The World’s Greatest is Dead - Chapter 383

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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 383
A blade approaches.
I narrowed my eyes at the incoming sword. My body was already reacting. My feet shifted, carrying me backward.
Half a step’s distance. As that gap widened, I drew my upper body back as well.
Crack—!!
The sword strike grazes past me. Had I been even slightly slower, I would have been cut.
My hand moves toward my waist. I drew the Divine Sword in one fluid motion.
Whoosh—!
I feel the killing intent. My eyes open fully. Wol-an blazes with light. The opponent’s sword paths enter my vision.
‘What?’
My eyes widen the moment I see them. So many sword paths? An unexpected number. I faltered. That many blades…
‘I’ve only seen this when facing Sochul Daeju or absolute masters.’
The Sword Emperor, by contrast, barely showed any sword paths at all.
This many sword paths could only be seen from those who had reached an extraordinary realm.
‘What is this man?’
What could this young man be? I swung my blade with narrowed eyes.
Screech—!!!
The blades clashed. I found and blocked one path among countless others.
‘A direct hit.’
The lines were so opaque it was difficult to choose even one. It was precarious.
“Oh.”
The young man exhales a short exclamation, as if surprised that I blocked it.
Look at this bastard.
What a pathetic reaction.
I pour strength into my feet. Without it, I was being pushed back gradually. The pressure from the clashing blades was formidable.
Firm.
After channeling strength forcefully through my thighs.
“Hss.”
I steadied my breathing and drew up my energy.
Boom—!!!
I gathered the power of my deep cultivation into my body. The momentum erupting from my dantian surged through my meridians.
I concentrated it all into a single point. Without missing the moment, I gave my all to create an opening.
Crash—!!
The concentrated sword strike flicked his blade away.
“…!”
Surprise flashes across the young man’s eyes. The momentum-infused offensive created a gap in his defense.
‘Now.’
I didn’t hesitate. I recalled the killing intent that had come at me earlier.
Since I had no intention of retreating either, I brought my blade down without pause.
Night Moon.
I attempted to strike the man down from the night sky.
“Ha ha.”
A brief laugh escaped him.
“How entertaining.”
Boom—!
“…Ugh!?”
He raised his blade and shattered my Nocturnal Moon technique. The air pressure exploded, and my stance crumbled. When did he—?
‘When—’
When did he recover his stance? It was clearly broken just moments ago. My hands were tingling. To dismantle martial arts in such a manner.
‘This is…’
Remarkably similar to Yoo Cheon-gil’s method. That old man had done the same thing.
I stumbled backward, pushed away. I tried to resist the momentum, but I was already being driven back in an instant.
That was when.
“This isn’t it.”
Along with a murmur of dissatisfaction, a sharp crack—!
“Gasp!”
The man kicked my chest and sent me flying backward. I skidded back and dropped to one knee.
Clutching my chest and catching my breath.
“Why aren’t you using it?”
“…What…?”
The young man posed a question to me.
“The seasonal technique the Sword Saint left behind. I’m asking why you don’t use it.”
A seasonal technique left by the Sword Saint? Could it be.
“…Are you referring to Wol Cheon?”
“Oh, that’s what it’s called?”
The young man smiled broadly upon hearing the name.
“Not a bad name.”
His smile was unsettling somehow. An inexplicable sensation. What is this damnable feeling? Who exactly is this man?
While I still clutched my aching chest.
“…Senior Brother…!”
Cheon Euijin intervened. He stepped between me and the young man, his eyes tense as he addressed him.
“What is the meaning of this sudden attack…!”
“Oh… who is this.”
The young man grinned widely upon seeing Cheon Euijin.
“Isn’t this our Priest Cheon? It’s been a while.”
Priest. Senior Brother.
From those words, I could discern their relationship. At least he appears to be someone from the Cheongwol Sect.
Of course. I could tell that much at a glance.
‘Because he possesses Wol-an.’
He wears the martial robes of Sowoldae along with Wol-an. That alone tells me he’s a master of the Cheongwol Sect.
‘…Who is that?’
I’m seeing this figure for the first time. Since arriving at the Cheongwol Sect, I’ve verified every person who came and went. I’d never encountered anyone like this.
Which meant.
‘Someone who operated externally.’
A figure who had been active outside the sect for an extended period.
‘There are exactly three such individuals.’
Three beings were stationed outside the sect on long-term assignments.
Among them.
‘Someone in that age range.’
Appearance suggesting he’d just passed thirty. His demeanor didn’t make him seem particularly young either.
Observing this, I deduced a figure in my mind.
‘…Is it him?’
Someone I knew of but had never actually mentioned.
Wol Muhui of the Cheongwol Sect is a renowned genius.
But aside from Wol Muhui, there were plenty of other masters known to be skilled within the Cheongwol Sect.
Among them.
‘Exactly one person.’
Someone famous in the opposite way I was—renowned by reputation, yet not particularly conspicuous in practice.
His epithet was probably.
“…Silver Moon Sword.”
“Oh.”
The young man responds to my words.
“You know of me.”
The young man laughed as if confirming my guess.
The young man’s identity was Silver Moon Sword Yoo Yul.
Just as I was called Geomseong’s Predecessor and disciple.
He was known as the disciple of Wol Seon-geom.

* * *
A disciple of Wol Seon-geom.
Wol Seon-geom, the current leader of the Cheongwol Sect, could have called all members of the entire sect his disciples.
Even setting that aside, he could have referred to Cheon Euijin and Cheonhye-in, his own blood relatives, as disciples.
Yet Wol Seon-geom had never directly called those two or the other disciples by that title.
It was partly due to the formality of sect structure, and even with blood relations, he had never bothered to express it that way.
‘Only one.’
Among countless others, there was only one.
A person whom Wol Seon-geom had directly mentioned as his disciple.
That was Yoo Yul, known as the Silver Sword.
He had just passed twenty years of age, with eyes that seemed perpetually half-closed, as if uncertain whether they were open or shut.
Like Cheon Euijin and Cheonhye-in, he was a second-generation disciple belonging to Sowoldae and a martial artist.
Of course, Wol-an was in an open state.
The azure eyes that had seemed so clear during our earlier fight were now closed, making them difficult to see properly.
“I’ve returned.”
Yoo Yul spoke with a smile. At his words, Wol Seon-geom looked at him.
“You’ve come.”
“Yes, Mentor. Your disciple has arrived.”
Wol Seon-geom showed no particular reaction upon seeing Yoo Yul appear, as if he had known he would arrive around this time.
“How many years has it been? It seems like roughly three years.”
Three years. The time Yoo Yul had spent away from the sect.
“I haven’t yet met the Sochul Daeju, but from the rumors I’ve heard during this time, it seems much has transpired.”
“Indeed, quite a bit has happened. However.”
Wol Seon-geom’s gaze shifted from Yoo Yul to me.
“Upon arriving, you’ve already stirred up trouble.”
“Ah.”
At those words, Yoo Yul turned to look at me.
“Yes. It seemed interesting, you see.”
“Interesting?”
“I was so curious. They say the Geomseong’s Predecessor has appeared… I was so busy I couldn’t come, and the curiosity was driving me mad.”
“So upon arriving, you stirred up trouble?”
“Trouble? We merely exchanged techniques between fellow sect members. Isn’t that right?”
….
At Yoo Yul’s words, I furrowed my brow deeply.
What is this man?
‘This is uncomfortable.’
Strangely so. No, actually quite uncomfortable. It wasn’t so much his manner of speaking.
‘The atmosphere feels uncomfortable.’
What is this sensation? A familiar discomfort clung to me.
Though I couldn’t quite grasp it at the moment.
“Hmm, is that not it?”
Yoo Yul shrugs his shoulders.
“Yoo Yul.”
“Ah, yes, Mentor.”
“Don’t you think there’s a problem with prioritizing something other than reporting?”
Wol Seon-geom asks with a somewhat cold gaze, and only then does Yoo Yul wear an awkward expression.
“My apologies. Your disciple lacked foresight.”
“I will punish you for this matter later.”
“Understood.”
“I called you to ask about the martial contest, but since there seem to be no issues with our accounts, you may withdraw, Bang Disciple.”
“…Understood.”
Since I’d explained the situation hastily, I try to send him out first. The moment I nod and turn around.
“Let’s meet again next time.”
Yoo Yul bids me farewell.
‘…This one and that one too.’
I couldn’t understand why they kept saying they’d see me again.

* * *
Shortly after Bangseong-yeon leaves, only the two of us remain in the room. Wol Seon-geom breaks the heavy silence and speaks to Yoo Yul.
“What did you do.”
A different, colder tone than before. Hearing this, Yoo Yul shrugs his shoulders.
“I told you. I was genuinely curious.”
About this person called Geomseong’s Predecessor.
What kind of existence could he be, so I decided to pick a fight once.
“I was taken aback that he was worse than expected. Mentor. Is that friend truly the Sword Saint’s disciple?”
Disappointing. That was Yoo Yul’s first impression of Bangseong-yeon.
“I had high expectations when I heard blood coming from my ears upon returning.”
Wol-hyeop, the hero who saved Sacheon and Hannam.
The reincarnation of the Sword Saint.
And even that something.
“The youngest League Leader candidate?”
New candidates selected after Shin Chang stepped down from the League Leader position. That friend was apparently among them.
Hearing this, how absurd it was.
“Could it be that Mentor used some trick-”
Whoosh.
“Oh.”
With a sharp sound, a strand of Yoo Yul’s hair is slightly cut away. Feeling this, cold sweat flows down Yoo Yul’s cheek.
‘I didn’t see it.’
He hadn’t even drawn a sword. Wol Seon-geom merely looked, yet such a thing occurred.
“If you’re uncomfortable, speak with words. Or will you cut off your disciple’s neck?”
“Do not overstep your bounds. The title of disciple is not so lofty as to protect you from such transgressions.”
“Yes, I understand well enough. Still, couldn’t you overlook it just this once? After all these years of striving to heed your words, surely I’ve earned some leniency.”
“I know.”
“Then—”
“Because I know, I’m stopping you here.”
“….”
Yoo Yul fell silent at those words. Any further protest would surely earn him a severe reprimand.
In any case, my mentor had always been a fearsome figure.
‘I mustn’t say another word.’
The mysterious technique of the previous Moonju—the one who became known as the Reincarnation of the Sword Saint.
I had wanted to ask about that as well, but it seemed I would have no such opportunity.
‘Something.’
My mentor appeared quite concerned about this person.
‘What could he possess?’
Setting aside his handsome appearance, what else did he have at first glance?
He certainly possessed talent beyond his years, yet compared to the rumors, he fell woefully short.
‘Hmm.’
Which made it all the more intriguing—as if he were concealing something.
Just then.
“Yoo Yul.”
Wol Seon-geom called out to Yoo Yul, whose half-closed eyes opened slightly at the summons.
“Yes. What is your command?”
“How goes the task?”
“Ah.”
Straight to business, then. I had to stifle a laugh at that.
“The competition for the Sochul Daeju position will begin soon. Yet you ask about the task immediately….”
“There will be no second chances.”
“Understood.”
Recognizing this was no time for levity, Yoo Yul replied earnestly.
“Here it is.”
He produced a letter and handed it to Wol Seon-geom.
“As you requested.”
This was.
“The records of the Four Kings that were hidden in Guiseong Mountain.”
It contained the fruits of Yoo Yul’s labor over the past three years.

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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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