Namgung Hyeong looked down with arrogant poise and spoke.

Soyak quietly lowered her head.

She must not stand out.

Not now—not yet. This is not the time to bare the Heaven-Toppling design to the world.

"Yes. I am Cheonjeong, Head Senior among the Third Generation. I pay my respects to the Clan Lord of the Namgung Clan."

Cheonjeong stepped in front of Soyak, offered the cupped-fist salute, and answered.

The crease between Namgung Hyeong’s brows seemed to ease a little.

"A child sound in the rites. Do you know who I am?"

"If you are the one of the Namgung Clan arriving in a four-horse carriage, I thought there could be only one."

"Quick in the head. Right. I am the Clan Lord, Namgung Hyeong."

"It is an honor to meet you."

Courtesies spoken in a calm voice—empty finery.

Yet that is also treatment and respect for the other side.

Only, his son Namgung Seon seemed to have no interest in any of that.

If anything—

From behind Cheonjeong, he turned his gaze to Soyak, who kept her head bowed in silence.

As if trying not to meet his eyes.

In one sense, merely an ordinary Third-Generation disciple of Mount Hua.

No more than a small, frail-bodied girl of no account.

But not to Namgung Seon.

Because he saw nothing.

'…Huh?'

It was the first time.

It was not that a gap in realms made her invisible.

Right there before his eyes, everything of that girl showed only as black, like an endless mire.

Like a cold bottomless pit in the heart of hell, with even the flames gone out.

"This is my son, Namgung Seon. Offer your greeting."

Even at his father’s words, Namgung Seon could not take his eyes off Soyak.

Overwhelming fascination.

A fighting spirit he had not felt once in sixteen years flared.

"…Seon."

"Ah—yes. I’m Namgung Seon. I look forward to your guidance."

He extended his hand.

Cheonjeong, even as he quietly took it, noticed that the boy’s eyes were not on him.

Two eyes fixed on Cheon Soyak behind him.

An instinctive warning rang in his head.

"…It seems you have an interest in my junior sister."

A warning to drop that interest.

Only then did Namgung Seon’s eyes turn to Cheonjeong.

He smiled faintly.

But arrogance hung from the corner of his lips.

"Yes. I do have an interest."

"My junior sister is a Daoist of Mount Hua."

Behind him, Soyak blinked.

As Head Senior was speaking, it was not her turn to step in.

But she thought she understood how the situation was turning.

Only, there was no opening to cut in.

Because Namgung Hyeong was looking at her.

"Mount Hua has a prodigy."

He was Clan Lord of the Namgung Clan, direct blood of the Sword Sovereign who reigns over the world.

For him to acknowledge a martial artist of another sect or house—

It meant that one was the genuine article.

To this day, only one person had been called a prodigy by his mouth.

His own son, Namgung Seon—considering that he bears the Heaven-Forged Body, the standard is lofty beyond measure.

"Is that so, Father?"

"Yes. You will end up crossing blades in a spar with this child."

At the word spar, Soyak tilted her head.

"You have not been at Mount Hua long."

"Yes. That is so."

She answered with her eyes lowered.

Namgung Seon, on the contrary, could not help a small laugh from slipping out.

His father had called that girl a prodigy.

He had set her on the same height as himself.

But no.

That girl is—something wearing the shape of a human.

Namgung Seon saw it at once.

Having stepped into the rank of an Apex master in his mid-teens, he could see it.

That she was not a being to be qualified with ‘young genius’ or the like.

"Why do you laugh, Seon?"

"Ah… because I’m looking forward to it."

"Looking forward to it?"

Namgung Hyeong asked back in puzzlement.

He was a boy who had never taken interest in a spar with a peer.

Even if Mount Hua had a Third-Generation disciple at the very brink of first-rate, it was the same.

"Yes. I think it will be a fun match."

At last Soyak could not hold back and opened her mouth again.

"When you say a spar…"

"Have you not heard? By the Alliance Leader, the Sword Sovereign’s consideration, the winner of the One-Branch Gathering will hold a friendly spar with the Namgung Clan."

"…I did not hear. No such words were spoken to me."

"It seems the Sect Leader has not given a separate notice."

For what reason he had not told the disciples, she did not know.

But the inside story was, in the end, Mount Hua’s internal affair.

It was not something for her to touch or interfere with.

"You did not come down to the foot of the mountain to greet us. What brought you down here?"

"I thought to put some of Huaeum County’s fare into my junior sister’s hands."

"You have a good senior."

Soyak quietly bowed her head again.

But her gaze was turned to Namgung Seon.

With those eyes that were black, empty, like an endless mire.

"Father."

"What is it, Seon?"

"May I also ease my road weariness down here for a bit?"

Namgung Hyeong narrowed his eyes.

But his son showed no sign of fear.

That confidence that could be called arrogant.

Yet the inborn quality and the training he has piled up make it fitting.

Above all, has his son ever taken this much interest in another?

He always smiles and lets things slide with a laugh, but he never goes first.

Especially, that feeling rippling in those eyes—

It is surely a fighting spirit.

Not even himself, but the look he has when he sees his grandfather, the Sword Sovereign.

"…There is a condition."

"What is it?"

"Even if you go about amusing yourself, you are confident you will win the spar this time, aren’t you."

Namgung Seon nodded as if it were only natural and answered.

"Of course, Father."

"Good. Do so. Your name was Cheonjeong, was it? Would it be all right to leave my son in your care?"

"I will attend him with all sincerity."

Namgung Hyeong shook his head.

In a low voice, he spoke to Cheonjeong while looking at his son.

"No need to attend him. Just treat him as you would a peer. I have no mind to burden you."

"I will do so."

"Good. I leave him to you."

With those words, Namgung Hyeong began to climb Mount Hua.

Only after his father’s figure vanished in the distance did Namgung Seon speak.

"Doesn’t my father come off a bit stiff?"

It was a question one could hardly answer.

Cheonjeong fumbled, unable to reply, and only Soyak opened her mouth.

"He seems strict."

"You put it nicely, you."

"I am not so lacking in sense as to speak ill of the father of the one before my eyes."

The corners of Namgung Seon’s mouth curled up higher.

Amusing.

Indeed, it felt like coming down had been the right call.

"All right then, since I’m the uninvited tag-along, I’ll foot the bill. What shall we go eat?"

****

"It has been a long time, Sect Leader."

"Welcome, Clan Lord. Which will you have, tea or wine?"

Red-Tile Pavilion.

The Sect Leader’s residence and office.

The Namgung Clan’s Clan Lord, Namgung Hyeong, had not been long on Mount Hua when he reached that place.

A realm of lightness arts one could only call lofty.

"Would wine be acceptable?"

"By all means. Why wouldn’t it be?"

Jeongyang laughed heartily and opened the cupboard.

There was a single porcelain bottle kept with care.

When he unsealed the stopper, bound tight with cord, a clear fragrance filled the room.

"…Sword-South Spring."

"Yes."

The first famous liquor from Sichuan ever supplied to the imperial court.

The wine Li Bai praised.

A masterpiece hard to obtain.

"Is it all right to bring out so precious a wine?"

"You and I share the same mind, do we not?"

"Heh heh… Indeed. We do."

The stern, solemn cast in Namgung Hyeong’s face loosened.

He chuckled, smiling like a man already half-tipsy.

"Are you there outside?"

"Yes, Sect Leader."

"Go down and have them send up a full spread of side dishes."

"I will do so."

The small footsteps soon receded.

Jeongyang took out cups carved from jade and poured one apiece.

Above the trembling, clear surface of the wine, the two men’s faces were reflected.

"Let us take the first cup now, and wait for the dishes on the next."

"Truly excellent."

A clear chime as jade touched jade.

Soon both men held a mouthful of wine and savored it.

After a sharp, refreshing sip…

From deep in the belly to the tip of the nose, on the out-breath, the fragrance of paradise’s blossoms burst forth and rose.

"Khh…"

"…I have drunk many a Sword-South Spring, but this is the best."

"Of the lot, I procured the rarest and most labored over."

"As expected of the Sect Leader."

Jeongyang laughed heartily and waved it off.

But the smile went only so far.

He quietly set down his cup and lowered his voice.

"How fares the Sword Sovereign of late?"

"Regrettably, still hale."

Regrettably.

Their eyes met, holding the same meaning.

What drives a man into the abyss is inferiority—

A warped feeling toward one’s own lack and deficiency.

In that sense…

The two had much in common.

Despite the twenty years between them.

Chapter 23

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