The World’s Greatest is Dead - Chapter 205

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

The Heavenly Supreme Has Died – Episode 205
How was I supposed to handle this?
That question itself was the problem.
At Dokuou’s request, I had to teach Dang Cheon-il how to use Manceon Hwau.
But the most fundamental issue kept getting in the way.
‘…Hmm.’
Dang Cheon-il was inexplicably struggling to master Manceon Hwau.
Well, it was a forgotten secret technique of his clan and called an ultimate art, so the difficulty was certainly not easy.
‘Even accounting for that.’
No matter how many times I repeated the instruction, it remained strangely the same.
‘Why is that?’
Was it a problem with my teaching?
Ah, of course, my explanations had been too broad at times.
I simply told him to infuse each throwing blade with energy and release it.
It was natural that he wouldn’t understand with such a vague instruction.
‘…But I did explain it properly at first.’
I hadn’t started with such reckless explanations from the beginning.
I had actually provided proper instruction initially.
‘Begin the inner energy from your dantian and gather it at your fingertips.’
‘The speed at which the inner energy travels through the meridians doesn’t need to be particularly fast.’
‘In fact, if it’s too fast, control becomes difficult, so maintaining a moderate pace is key.’
‘Since you must infuse all the blades before they’re released, you should eliminate any unnecessary tension in your body during the process, and maintain abdominal tension by holding your breath as much as possible.’
And so on.
Based on what I had felt, I had tried earnestly to teach Dang Cheon-il.
‘…But it didn’t work.’
He ultimately failed to execute Manceon Hwau.
I thought reducing the number of blades might help.
‘But then it wouldn’t be Manceon Hwau.’
A martial technique where blades rain down like precipitation, sweeping across the battlefield.
That was Manceon Hwau, and calling just a handful of blades “rain” was pathetically inadequate.
‘At minimum, seven.’
This was the specific number Yoo Cheon-gil had determined.
The foundation of Manceon Hwau was handling seven throwing blades.
Since that had to be the baseline, I had told Dang Cheon-il to use seven.
Whoosh whoosh whoosh whoosh crack—!!
The blades were released again. This time was no different from before.
Failure.
Dang Cheon-il had failed again, and seeing this, I scratched my cheek and spoke.
“Is this really that difficult…?”
At my unintentional murmur, Dang Cheon-il’s expression crumpled.
The most frustrating part was undoubtedly Dang Cheon-il himself.
Despite considerable time having passed since we began, I felt no sense of him grasping the essence of Manceon Hwau.
And worse still, I was teaching someone who knew absolutely nothing of the Dang Clan’s ultimate techniques.
It was enough to test anyone’s patience.
‘What could I do about it.’
It was not my concern.
His inability was hardly my responsibility.
‘Even I can do it.’
Even I, who possessed no particular talent in martial arts, wielded Manceon Hwau.
Of course, since this appeared to be an arrangement left behind by Dokjon, there was little more to say on the matter.
‘Which is why I’m making such an effort to teach him.’
Since it was not truly mine, I was instructing him as diligently as possible so he might return it to its rightful master.
‘Yet there’s been hardly any progress.’
With no change evident in Dang Cheon-il, my own frustration only deepened.
“…Let’s call it a day for now.”
I spoke while retrieving the scattered flying blades.
The hour had grown far too late. Continuing would serve no purpose.
Besides, I had a martial bout to conduct tomorrow itself.
Though the tournament had been scheduled across two days, with the number of competitors halved, tomorrow would see its conclusion in a single day.
We had already reached the thirty-two strongest.
Whittled down and reduced, only a handful remained.
Since both Dang Cheon-il and I had bouts to fight, it was wise to refrain from intense exertion.
“Let’s head back.”
“…Understood.”
Dang Cheon-il tidied the surroundings with a somewhat dissatisfied expression.
He too seemed frustrated.
I observed him quietly for a moment before organizing the flying blades.
Then I departed for my quarters, seeking rest.

* * *
‘My talent wasn’t bad at all.’
That was the day I received praise. In my childhood, those words intoxicated me, and I wielded my sword like a madman.
‘You surpass your twin brother.’
Wielding my blade with such fervor, I eventually surpassed my twin brother.
I laughed heartily at those words.
I was superior to that man.
Yes, I would become the Lord of the Clan.
With such thoughts, I spent my childhood.
Namgung Seong believed himself to be a genius.
And in truth, he was. He was indeed a genius.
He never fell short when compared to others.
Even within the Namgung Clan, he was called a talent among the finest.
So much so that he was said to possess talent comparable to the Thunderbolt Sword—the previous Lord of the Clan and the one called Celestial Demon.
I would advance thus and lead the Namgung Clan.
That is what I thought.
‘…A prodigy of the ages.’
‘A miracle has occurred in the Namgung Clan.’
The fracture appeared one day.
My twin brother, who had lagged so far behind me.
That man who possessed nothing except a face identical to mine.
He suddenly began to show his presence.
It was truly one day. An ordinary spring day, no different from any other.
The moment my elder brother, Namgung Cheon, awakened to enlightenment and mastered the Namgung Clan’s Thundersteel technique.
The day he combined it with the Spear Dragon Sword and displayed tremendous lightning.
From that day forward, Namgung Seong’s life twisted.
Namgung Cheon, who had been behind me and constantly compared to me, was suddenly ahead.
It marked the beginning of days spent in constant comparison.
There is no hell quite like it.
The moment I fell even slightly behind, the Lord’s gaze changed.
The elders’ expectations turned toward Namgung Cheon.
Because of this.
The bitter frustration and urgency that poured out relentlessly.
Eventually manifested as my hidden inclination.
It began as venting.
And became a craving.
I derived pleasure from watching women who could do nothing in my hands.
I thought it was my only outlet to breathe.
That is what I believed.
‘Yet even that has been destroyed.’
One day, while I waited for an opening to push Namgung Cheon aside, I met him.
That man.
‘The Sword Saint.’
Back then, he wasn’t called the Sword Saint yet—just a lowly member of the Martial Arts Alliance’s Anwhui branch.
The problem was the sudden intelligence that arrived: he had become Geomseong’s Predecessor.
The day I arrived in Anwhui because of Sanchen Gwiin, who had fled with the Dragon-Creating Spear.
That’s when I met him.
I believed that since he was ignorant of the world’s ways, I could use him to my advantage if handled correctly.
But he was nothing like Namgung Seong’s expectations.
‘Ignorant of the world’s ways?’
That was a foolish notion.
He was already worn and weathered by something.
He didn’t fall for my schemes. Instead, he even tried to use me.
And beyond that.
‘How did he possibly know?’
He knew my secrets.
How could he have known?
I had covered my tracks perfectly.
Yet he knew deeply what I had done.
‘I should have killed him.’
I should have eliminated him then.
But I didn’t.
‘…That damned bastard.’
We held a martial duel.
And I lost.
Everything shattered in that moment.
I collapsed helplessly before all those people, and the Dragon-Creating Spear I had fought to reclaim fell into the Lord of the Clan’s hands because of that man’s interference.
From that point on, my position crumbled.
Father. The Lord of the Clan began to turn away from me.
Even the elders who had stood by my side abandoned me for my brother.
My standing collapsed.
The faint hope I barely grasped shattered to pieces.
My mind fractured.
I despised the world, repeating resentment and curses.
‘Somehow… somehow.’
I had to overcome this wretched situation.
To do that, I needed to eliminate the cause of my ruin.
‘I have to eliminate the Sword Saint.’
Starting with him, I wanted to reclaim everything again.
Day and night, I wielded my blade as if possessed by something.
It was solely to defeat that man.
I came to the Yongbong Tournament to face him in combat and claim victory. In doing so, I would reclaim the standing I had lost.
That was Socheongeom’s purpose, his fervent desire.
Whether it was possible, how one might achieve it—
Such considerations never crossed my mind. It felt as though I were possessed by something.
—Kihihihi… hihihihi.
Laughter echoed in my ears.
Flinch.
Namgung Seong’s body trembled. A recent aberration.
He curled up desperately, burying his face against his knees.
—Kihihi… hihihihi.
—Die. Just die. You should die.
—I’ll kill you. I’m going to kill you.
“Go away…! I said go away…!”
A chilling sound pierced through my entire body.
Grinding his teeth, Namgung Seong cried out. Yet the voices continued relentlessly.
—You like having flesh?
—My throat still hurts. It still hurts.
Damned nightmare.
It was all because of that man. Ever since the martial duel with him, it had been like this.
—Do you like it, I’m asking… I’m…
The women’s voices continued to circle around him.
-물어보잖아—!!!!!
“…Gasp!”
Flash—!
Namgung Seong’s eyes snapped open as he jolted upright.
“Cough… hah….”
He clutched his chest, his body trembling. A nightmare.
“Huh… huh….”
Namgung Seong glanced around with a pallid complexion.
A silent, desolate chamber. Only the faint moonlight streaming through cast any illumination.
Feeling its presence, Namgung Seong pressed himself firmly against the wall.
“Gasp… hah….”
His body was already drenched in sweat. He wiped his shoulder with his trembling hand.
“Sigh… sigh….”
Again.
Another nightmare. How many times now? Ever since falling from the Lord of the Clan’s favor, Namgung Seong had been plagued by nightmares every single night.
“…Damned… damned….”
He cursed as memories surfaced. How had he ended up lying here?
It did not take long for Namgung Seong to recall.
‘Ah.’
My eyes snapped open as my face twisted in fury.
“Bangseong-yeon…!”
Crash-!!
I slammed my fist against the bed.
That man. He had interfered with my actions and humiliated me once again.
And on top of that.
“Namgung Cheon….”
Finally, Naelyong Namgung Cheon. That bastard had stepped in and knocked me unconscious.
“I’ll chew them to death…!”
The heat rose to the crown of my head.
Those who had ruined my life had mocked me once more.
That fury consumed every fiber of Namgung Seong’s being.
“How can I do this?”
How could I possibly kill them all?
I wanted to kill them by any means necessary. To eliminate them completely so they would never appear before my eyes again.
I wanted to grind them to dust.
“Damn it… Damn it all….”
Unable to devise a method, I could only vent my rage.
“You seem quite angry.”
“…!”
A voice sounded from directly in front of me. The moment Namgung Seong heard it, my hand shot toward the bedside.
I intended to draw the sword resting there.
Whoosh-!!
The blade was drawn instantly and flew toward the source of the voice.
Tap-!
“…What?”
The sword never reached its destination.
The figure before me had caught the blade between their fingers, stopping it cold.
A master.
Chills ran down Namgung Seong’s spine.
“Who are you….”
Darkness where moonlight could not reach.
A figure stood there, looking down at me.
Our eyes met.
Upon seeing those eyes, Namgung Seong’s heart sank.
Red.
Eyes of such vivid crimson gazed down at me.
“It’s good to see you.”
The figure’s eyes curved like crescents.
“It seems you want something.”
A low voice tinged with laughter.
At those words, Namgung Seong’s body began to tremble slowly.
The killing intent was far too vicious to ignore.
In such a situation.
“What do you think.”
The Figure spoke.
“Should I help you?”
Namgung Seong found those words far too sweet to his ears.

* * *
It was around the time the sun began to rise.
The very day the Thirty-Six Generals Tournament commenced.
Martial bouts to be held from early morning.
Making my way toward the main alliance grounds to prepare for this, I.
“Good morning.”
“…Yes.”
Encountering the Sword Empress whom I had met since early morning, I found myself frowning.

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