“...What is that reason.”

“Before long, Head Senior, and we as well, will be the late-generation prodigies.”

Young lights around twenty years of age, who will brighten the martial world’s future.

They are called the late-generation prodigies.

“I’m satisfied with this sword I inherited from my family. But if you are Head Senior among Mount Hua’s late-generation prodigies, shouldn’t you have a sword worthy of that position?”

Soyak quietly drew Falling Blossom Tranquil Edge from its scabbard.

A blade black as the night sky, flashing with a subtle, five-hued radiance.

Upon it, every star of the Three Enclosures and Twenty-Eight Mansions was engraved in its proper constellation.

A family heirloom.

A treasure passed down through the generations.

But when you looked at the utterly unguessable material and the precise, graceful craftsmanship...

You could tell it was no ordinary treasure.

And the three characters carved into the base of the blade.

落花正.

Falling Blossom, True—falling blossoms that remain upright.

“Seen up close, it really is something else.”

“You inherited that from your family? That’s insane... Were you some young lady from a noble household or something?”

“Cheongak, seriously. I told you, you don’t ask stuff like that.”

Cheongu scolded Cheongak.

But it was the kind of treasure that would naturally make you think that way.

From afar, it was just a longsword that was a little on the long side.

Up close, it was no different from a sacred relic of any great orthodox sect’s main hall.

Soyak quietly slid Falling Blossom Tranquil Edge back into its scabbard.

She had already used it this time, so everyone would know she wielded an unusual sword.

But Sect Leader Jeongyang still seemed unaware.

His disciple Myungjeok, and Myungjeok’s disciple Eun Byeok as well.

‘...Harmonization Scripture and Falling Blossom Tranquil Edge really have been completely forgotten in Mount Hua.’

Well, of course.

It was something they had given to a branch-line disciple who had barely stepped into the threshold of Transcendent Apex.

It was a sword that could not be drawn, so no one had ever really seen the blade.

Harmonization Scripture was the same.

No one learned it.

No one learned it and then unfolded Ninefold Heaven Plum Sword through it.

So no one knew that these dark red Black Plum Blossoms were a function unique to Harmonization Scripture.

It left a bitter taste for no reason.

It wasn’t even that it had been forgotten.

From the beginning, no one had ever known.

The scabbard and hilt of Falling Blossom Tranquil Edge were as plain as the Black Iron sword she had been granted today.

Of course, the craftsmanship was precise and elegant...

But swords like that rolled around the world like stones in the street.

Harmonization Scripture, Falling Plum Elegy, and Falling Plum Elegy’s book all looked, on the outside, like just another manual.

Most martial manuals were like that.

Paste a single sheet of paper over the cover and you could no longer tell what they were.

It had been nearly twenty years since her father received them and then died.

Was there anyone left who remembered Black Plum Sword Lord Cheon Baekgyeong?

“Soyak. What are you thinking about so hard?”

Cheonjeong’s voice pulled Soyak out of her thoughts.

Everyone was looking at her.

“...I was combing through my childhood memories.”

“I told you, your childhood still includes right now. So shake off that sad face already.”

“That might... be difficult.”

Her pitch-black eyes, quietly lowered.

Sadness gathered in those once-empty pupils.

Cheonjeong wordlessly patted her small back.

And at that moment, Cheongak raised his hand and completely shattered the mood.

“But what does ‘combing through’ even mean?”

It meant to look over something in detail.

*****

The Sect Leader’s detached quarters.

A place lent out as lodging for honored guests when needed.

It was where Namgung Seon and Namgung Hyeong were staying now.

In the rear garden there, Namgung Seon was unfolding Sovereign Sword Form.

It had been about two years since he learned Sovereign Sword Form from the Sword Sovereign.

Azure Sky Scripture was nearing great completion, and next year he was to begin learning Azure Sky Hardened Qi.

Namgung Hyeong returned from the banquet and saw his son training with a sword.

“...Seon is actually finishing his training.”

It was strange.

He knew Namgung Seon’s behavioral patterns very well.

Within the clan, he was more diligent in cultivation than anyone.

But outside, he absolutely was not.

Part of it was that he didn’t want to show others the sight of him training...

But the Namgung Seon he knew rested and played thoroughly whenever he was away from the clan.

‘Yet he comes all the way to Mount Hua in Shaanxi, and on the eve of a friendly spar, he’s drilling himself?’

Behavior unlike his usual.

Namgung Hyeong quietly furrowed his brow.

Then he waited until Sovereign Sword Form had been unfolded through one full cycle before stepping down into the rear garden.

“You’re working hard.”

“Well, something like that.”

“Didn’t you usually rest whenever you were outside the clan?”

“That’s true, but...”

Namgung Seon sheathed his treasured sword and stole a glance at his father.

Then his gaze rose to the moon in the sky.

“For the first time, I keep having this needless thought that I might lose.”

“You?”

“Yes, me.”

Namgung Hyeong’s eyes trembled.

He was the one who had boasted to Sect Leader Jeongyang and cadged several bottles of Sword-South Spring.

If that promise fell apart now, how ridiculous would he look?

If it were some other figure in the martial world, it wouldn’t matter if he looked ridiculous once or twice.

Not every martial artist could gauge another’s realm, after all...

And it’s not as if anyone can truly see the future; of course they might be wrong.

But the Clan Lord of Namgung could not be like that.

All the more because he was the Sword Sovereign’s son.

Every word he spoke had to be heavier than gold.

“...Can you win?”

“I can’t be sure.”

“H-how much, then? Out of ten fights, how many are you saying?”

Namgung Seon quietly began to work it out in his head.

Then he adjusted his grip on his sword.

He pictured the figure of Cheon Soyak he had seen.

The shape was hazy... but the way she had looked in the Sparring Stage came back to him.

And he began to cross swords with her.

No sound came out.

But cold sweat ran down Namgung Seon’s forehead.

Each time his sword clashed with the empty air, his forearm trembled.

From Sovereign Sword Form to Sky-Vault Unfettered Sword, which was more familiar in his hand.

From Sky-Vault Unfettered Sword to Three-Talents Sword, which was even more familiar.

Then he unfolded Sky-Vault Unfettered Sword again and drove straight back into Sovereign Sword Form.

But he could not win.

Even against a Soyak recreated only in his imagination...

He could not see any opening.

He was being pushed back.

It wasn’t a lack of power.

It was that unfathomably deep internal art.

The visible impact was small...

But all that force churned the inside to a pulp.

He could feel, in the arc of her sword tip, the distant profundity of seizing initiative from behind and the flexible overcoming the strong.

The refinement, and the amassed, crushing mystery of a strong sword, all crumbled before that.

This was...

All but a natural enemy.

“...Ha.”

By the time about one watch had passed like that,

Namgung Seon swept back his bangs, soaked in cold sweat, and straightened his body.

He let the sword hang loosely, then gave his answer.

“About eight times.”

“Eight times out of ten you win! That’s a relief. You must be sure to win and—”

“No.”

He slid the sword back into the scabbard with a bitter smile.

The sight was still vivid in his mind.

Those fully blooming Black Plum Blossoms of Spring-Blooming Blossoms that had filled the Sparring Stage.

“I mean I lose eight out of ten.”

“...What?”

“I lose eight out of ten. I might manage to win two.”

“Is that, is that really true?”

Namgung Seon rested the sheathed sword across his shoulder and looked up at his father.

His father was without question a higher master than he was.

He had stepped into the realm of Transcendent Apex; that was only natural.

But his natural aptitude was far inferior.

From where he was standing, his father would never make it across the mid-slope of Transcendent Apex.

He was too old...

More than age, he was too rigid, and his discernment was poor.

“What would I gain by lying?”

“No, even so, you have a Heaven-Forged Body. Your mother and I gave you a Heaven-Forged Body...”

“Heaven-Forged Body doesn’t mean ‘number one under heaven.’”

Namgung Hyeong froze as if someone had driven a nail through the top of his foot.

He was right.

Was Sword Sovereign Namgung Ak Heaven-Forged Body?

He was not.

If anything, the Demonic Cult Leader, the Heavenly Demon, with the Ten-Thousand-Demons Body who could freely wield every demonic art, was the monster.

But the Heavenly Demon died at the Sword Sovereign’s hand.

His neck was severed.

Of course, it wasn’t as if the Sword Sovereign had done it alone...

Even so, the Sword Sovereign survived that blood-soaked battle and unified the orthodox factions of the nine provinces to found the Alliance.

And he became the number one under heaven.

“...Is it truly that hopeless?”

“I wouldn’t say hopeless.”

Namgung Seon spun his sword once in one hand, then gripped it again.

His brows lifted.

“Twenty percent is a pretty hopeful chance, don’t you think?”

“What kind of—”

“—against that ‘monster.’”

Monster.

Not a genius, a prodigy, a talented person, or a gifted one, but a monster.

A word for something that had slipped free of the frame and track of human beings.

There was no way Namgung Seon did not know what he was calling her when he said it.

“She’s a real monster.”

“A monster...”

“Well, still a young monster, but.”

Namgung Hyeong just sat down on the edge of the main hall porch.

Because the path to dealing with this move was utterly dark before his eyes.

Namgung Seon drew his sword again and resumed training.

‘What am I supposed to do...’

And at that moment, one course of action came to Namgung Hyeong’s mind.

A plan he absolutely could not let Namgung Seon know.

Or Sword Sovereign Namgung Ak.

‘But there’s no other way.’

Namgung Hyeong quietly rose to his feet.

Then, as if he didn’t want to interrupt his son’s training, he slipped out quietly...

And summoned someone.

A man in black martial robes.

On a night when even the sliver of a crescent moon was faint.

A night that was endlessly dark.

Chapter 39

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