The summit of Mount Hua.

That was where the “real plaque” hung.

The one at the foot of the mountain was nothing more than an entrance.

Myungjeok was waiting there for Jegal Yeon and Jang Yul.

Jang Yul, huh...

The man they called the Eye-Gap Severing Sword had excellent eyes.

To smash the crown of a person’s head in an instant and split them all the way down to the philtrum was no simple feat.

You had to be fast, strong, and precise to pull that off.

And on top of that, he was a Transcendent Apex master.

How many people had reached Transcendent Apex in this famous orthodox sect by stuffing themselves with elixirs and learning under its teachings?

At least two hundred.

But to say they had truly reached it on their own would be nonsense.

A sect’s ancient martial arts came with commentary.

There were masters, senior brothers and sisters who taught, pulled, and pushed you.

There were times when a single lesson from an elder brought enlightenment.

But a solitary, exclusive martial art?

There was no such scaffolding.

Even if he had not followed the teachings of Confucianism, Buddhism, or Daoism.

Even if he had not emulated the subtle principles of yin and yang, the five elements, and the four directions and eight trigrams.

The fact that he had climbed to Transcendent Apex on that alone and made his name known across the martial world was, in Myungjeok’s eyes, an achievement surpassing his own.

In particular, its practical lethality was beyond words.

Even his epithet was nothing more than a refined way of saying “the sword that splits heads in half.”

I must not leak killing intent. I must not give rise to suspicion.

Myungjeok did his best to calm his heart.

He needed a mind like a bright mirror over still water.

Soon, footsteps could be heard in the distance.

Jegal Yeon and Jang Yul had arrived.

“I trust the ascent wasn’t too troublesome.”

It would not have been.

No matter how weak the Jegal Clan was in martial force, they weren’t ignorant of Lightness Arts.

Even if Jegal Yeon had not learned a single martial art herself, Jang Yul was at her side.

At worst, he would have carried her up; he would never actually have made her walk.

“Thank you for the consideration. It was no trouble at all.”
“I’d heard Mount Hua was a rough yet magnificent mountain, but it truly deserves the name ‘Sword Peak.’”
“Ha ha. Hearing that from Great Hero Jang Yul is an honor for us.”

A fifty-year-old master.

And one with a renowned epithet in the martial world, besides.

Even if Myungjeok was Mount Hua’s next Sect Leader and Plum Blossom Sword Lord among the One Sovereign, Three Emperors, Seven Lords...

It was not excessive to address the other man as Great Hero.

“‘Great hero,’ he says—these days I’m nothing more than a middle-aged man who wears a sword and lives quietly.”

It wasn’t banter paired with a laugh.

His mouth was shut in taciturn silence, his eyes gleaming.

He was saying, Do not pay any more attention to me.

It was a wordless pressure that he did not want more spotlight than the Inner Pavilion Lord—the young lady who was his master and in whose service he had come.

“Inner Pavilion Lord, Mount Hua has prepared a tent right beside the pavilion for you, the Jegal Clan’s honored guest.”
“Thank you. I very much wanted to properly see the talents who will carry Mount Hua’s future.”
“Please, this way.”

One thing was odd.

Jegal Yeon had come wearing two swords.

Her usual one needed no introduction.

The short sword she always wore.

The other was... a fairly long sword.

...I’ve never seen that longsword before.

A black, cleanly polished scabbard.

A grip finished in oiled ebony.

Right down to the unadorned guard, whose functional beauty stood out.

That one’s for real combat.

But at that moment, his view was blocked.

Because Jang Yul had stepped in between Jegal Yeon and Myungjeok.

“Is that the tent we’re headed to?”
“Ah, yes. That’s right.”

They were about the same age, but the other man was someone beyond comparison—a man of an exclusive martial art.

His name in the martial world carried more weight, so Myungjeok had to speak with respect.

Jang Yul, completely at ease, escorted Jegal Yeon up toward the tent.

Then he glanced back over his shoulder and, with his eyes, gave Myungjeok a warning.

It meant, Don’t run your eyes over the young lady.

“...Hmph.”

Myungjeok didn’t feel great about suddenly being treated like some vulgar lout either.

But swords were worn at the waist.

He had plainly been staring in that direction. That was his fault.

He had nothing to say.

If Jegal Yeon herself had noticed and made an issue of it...

He didn’t even want to think about it.

It would have turned into an enormous hassle.

Watching Jegal Yeon and Jang Yul enter the tent, Myungjeok turned on his heel.

This much was enough.

Now it was time to go deliver what he’d learned to the Sect Leader.

*****

Time was up.

Of course, Cheon Soyak had not fully recovered her inner power.

But contrary to what people might think, she hadn’t completely drained it either.

Half a sixty-year cycle.

That was to say, thirty years’ worth of dedicated cultivation.

It was truly a vast amount.

Even if you started learning an inner art and accumulating inner power at ten years old, you would have to be a forty-year-old master to possess that much.

It was impossible for it to be emptied just because she had poured a bit of inner power into a single technique.

“You promised, Soyak.”
“I’ve already shown them something grand and flashy. It’s only right I show them something precise and swift as well.”
“Good. Make sure you keep that promise.”

Cheonju said it even though he knew Soyak was not someone who lied.

Because he was the one shaking.

Cheonhwa and he were already both Eunsong’s disciples.

Seeing how Eun Byeok had said nothing, and Grandmaster Myungjeok and the Sect Leader had also held their tongues...

He didn’t know exactly what had happened, but it really did seem they had accepted the terms of the wager.

“Now then, the final of the One-Branch Gathering!!!”

The announcer’s voice rang out rich and full.

People got to their feet, cheering and applauding.

Cheonju and Soyak walked slowly up onto the Sparring Stage...

Facing one another, they placed their hands on their hilts.

“The favorite who has cut his way up in an unstoppable charge, even toppling Head Senior Cheonjeong!!! Cheonju!!!!”

He had thought that after seeing Soyak’s level, no one would be cheering for him.

But surprisingly, the people shouted quite a bit and clapped for him.

Results weren’t everything.

Not everyone could invest all their hopes in the champion alone.

By its nature, wasn’t the runner-up also a testament to a talent second only to the victor of Mount Hua?

“And!!!”

Everyone’s gazes swung to Soyak.

With so many eyes focused on that small, slender body, anyone else might have felt crushed by the weight.

But Soyak kept her shoulders and back as straight as ever.

“The one who gifted everyone with that distant, sweet-bitter plum fragrance!!! Black Plum Blossom Cheon Soyak!!!!”

Black Plum Blossom.

No one in Mount Hua had ever seen plum blossoms so red that they turned black.

It wasn’t as though anyone had formally bestowed an epithet on her, but...

From here on, it was obvious the young Soyak would be called the Black Plum Blossom.

“Before they draw their swords on each other!!!”

The crowd started to roar, then stopped and focused on the announcer.

Their eyes followed the announcer’s fingertip, and soon attention shifted again—to the Jegal Clan’s tent that finger pointed toward.

“The Jegal Clan’s Inner Pavilion Lord has said she will present a prize to the victor!!!”

The Jegal Clan was the top strategist clan.

Strategy wasn’t only for the battlefield.

The same logic applied in commerce as well.

The Heavenly Line Merchant House run by the Jegal Clan was one of the trading groups that dominated the martial world.

“And that prize is!!! A treasured sword forged from pure Black Iron!!!”

Inner Pavilion Lord Jegal Yeon unfastened the sword at her waist and lifted it up.

With a SHIIING, the blade slid from its scabbard.

A deep, ink-dark, matte edge that looked like it would swallow every light around it.

For a moment, the gathered crowd swallowed back their greed.

“Please consider it a small gift of apology for failing to come to the last One-Branch Gathering without so much as a word.”

Jegal Yeon gave a graceful, shallow bow to the assembled guests, then went up to the pavilion.

There, she held the sword out to Jeongyang with both hands.

“You went so far as to prepare something like this for us. Thank you.”
“Not at all, Sect Leader. We’re the grateful ones, that you would accept our sincerity.”
“Truly, my thanks.”

Jeongyang let out a hearty laugh with a genial smile.

Of course, inside he was burning up.

How bitter was it to think that, whoever won, he would now have to hand this over?

On one side was the girl who was a thorn in his eye.

On the other was the boy who had joined forces with that thorn-in-his-eye and slipped out of his grasp.

And this after he’d gone so far as to personally administer Hair-Cutting and Marrow-Washing every month for nearly two years!

But he had to hide it on his face.

He couldn’t let something like this sway him now.

Black Iron was a rare material, and a Black Iron sword was a treasured blade, but...

Just how many of those were stacked up in Mount Hua’s secret armory?

More than anything, there was that thing in the underground dungeon beneath South Peak.

If he could just brainwash that thing they had sealed for fifty years.

The board would change.

If a master of Great Radiant Ten-Thousand-Plum Sword belonged to him alone, he could overturn the game.

Jeongyang exhaled a deep breath and recovered his usual composure.

It had been a momentary tremor.

Even Jegal Yeon, who had been handing him the sword right in front of him, had failed to notice.

“As you heard, this Black Iron sword will be awarded to the victor. Both of you, give it your all.”

Jeongyang infused his voice with inner power and declared it, then sat back down.

Everyone’s eyes now turned once more to the announcer.

“Then! Let the match begin!!!”

At those words, Soyak and Cheonju drew their swords.

And, kicking off the floor, they flew toward each other.

Chapter 35

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