It was a distant and breathtaking sight.

Jegal Yeon stared at it, nailed to her seat.

“The winner is!!!! Cheon Soyak, disciple of White Plum Scholar Eunsong!!!! It is Young Hero Cheon Soyak!!!”

The view had been so dizzyingly sublime that everyone simply froze.

But from someone’s applause, cheers began to spread outward.

In the end, they swallowed the entire audience.

“Woooaaahhh!!! Incredible!!!”

“Now I really don’t know!! I can’t even guess how the late-bloomers will fight it out!!!”

“That’s right!! I’m looking forward to the Dragon-Phoenix Conclave three years from now!!!”

Everyone had risen to their feet, showering her with applause.

Even her own master, Eunsong, was no exception.

Jegal Yeon also slowly rose from her seat.

She gazed blankly at Eunsong and brought her hands together in a clap.

“⋯⋯Now then, if everyone would quiet down for a moment.”

Only after letting it run on for quite some time like that

did Jeongyang finally rise to his feet and open his mouth.

Everyone in the audience held their breath and looked up at the Sect Leader.

“Cheon Soyak, disciple of Second Generation Eunsong. Come here.”

A low, solemn voice rumbled out.

The Sect Leader was an old master beyond sixty.

He did not make mistakes like revealing his emotions in a place like this.

At that age, one grew as seasoned in politics as in swordsmanship.

He knew better than anyone what he ought to do.

Soyak, who had been quietly walking closer, stopped right in front of the pavilion and looked up at him.

‘⋯⋯Those eyes are still the same.’

So dark and deep it was uncomfortable, impossible to fathom.

As if they were not a person’s eyes at all.

Eyes with not a glint of light, just empty and dark like a bottomless pit.

‘Even though she had light in them when she fought Cheonhwa.’

Why could he no longer see it now?

Did it mean she had no interest in him?

Jeongyang quietly retraced his encounters with Soyak.

He had never done anything in particular that she ought to hate.

If that was the case.

Then it meant Eunsong had whispered something to her.

“Disciple of Mount Hua Sect, Cheon Soyak. I have come at your summons.”

“You are the winner of this One-Branch Gathering. As promised, I will bestow the Purple Firmament Pellet.”

When Jeongyang gestured, Myungjeok took out a small box holding the Purple Firmament Pellet from his robe.

He handed it over into Jeongyang’s hand.

Jeongyang personally came down from the pavilion.

A kindly smile.

Warm eyes.

Yet what kind of beast lurked inside them?

Soyak quietly lowered her gaze.

“Take it.”

“I will receive it with gratitude.”

A heavy sensation pressed against her palms.

A wooden case holding the Purple Firmament Pellet.

And a longsword forged from Black Iron.

“From this moment on, these two are yours. No one in Mount Hua will be able to contest your right to them.”

Soyak nodded and tucked the Purple Firmament Pellet into her breast.

Beneath Falling Blossom Tranquil Edge at her waist, she let the Black Iron sword hang, strapped down.

Jeongyang looked down at Soyak after she had finished arranging her things.

She resembled a plum blossom more than anyone.

But those eyes still did not look at him.

“For the last matter.”

His voice sank low.

He drew in breath with inner power, and with his exhalation it filled him once more.

Before long, Jeongyang’s voice changed until it shook the whole of Mount Hua’s peaks.

“Guests have come from Namgung Clan. They have come for harmony, to cross swords with the One-Branch winner—Mount Hua’s pillar—and share insight.”

People began to stir again.

Not because it was unexpected.

But because of anticipation.

Until now, Namgung Clan had exchanged bouts with disciples of all the Nine Great Sects and Five Great Houses.

That was for two reasons.

First, to genuinely let their young disciples broaden their view by witnessing Namgung’s sword.

Second, to make them feel the gap, to warn them never to even think of lifting their heads before that distant sky.

And that had been extremely effective.

Namgung Seon was a young master who had reached the realm of Apex.

Among those in their teens, there was no one who could match him.

No, even among the late-bloomers in their twenties, there were not many talents who could defeat him.

Even if someone’s realm were simply higher.

Sovereign Sword Form was the sword of a tyrant king that flattened minor differences and crushed them.

“As you all know, let me introduce him here.”

On cue, Namgung Seon came down from the pavilion and stood at the Sect Leader’s side.

He offered the clasped-fist salute to each direction in turn, then spoke.

“I am Namgung Seon, young clan lord of Namgung Clan.”

“I have heard the world calls you Heavenly Sword.”

“That is an undeserved false name you have graciously attached to your unworthy junior.”

The clowning side of him that came out when he was with Cheonjeong or Soyak was nowhere to be seen.

Because the person standing there was not Namgung Seon the martial artist and swordsman.

He was Namgung’s young clan lord, heir of the Sword Sovereign.

Namgung Seon, inheritor of Sovereign Sword Form.

He fixed his gaze on Soyak’s eyes.

Soyak still did not meet his eyes and kept her gaze lowered.

“Greet each other. The spar will be tomorrow.”

Only at Jeongyang’s instruction did Soyak raise her head.

And Namgung Seon saw it.

That something was swirling inside those pitch-black eyes.

Something was alive and moving there.

Something fearful, terrible, auspicious, and also magnificent⋯⋯.

‘⋯⋯A qilin?’

Those were not a human being’s eyes.

When he had once, just once, accompanied his grandfather the Sword Sovereign to the imperial palace after being summoned.

In a corridor of the palace so overwhelming that the word emperor suited it.

He had seen the beast with eyes black as ink, like holes bored straight through without a glint of shine.

A painting of a pitch-black qilin.

That painting had not been only one piece.

The corridor had been filled, filled from end to end with them.

And the last painting⋯⋯.

Had shown a qilin holding a star in its mouth.

On top of the ashes where the once-splendid pavilions and palace had all burned down, it held the star in its jaws and flashed its eyes.

A landscape where buds were sprouting up between the ashes.

Soyak’s voice snapped Namgung Seon’s mind back into place, which had once again been captured by those pitch-black eyes.

“Allow me to offer my formal greetings. I am Cheon Soyak.”

“⋯⋯I am Namgung Seon, young clan lord of Namgung Clan.”

Under the name and position of young clan lord, Namgung Seon could not lower himself.

All the more so if the opponent was only a Third Generation disciple.

Soyak had no complaint whatsoever, bowed first, and rose afterward.

“Good. That will be all. Disperse.”

*****

“⋯⋯Damn it.”

The curse came out of Namgung Seon’s mouth.

His father, Namgung Hyeong, was enjoying a feast with the Sect Leader.

They paired rich, fattened roast duck, grilled until the outside was crisp,

with that extravagant Sword-South Spring.

They had no idea what was going on in their son’s gut.

Not every martial artist accurately grasped the opponent’s realm.

That was an issue of “discernment,” unrelated to the realm of cultivation they had piled up.

It was like how the gadabouts wandering the Nine Provinces often knew strength and weakness more thoroughly than middling martial artists.

Even the titles One Sovereign, Three Emperors, Seven Lords had spread from the mouths of those gadabouts until they settled.

But Namgung Hyeong was peculiarly lacking in that “discernment.”

That was why he could now be washing down duck with liquor and making bold declarations.

That there was no way his son would lose.

That his son had been acknowledged by the Sword Sovereign, had been born with a Heaven-Forged Body, and had mastered Sovereign Sword Form.

‘If this goes wrong, it’ll be a disaster. What am I supposed to do about this.’

He would lose?

He had never actually imagined such a thing.

In martial arts, intent walked ahead and energy followed.

One who could not imagine victory could never truly win.

But right now, Namgung Seon could not even picture himself defeating Soyak.

Even if he tried to picture it, if the difference in their skill was that clear, he would just lose without putting up a fight.

No matter how he tried, he could not find an answer for how to escape that endlessly mysterious sword tip and snatch a breath.

Namgung Seon quietly drew his sword in the back garden behind his lodgings.

It was a treasured sword bestowed thanks to the Sword Sovereign’s friendship with the imperial family.

It too was Black Iron, with a small amount of that precious Meteoric Iron mixed in.

Because of that, a faint sheen ran along the black blade.

“⋯⋯At least the sword won’t get cut.”

Even if Soyak unleashed fully externalized Sword Qi.

If he filled his own Black Iron sword, infused with Meteoric Iron, with Sword Light to the brim, he could respond.

And from there on, it would be a battle of swordsmanship.

A human battle.

A battle between Sovereign Sword Form and Ninefold Heaven Plum Sword.

A battle between Namgung Clan and Mount Hua Sect.

A battle between Namgung Seon and Cheon Soyak.

Fortunately, Namgung Seon had been able to witness Soyak fighting without inner power.

He owed that to the spar with Cheonju.

That lofty and flowing sword path.

A trajectory with not a single wasted motion, yet beautiful like the lines of a shaman dancer’s steps.

“It’s going to be hard.”

But he could not just lose as he was.

Sovereign Sword Form was a supreme art in which tyrannical dominance and precision were stacked and carved together.

If Sky-Vault Unfettered Sword was the sky,

then Sovereign Sword Form represented the emperor’s sky.

From of old, the one who ruled had always stood at the highest place.

That meant he was closer to the sky than anyone.

He was the first to see, closer than anyone else, the movements of the stars and sun and to receive the Mandate of Heaven.

That was the ruler king’s authority and right.

When Namgung Seon slowly swung his sword once, the air around him began to tremble.

The Banner-Form of Sky-Vault Unfettered Sword.

Just that alone ruled and controlled the surroundings.

When he snapped his eyes up sharply and swung the sword⋯⋯.

A boundless momentum became a heavy pressure that crushed in from all directions.

No one could flee from the sky.

No one could hide secrets from the sky either.

It was the absolute symbol of a king.

From of old, even the dragon that symbolized emperors and kings flew between sky and clouds with a wish-granting pearl in its jaws.

“⋯⋯Let’s see what happens.”

For the first time in a long, long while⋯⋯.

Namgung Seon poured out every movement of Sky-Vault Unfettered Sword and Sovereign Sword Form with his whole heart, honing his senses to a razor’s edge.

Chapter 37

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