protagonist. And yet.
‘Heuk Taedo, Naelyong, and even Geombong—why?’
Why were those monsters showing interest in the Protagonist?
Dok-ryong had his connection from Sichuan and Wol Muhui was from the same sect, so that was understandable.
But these three—I could not comprehend it.
I don’t like this.
‘The Protagonist.’
Geomseong’s Predecessor—someone I said I would surpass one day.
I’ll admit he has a handsome face, but given his frail physique and condition, he could never be truly strong.
Gigam even said so.
‘That man.’
He seemed roughly on par with Dok-ryong at best.
‘I don’t know what tricks he used in the preliminaries.’
Splitting that massive rock?
Seo-pyeong didn’t believe it. Even the legendary Geombong had failed to completely sever it.
The Protagonist succeeded in cutting it in half?
Seo-pyeong didn’t believe it at all.
‘He must have used some trick.’
He must have done something else.
‘I don’t trust you.’
So tear off that ridiculous mask.
Thus.
‘I will imprint upon you who Seo-pyeong of the Shamans is.’
I intended to make it abundantly clear here who Seo-pyeong of the Shamans truly was.
Surely.
That’s what should have happened.
Screeeech—!
Clang—!
“Ugh!”
The incoming blade bounced back, deflected from its path.
Feeling the pressure, Seo-pyeong gritted his teeth and altered his trajectory again.
As he rotated in a semicircle, the sword force that had momentarily vanished surged forth anew.
Clang—!!!
“…!”
Before the sword force could completely overwhelm him, the blade wavered once more.
‘Damn it…!’
Seo-pyeong gritted his teeth.
He shifted his footwork repeatedly, steadying his unstable upper body.
He swung his blade again.
Clang—! Clang clang—!!
His blade continued to be blocked.
Several exchanges.
Dozens of strikes.
He swung relentlessly, yet even with all that effort, his blade never reached its intended target.
Before the blade could reach its destination—or even properly move from its starting point—it was deflected.
‘What…!’
Seo-pyeong exhaled sharply.
How could this be happening?
How was any of this possible?
‘What in the…!’
Why couldn’t I land a single strike?
Seo-pyeong stared at the young man before him—Bangseong-yeon, the Protagonist.
His blue eyes were wide open, pupils darting back and forth.
That gaze swept across every inch of my body.
He made no attempt to conceal his scrutiny.
That was acceptable. Among martial artists, such observation during combat was standard practice.
But.
‘Even so.’
How could I not even swing my sword properly once?
As Seo-pyeong’s face twisted in incomprehension.
“…Ah… recoil… left side…”
Bangseong-yeon whispered in a voice so faint Seo-pyeong couldn’t hear.
“Left side… rotation… wrist inversion… half step back with the feet. If the knee comes forward, then upper body strength. Then the sword’s trajectory would be…”
Repeating it over and over.
Predicting as he watched Seo-pyeong’s body and movements.
Things he had recalled and memorized countless times.
Crack.
Seo-pyeong’s wrist inverted.
His sword moved accordingly.
He glanced at his knee. It bent forward ever so slightly.
His blue eyes flashed.
At this angle, the sword would come in diagonally.
Before Seo-pyeong’s blade could fully erupt.
Bangseong-yeon’s sword moved first.
Clang–!!!
A harsh metallic ring erupted as Seo-pyeong’s sword was knocked upward.
“Ugh!”
The impact that struck his wrist made Seo-pyeong’s breath catch.
My upper body was exposed.
Toward that opening, Bangseong-yeon advanced and unleashed a kick.
Thud-!!
“Gasp!”
Seo-pyeong’s body flew backward as the kick struck his solar plexus directly.
He tumbled across the arena floor, skidding to a stop.
Watching him, Bangseong-yeon thought.
‘This actually works?’
It responds to my will. I smiled at the realization.
The preparation I’d done over these past several days.
Bangseong-yeon’s secret technique was assassination.

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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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