The Youngest Son of the Nanyang Jin Family - Chapter 300

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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 Youngest Son of the Jin Family of Luoyang – Chapter 300

“This… what in the—”
Cheong-hyeon’s expression was one of utter disbelief.
The spectacle unfolding before his eyes was something he could never have imagined.
Unlike the match between Namgung Yeon and Cheong-gang, which had displayed an even, tense exchange across a hundred moves, the duel between Jang Chuchyeong and Cheong-un was devastatingly one-sided.
It hadn’t even lasted ten exchanges.
Cheong-un, who had drawn his sword as the second of the Five Masters, crumbled pathetically before Jang Chuchyeong’s overwhelming might, rendering his reputation meaningless.
“…My apologies, Elder Brother.”
Cheong-un, drenched in blood, forced himself to his feet and bowed his head.
Cheong-hyeon’s eyes narrowed sharply.
“…Was it my eyes deceiving me, or did you simply let your guard down?”
“I was careless at first, but… not afterward.”
Cheong-un steadied his trembling breath and answered truthfully.
The situation was simple.
Jang Chuchyeong had perceived in that very first exchange that his opponent was underestimating him.
And he did not miss that opening.
With a thunderous roar, he unleashed an explosive, overwhelming force.
The relentless, merciless assault crushed Cheong-un’s momentum entirely.
By the time he regained his senses, the flow was already broken, his balance shattered to pieces.
This was the result.
Yet that was not the source of his anger.
One could lose in a match.
But to bear the name of the Five Masters and crumble so helplessly before so many disciples, underestimating his opponent—that was the problem.
Cheong-hyeon glared at his younger brother sharply and spoke coldly.
“Reflect deeply on what transpired today.”
“…I shall take it to heart.”
Cheong-un bowed, but the wound of defeat would not fade easily.
Cheong-hyeon exhaled and withdrew his gaze.
The surroundings stirred with tension.
Murmur, murmur—
Whispers passed among the disciples of the Martial Arts Sect, and expressions mingled with disappointment and shock spread throughout.
Their eyes were directed at Cheong-un, but ultimately they converged upon a single figure.
Jang Chuchyeong.
The man of monstrous strength who had trampled the Five Masters with bare hands, without a single sword.
In this moment, awe and fear coexisted in the eyes of the countless disciples who beheld him.
“I… do not fall easily!”
Cheong-hyeon felt the weight of the atmosphere and steeled his resolve.
Soon after, he turned his gaze toward the stage and moved forward slowly.
My steps were not heavy.
Rather, they were light, yet unwavering.
Casting aside all the stray thoughts swirling in my mind, I focused on a single truth.
The opponent before me was Jin Cheon-u, the Golden Dragon.
With each step, he shook the martial world and built legends one by one.
A man whom countless people believed without doubt would claim the title of Sword Emperor.
He stood before me now, alive and breathing.
Cheong-hyeon’s chest burned hot.
This was a moment where even the slightest carelessness could not be afforded.
Yet the hand gripping his sword trembled with anticipation.
This was the instinct of a martial artist.
The thrill and yearning felt when facing a formidable opponent.
‘I want to confirm it.’
Whether he truly deserved the name Golden Dragon.
No—more than that, how far my own sword could reach.
Cheong-hyeon’s eyes gleamed sharply.
The disciples’ murmurs subsided, and the hall fell silent. In that stillness, the gazes of the two met head-on.

* * *

I watched Cheong-hyeon standing on the martial stage intently.
The first of the Five Masters and the senior disciple who had taken Chungho’s place.
His martial skill was not inferior to Hye-myeong’s disciples, and his talent was no less than those called geniuses.
His devotion to the Martial Artist was extreme, and his pride considerable—there was no one else of his caliber in Chungho’s absence.
If there was a weakness to speak of…
Perhaps it was being Hoyeon’s disciple?
Then, was there a connection to Singyeo or not?
That was what I sought to confirm now.
Grasping a wooden sword, I slowly ascended the martial stage.
The expression of the man watching me grew increasingly rigid. Simply standing and facing each other, he seemed to feel an overwhelming difference.
Seeing this, I smiled faintly and cupped my fist in salute.
“I look forward to your guidance, Master Cheong-hyeon.”
“Rather, I should ask for yours. It seems this will not be easy.”
“I heard that Master is a disciple of Martial Arts Master Ho-yeon. With such a master’s teachings, your martial arts would surely not fall short of mine, so there is no need for modesty.”
Was something strange about my words?
Cheong-hyeon wore a bitter smile, and the faces of the other Four Masters and disciples bore expressions of bewilderment.
Perhaps because of this, an odd silence hung over the hall, but soon Cheong-hyeon, as if to change the atmosphere, looked at me and raised his sword.
“I come!”
A resolute tone and sharp words.
Blazing eyes and fiercely soaring momentum.
In that moment when I narrowed my eyes at him, sensing a quality entirely different from the Martial Artist’s foundation of softness.
Whoosh—!
The wooden sword moved.
Swift, sharp, and remarkably precise.
Like the others, he unfolded an intricate Taiji sword technique to press forward, yet what was strange was how vastly different it felt from the Martial Artist’s approach.
The Martial Artist emphasizes softness, yet Cheong-hyeon moved with sharpness and speed that surpassed gentleness.
Clang clang clang—!
I parried the strikes while my thoughts raced.
This differed fundamentally from Hoyeon’s martial prowess.
I recalled that even he, when employing the Martial Artist’s techniques rather than Singyeo’s arts, had emphasized softness like the others.
But Cheong-hyeon was different.
So much so that one could hardly believe he had Hoyeon as his master.
Whoosh whoosh—!
A blade infused with the essence of the Taiji sword technique and sharp intent sliced past my face.
“Uwaaa—!”
“Master! You can do this!”
Was it because of that?
Thunderous cheers erupted from all around.
As if Cheong-hyeon had absorbed the very spirit of the Martial Artist, he gritted his teeth and began moving with renewed vigor, his sword—devoid of softness—piercing deeper into my guard with ever-sharper intent.
Whoosh—!
Then, swift as lightning, his blade slashed across my collar.
—Uwaaaaaa!
It was merely my collar, yet the reaction far exceeded expectations—as if he were venting the frustration of his loss to Jang Chuchyeong, or perhaps displaying the Martial Artist’s pride itself.
The roaring cheers continued without pause, making it impossible to tell whether this was the Martial Artist or a festival ground.
“Land a blow!”
“Young Master! You can do it!”
“We believe you’ll win!”
As if refusing to be outdone, Chaeseoha, Jang Chuchyeong, and Namgung Yeon raised their voices in support of me.
Without realizing it, I wore a bitter smile as I regarded Cheong-hyeon.
Gritting his teeth, he was utterly desperate.
As if determined to have his existence acknowledged at any cost.
Watching him, I became certain of one truth.
After losing Chungho, Hoyeon had taken a disciple but never truly taught him.
His aptitude fell short compared to Chungho, which must have been unsatisfying, and coupled with a temperament ill-suited to gentleness, the Martial Artist’s sword simply did not fit him.
In such circumstances, Cheong-hyeon had found his own breakthrough.
Unwilling to abandon the Martial Artist, he had discovered his own path forward while wielding its sword.
Was that sharpness?
Tae-hwang could not be unaware of this, yet the fact that he merely watched suggested Cheong-hyeon’s choice was not wrong.
Moreover, nowhere in the swinging sword or its aura could I detect the taint of Singyeo, so I need not worry on that account.
I gripped the wooden sword firmly.
Kwaaaack—
“…!?”
In that same instant, a formidable aura erupted outward in all directions.
Like a tidal wave of earthquakes crashing down without warning, an overwhelming force seized control of the surroundings—something no mortal could withstand.
“Gasp?!”
“Ugh!”
The disciples who had been cheering fell silent in an instant, and Cheong-hyeon, who had been about to extend his sword toward me, stumbled backward in shock.
Judging by the profuse cold sweat streaming down his face, even taking a single step seemed impossible under such crushing pressure.
I narrowed my eyes and advanced with measured steps.
Whoosh—!
With each step forward I took, Cheong-hyeon retreated one step back.
He was straining with all his might to overcome the mounting terror and dread, yet it was far from easy—his breathing came in ragged gasps as cold sweat poured down his face.
“Ugh… gasp!”
It was an aura so overwhelming that fainting would have been unsurprising.
As I took another step forward, intensifying the pressure—
“Krhk—!”
Suddenly, Cheong-hyeon bit down hard on his lip.
Blood flowed from the sharp pain, yet through that agony, he seemed to break free from the oppressive force—his eyes regained their focus.
I found myself laughing involuntarily in surprise.
“Uaaaaaaah—!”
Cheong-hyeon unleashed a frenzied scream as he drew upon his inner reserves. Channeling everything into his sword until his dantian was completely drained, the principles of the Tai Chi erupted toward me in a tempestuous surge.

Tai Chi Wisdom Sword.

The Martial Artist’s supreme sword technique.
Though not yet perfected, what it contained was far from negligible.
Watching it, I too moved my wooden sword.
I captured a colossal tidal wave within my blade and swallowed it whole in a single breath.
So overwhelming was the force it carried that even the principles of Tai Chi could find no purchase—it completely shattered the extending radiant sword and consumed Cheong-hyeon.
Whoooosh—!
“Ugh!”
Cheong-hyeon’s body, engulfed by the tidal wave, was sent flying helplessly through the air before crashing down. His torn robes scattered like rain, and violent gasps escaped his lips, echoing through the chamber.
Thud—!
“S-Senior—!”
Seeing Cheong-hyeon sprawled motionless on the ground, Cheongdam rushed over to examine him.
After checking his pulse to confirm his condition, he exhaled a breath of relief and turned to look at me.
“…Wasn’t that a bit excessive?”
“Cough… It’s fine, Priest. …Step back.”
Cheongdam, his complexion ashen, looked at me in disbelief before asking, but Cheong-hyeon, regaining his senses, blocked him and struggled to rise to his feet.
Wobble—!
However, strength seemed reluctant to return to his body, and he continued to stagger until Cheongdam, standing beside him, helped support him so he could finally stand properly.
It was a testament to how severe the impact had been.
I smiled bitterly.
“Are you alright?”
“Ha… Ha ha, do I look alright? There’s not a single place that doesn’t hurt—I feel like I’m dying.”
Cheong-hyeon wiped away the cold sweat dripping from his forehead and caught his breath. Then, recalling the technique from moments before, his eyes filled with utter disbelief.
“What exactly was that you showed us? It was as if a tidal wave itself was crashing down upon me.”
“That’s precisely what it was.”
“…What?!”
“Gasp!”
In that instant, exclamations of shock erupted from all around.
To model a technique after a tidal wave meant capturing nature itself within the blade. Knowing full well this was no simple feat, everyone wore expressions of utter disbelief.
“To capture nature within a sword… Young Master, was such a thing even possible?”
“I’ve heard of it, but this is the first time I’ve actually seen someone capable of it. Ha….”
Not only Cheong-hyeon but Cheongdam as well could not hide their astonishment.
For I had demonstrated something utterly impossible.
I smiled faintly.
“I’m glad if it proved helpful.”
“Ha ha, it will certainly be helpful! I’m truly grateful! In all my years, I’ve never witnessed or experienced anything like this.”
Cheong-hyeon, eyes gleaming brighter than anyone else’s, broke into a broad grin.
Though there might be nothing he could gain immediately, he was certain he could at least find a small path forward in the sword he had been cultivating.
Sure enough, Cheong-hyeon seemed to be continuously replaying that scene in his mind.
“Senior! I’ll guide the Young Master and his companions, so please return and receive treatment and rest.”
“Ah—yes, that would be best.”
Cheongdam’s words pulled Cheong-hyeon from his reverie, and he nodded.
Beyond his disheveled appearance, he seemed eager to contemplate more deeply the scene painted in his mind. Perhaps for that reason, he offered me a light greeting before hastily taking his leave.
I watched his retreating figure for a moment and smiled.
Then I turned my gaze toward Cheongdam.
“Let us proceed. I have no desire to remain a spectacle any longer.”
“Ha, haha, yes! Then I shall guide you to the guest pavilion!”
As Cheongdam answered with vigor and nodded, I committed his expression to memory before naturally shifting my gaze toward one section of the Martial Artist’s compound.
Among the countless halls and pavilions, one place stood out distinctly.
Moreover, unlike other locations, no presence of people could be sensed there.
That was none other than the Purple Empyrean Palace of the Martial Artist.
The dwelling place of Hoyeon.
After gazing at it briefly, a small smile accompanied my shifting gaze.

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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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