The World’s Greatest is Dead - Chapter 562

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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 562
Perfect memory is not a gift blessed with only virtues.
Because I remember everything I’ve seen, all that I’ve felt seems as though it happened yesterday.
No—it feels even more immediate than that, as if it occurred mere moments ago.
Is it not said that forgetting is a blessing for mankind?
Then surely its opposite deserves to be called a curse.
I am proof of this. I have never lived a day thinking it anything but a curse.
It’s not that there are no benefits, but the harms far outweigh them.
This is simply the nature of humanity.
We remember only the terrible things, and sorrows resurface endlessly.
This is no different for me.
The bad lingers without end, never fading, surfacing countless times. What else could this be but a curse?
Each time, I expel my anguish while feeling as though I might retch.
I live each day consumed by such thoughts. Each day is a descent into hell itself.
‘Yes, it is hell.’
I know because I have lived it. I understand because I have endured it.
This is hell.
So the first thing I demanded of the organization was to lock this cursed thing away.
I chose to erase certain bundled memories.
Reducing hell, bit by bit.
That is how I have survived until now.
‘It’s been a while.’
It has been long since I’ve encountered one like this. The gaze of the Heavenly Sword, his mannerisms, the way he moves—all of it.
It felt oddly familiar.
‘This one too.’
I wondered if he possessed perfect memory as well, but something told me that wasn’t quite it. Rather.
‘He specializes in memorizing and executing.’
I could feel it. I watched him carefully as he absorbed my movements. This man.
‘He’s extracting something from me.’
I can see him trying to memorize my actions. That’s why he doesn’t hold his sword properly, why his movements lack precision.
“…Ha.”
The corners of my expressionless mouth lift slightly.
“Truly amusing. How did you know?”
“I’ve experienced a few things—”
Never mind that.
“Then show me.”
“Hmm?”
“Take what you can—show me what you’re able to.”
I was curious.
‘Because I cannot mimic.’
Seeing something and acting upon it are two different things. I can learn what I see, but mimicry is another matter entirely.
Of course. Mimicking actions alone is difficult enough, but martial arts? One must grasp the flow of inner energy, its density, even the speed at which it moves. How could anyone mimic that? The slightest mistake in martial arts mimicry can lead to demonic possession—that’s how perilous it is.
And besides.
‘How would one even mimic the core cultivation method.’
I possess a unique constitution. Even Yoo Cheon-gil and the Celestial Demon acknowledged this fact. Given such circumstances, using Magi and other techniques is plausible enough, but.
‘This man?’
I’m curious to see how he manages it.
So then.
“Give it a try.”
I draw my sword and point it directly at him. Just like that.
Crackle—!!!
I unleash my energy using Wol Cheon. I gather the energy upward and prepare myself.
‘How far can he go.’
Can his mimicry absorb even Yoo Cheon-gil’s martial arts? And moreover.
‘That as well.’
I wanted to see the sword that Woon-ryong witnessed. Just how similar was it? Whose sword was it, after all.
I anticipate he won’t change his core cultivation method—
But will there truly be something contained within it.
With this intention, I press forward aggressively.
I immediately prepare Daewol.
I carve into the sword path while observing the Heavenly Sword’s movements.
Clang—!!
I thrust with a single strike, but he rotates as if brushing past it. Using the acceleration I imparted, he instead channels the recoil and deflects it away.
Ting—! The sword rises skyward. Seeing him defend and counterattack, my eyes widen.
Look at that. This is.
‘The Shaman’s sword.’
It was the distinctive sword technique used by the Shaman. Familiar. I’ve seen it countless times while learning Woon-ryong’s sword.
And in the Heavenly Sword’s blade, I saw Woon-ryong’s sword.
Look at that.
“You’re showing it?”
“You want to show it?”
“Good. Try more.”
Crackle—!! I increase my speed and press in harder.
I thrust my sword forward.
Even if the recoil throws me off balance and my grip loosens, I can regain it. If my speed slows? I force it through with raw energy.
“Ha!”
At my action, the Heavenly Sword clicks his tongue.
“For someone who looks like that, you fight quite brutishly.”
“Violence is inherently brutal, you fool.”
“That’s also a fair point.”
Clang—clang—clang!!! Blade scrapes against blade. As I watch them rebound, understanding dawns. This man. He’s not merely mimicking the motions of martial arts.
‘The energy I feel mirrors it too.’
He wasn’t attempting to replicate my inner cultivation completely—far from it. Instead, he drew forth a resonant energy from his own martial techniques that echoed mine. It was more like meticulous refinement, constantly reshaping and adjusting.
Molding it so it could blend into his movements. That was his method—lending power to the mimicry itself.
‘This is monstrous too.’
It’s equally absurd. The fact that mimicry gains strength through this. Is this man truly the Heavenly Sword?
‘A blade bestowed by heaven, they say.’
Now I understand what it means to be granted such talent.
‘Show me more.’
I’m delighted.
‘Because he’s treated similarly to how I am.’
I thrust my blade forward. Wanting to see what else he can do. Despite my initial dislike of him, I find myself curious.
I press in closer.
“Can you replicate mine as well?”
I hope he can.
If he could, then Yoo Cheon-gil—that old man would surely be delighted. Ah, but what would his actual reaction be?
Would he be shocked that I can mimic him? Or would he despise it? Either way, I don’t care. I’d love to see him squirm.
That mad old man has done so much to me. I’d be thrilled if he experienced the same.
As I advance with growing excitement, I notice the Heavenly Sword’s expression growing darker.
“…That’s curious.”
The Heavenly Sword speaks while blocking my blade.
“What’s curious about it?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t fear me.”
“Fear? Why would I?”
“Most people always do, naturally.”
Screech—the blade trajectory shifts again. The sensation feels peculiar. I sense something familiar, yet it’s also entirely new. But what matters most is that this feeling is completely different from before when he mimicked Woon-ryong’s sword technique.
It feels as though he’s become an entirely different person.
Fascinating.
Boom—! Clang—clang—clang!!!
The speed intensifies. Whose sword is this? While wielding all of these simultaneously.
‘The sword’s essence changes.’
I even see the color and quality of the sword’s essence shifting. This is truly remarkable.
One.
“Ugh!”
I’m pushed back in strength. I’m unsure if this is the limit of mimicry or something else.
So I ask.
“Don’t you have the original? Is this all the power you can use?”
“….”
At my observation, the Heavenly Sword’s expression darkens. My words seem to have wounded his pride.
What does it matter if I’m injured? So what?
“Show me then.”
Show me something real.
That’s all there is to it, isn’t there? I smile and push my speed even higher.
“…I don’t know why. You look excited. I don’t understand it.”
“You don’t need to understand. I was never normal to begin with.”
Daewol.
First strike, second strike, third strike, fourth strike.
I surpass the fifth strike without hesitation.
“Try to follow.”
So that old man can eat his words. A challenge to see if he can match it.
As I bore in with what seemed like madness, I notice the Heavenly Sword hesitate instead. Try? Why aren’t you trying?
I keep pointing it out, again and again. But why really isn’t he trying? I watch the Heavenly Sword in confusion. His reaction was strange. I could see him attempting something, then stopping.
Ah. Could it be.
“Can’t you follow?”
“…”
That seems to be it.
“Why?”
I ask in bewilderment.
“Can’t you use this sword style too?”
“…How did you know that?”
The Heavenly Sword hesitates at my question. How did I know? Well, how else.
“I heard it from our Subordinate.”
“…Ah. You mean that Shaman’s wandering swordsman.”
“Wandering swordsman… Well, roughly speaking, yes.”
His temperament is oddly unbecoming of a Shaman, which is why. Strictly speaking, he’s a wandering swordsman.
“What did he say about it?”
“What could he say? He said my sword was similar to yours.”
“He expressed it that simply?”
“It’s simple, but there’s no more accurate description than that. So try it. Can you really use the Cheongwol Sect Sword style too?”
“…Hmm.”
At those words, the Heavenly Sword pauses, then swings his blade.
Crack—!
Sword energy accumulated. That accumulated energy truly resembled the sword style used by the Cheongwol Sect.
However.
‘It’s not mine.’
It’s not mine. To be precise, it’s different from Yoo Cheon-gil’s sword. It looked like the true Cheongwol Sect Sword.
Then a familiar sword comes flying at me.
‘Wolrang?’
A crescent moon slashes toward me. Seeing it, I twist my waist. He’s trying to meet me with the same sword style.
Wolrang.
Crescent blades colliding against each other.
Crack!!
The Heavenly Sword’s crescent shattered. The power behind them was fundamentally different.
“As expected.”
The Heavenly Sword reacted upon witnessing it.
“It’s different.”
Different indeed. In quality, in form, everything was different. Yoo Cheon-gil’s martial arts surpassed all of the Cheongwol Sect’s techniques and internal cultivation methods.
‘I don’t know how he learned the Cheongwol Sect’s martial arts.’
But I could tell that my techniques held the advantage. Moreover.
‘He can’t even replicate it?’
He couldn’t replicate it. That was the problem.
‘Ah, that old man would be delighted.’
It seemed imitation was impossible. So that must be why the Heavenly Sword reacted that way.
Ah, what a shame.
Crash—!
The Heavenly Sword was sent flying back. He planted his feet and brushed off his blade.
“…This is something. Not only did you notice, but I never imagined there would be someone who couldn’t learn it. How on earth did you figure it out?”
“Watch long enough, and things become visible.”
“Do you possess the eyes of a Deity or something?”
“Well…”
Eyes of a Deity. That’s roughly similar.
I’d heard such words spoken once, long ago.
-You possess the mind and eyes bestowed by the Deity.
-What does that mean?
-You’re not human, you bastard.
-…You certainly know how to give compliments.
It didn’t sound like praise, but regardless.
“Is that all there is? That can’t be it.”
I spoke while pointing my blade’s tip toward him.
“Show me more. I believe this isn’t where it ends.”
“Your faith in me is strange, isn’t it? Our relationship shouldn’t have been good?”
“Relationships can change anytime. And right now, it’s not particularly good either.”
“That’s true…Hmm.”
He nodded slightly.
“It’s a shame. This was meant to be shown to the Young Master, not you…”
“What?”
After saying that, the Heavenly Sword lowered his blade. I watched as he released the tension from his stance.
Whoosh.
‘Hm?’
Energy surged upward. I could see the concentrated force gathering along the blade. What was that? Crimson-violet?
A color I’d never seen before. At first glance.
‘Magi….’
It resembled Magi?
It was an aura similar to Magi.
As I stared at it.
A chill ran down my spine.
‘Wait.’
Goosebumps erupted across my back. The force the Heavenly Sword was gathering resembled something. Was this another imitation? Even if it was imitation, it seemed to fit. But what mattered was.
‘That.’
It was a power I recognized. It had to be. I’d just used it moments ago.
This was.
[Look at this?]
‘…Celestial Demon Divine Art?’
The Celestial Demon and I reacted simultaneously.
Celestial Demon Divine Art.
The Heavenly Sword’s blade resembled it precisely.

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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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