Chapter 23
-“I see you’re awake.”
“You look terrible. Have you contacted the family?”
“No, I have not.”
“Good.”
It took Gwak Cheolung a full fortnight to pull himself up from that place. Regaining consciousness had left his whole body imprinted with pain. Replaying the duel in his head only yielded one truth: he had been battered, plain and simple. The worst experience of his life—things he’d never felt in his living days.
He had to admit it.
“He was an apex master.”
Gal Hyomyung nodded.
Every time Mujin crossed his mind, every bruise and strike throbbed anew. He had assumed that, given another go, he might at least hold his ground—but no. Even Elder Gwak Cheolung, one of the Gwak family’s top three in rank, could not handle him. Not only did Mujin need to be reassessed, but Songho Sect as well.
“I’ll go see him,” Gwak Cheolung said.
“You mustn’t overdo it,” Gal Hyomyung warned.
He’d only just come to. Even one as physically robust as Gwak Cheolung needed to be cautious for a while.
“Do you take me lightly, then?” Gwak Cheolung asked.
“Not at all.”
Though his body ached, there were no internal wounds. He rose to his feet. The remaining marks still made his joints scream; a brittle snap rang out as blocked channels realigned—one by one the blocked meridians settled back into place.
“Where is that bastard?”
“He left.”
“He humiliated us and then disappeared, huh?”
“Not exactly.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“You’ll see if you look at Cheonun.”
Gwak Cheolung wanted to charge off at once, but instead he headed to where his nephew was staying. There, he found Cheonun training.
Huh?
The Lightning Sword was unmistakable.
And yet—different.
The step, the sword path, the sword form, the internal energy control: all had subtly shifted. Had he abandoned the Lightning Sword entirely? The answer was no. Cheonun’s achievement was incomplete, but at that pace the Lightning Sword could break its stagnant mold.
‘Ah!’
A simultaneous dawning of admiration and understanding hit him.
Gwak Cheolung hurriedly settled into a cross-legged stance.
Gal Hyomyung, seeing the realization arrive, sealed off the area. He told Cheonun to stop and wait with his sword.
A split-second of enlightenment.
When he came to his senses, he chuckled.
“Hehe.”
Gwak Cheolung, who had stood at the threshold of an apex master, understood. The wall he’d been holding up had crumbled. It was a small revelation, but one whose value could not be measured against anything else.
“Cheonun, what happened?”
“Well…”
Cheonun told the truth.
After confirming cause and effect, Gwak Cheolung collapsed back into his seat. He’d glanced at the sword and tuned it for a moment—then the Lightning Sword had become a completed form. Could this really be the work of an apex master?
“You mistook him for nothing.”
That man belonged to a different league. To have pressed swords against someone like that and live—he should count himself lucky. In the rivers and lakes, strength is what proves you, not age or station.
“I’ll forget grudges.”
“Pardon?”
Gal Hyomyung blinked, unable to believe his ears. Even a man of blunt temperament like Gwak Cheolung never let go of old grievances—yet here he stepped back first.
“I’ll make peace with the Songho Sect. Notify the family as well.”
“Yes, Elder.”
There was no point in making an enemy of someone who had passed the apex. If such a person had opted for malice, the Bomon Merchant Guild and the head of the Gwak household would have been tossed aside already. Above all, he extended a hand of compromise. Refusing it would only enrage him more.
‘If you ignore him, he won’t let it go,’ Gal Hyomyung thought, seeing it in the other’s clenched hand. The scent of blood was thick in that gesture. One should never forge an enmity with such a man.
‘I’m looking forward to the Young Dragon Tournament.’
****
“So I stepped on him a bit.”
“...”
“That kind of thing should be crushed at the start so they can’t even squeak after.”
“...”
“If you leave them room, they start acting like they matter.”
“...”
“It was for Yu-jin anyway.”
“...”
Mujin talked as if the world revolved around what he had to say.
Those forced to listen—if “listen” even applied—had no headspace for anything else. The moment anyone’s attention wandered, he would fly at them without mercy.
“You’re a respectable ultra-peak now. Why be bothered by someone like them?”
“That’s not just any ‘someone’!”
“Must be your imagination.”
Mu-ho poured the essence of the Songho Five-Form Sword into his blade, completing an arrayed technique. He unleashed a sword force that soared past swiftness and transformation into the pinnacle of art—yet a single punch shattered it without resistance.
‘A sword barrier isn’t glass!’
He knew his brother had become monstrous in strength, but during his absence his cultivation had clearly advanced far beyond what he’d seen.
To toy with someone who’d reached ultra-peak meant Mu-ho had already risen to the rank of a near-grandmaster in power. At that rate he should have hit a plateau by now.
‘Why is he getting even stronger?!’
Faster than Mu-ho, who trained until the soles of his feet sweated—faster by far. It felt unfair, absurd even. Ever since being overturned five years ago, Mu-ho’s revenge had been a distant hope.
“Boy, when will you become an absolute master? I’m so anxious I can’t go out.”
“Being ultra-peak at my age is already impressive!”
“I’m an absolute master.”
Wow. No humility.
The elder had no modesty whatsoever.
At least when he was a wild one it felt better.
“Becoming an absolute master isn’t something anyone can claim!”
“You’re the genius of the family.”
“Don’t just throw that at me whenever!”
If he wasn’t trying to drive his younger brother to death, every sparring session felt like that. This wasn’t a friendly match. What might have been a hint from the brother became life-and-death for Mu-ho. One slip and a lethal, intent-filled strike would sever his breath.
“The martial world is treacherous.”
“Who are you trying to fool into thinking you’ve had lots of experience out there?”
“Not an enemy, right?”
“…When did you run away from home, exactly?”
“If you’re the kind of brother who acts like that, then learn as I do—what’s with all the questions?”
“…Just go ahead and kill me, then!”
Mujin loved his younger brother.
It pained him that love sometimes meant using the rod—but what choice did he have? As the reputation of Songho Sect grew, challengers would appear in greater numbers. He could not step forward to resolve every single one.
There would be times when he was away from home.
‘Mu-ho, you must become strong.’
Only then could Mujin rest easy when he left, and only then would the overall strength of Songho Sect rise. For him, family came first. After his younger brother, the clan came next. Maintaining hierarchy within the clan was equally vital.
Boom—Kwa-Kwa-Kwaang!
It was hard to believe fists and swords had collided. The eye could barely follow. In the heightened state of No-Self, Limitless, their auras of strength clashed. To think it was only speed would be a mistake—each fragment of power that burst apart reshaped the very terrain of the mountain.
“Haa… haa…”
When the life-or-death sparring match finally ended, Mu-ho struggled even to straighten his battered body. He needed a long rest before he could recover to his original state.
“You must protect the household when I’m gone,” Mujin said.
“I’m not some watchdog! Don’t you think you’re going too far?”
“Never forget—you are the successor of the great Songho Sect.”
“What is that supposed to mean? You tack on ‘successor’ like it’s a cure-all excuse for everything.”
“Isn’t that what being a successor means?”
“…It is not!”
Why shout as if throwing a tantrum!
Mujin’s hearing was exceptionally sharp. Even a murmur reached him. This was clearly rebellion, resistance against his older brother. Yet in all things, there was the proper rule of the elder commands, the younger obeys.
“If you disrespect your elder, you’ll be punished.”
“…Weren’t you the one who bullied that old grandma in the market?!”
“When?”
“Just because you don’t remember doesn’t make it okay!”
“Let’s forget the trivial things.”
That was from his foolish younger days. Once, drunk and irritated, he had kicked over an old woman’s basket of vegetables.
Later, Mu-ho had come to apologize and repay her.
‘Forgive me, Grandma.’
It had been part of his brother’s discipline. If Mujin admitted it, his own dignity would have crumbled. Luckily, Mu-ho had paid generously, and Mujin had vowed never again to act with such ignorance.
‘Another debt I owe him.’
He owed his younger brother far too much.
“…I’m sorry.”
“Then stop now—huff!”
“I’ll make you even stronger.”
“You insane bastard!”
“Is that language befitting a successor?”
He gave his all with a spirit of atonement, yet his brother took it the wrong way. How embarrassing.
– So many excuses, even when beating him.
‘They’re persuasive excuses.’
– Your emotions leaked through.
‘That’s what happens when you grow up constantly compared.’
Their “warm” brotherly spar ended with Mujin seated on a stump while Mu-ho sprawled flat on the ground. Having exhausted all his strength, Mu-ho’s training clothes were soaked with sweat, as if he’d walked through rain.
Above stretched a clear sky.
Despite the anger simmering from the emotionally charged duel, Mu-ho absorbed the gains from the sword techniques he’d managed to touch upon. Bitter as it was, the harvest was rich from a spar fought as if life itself were at stake.
And yet—something felt odd.
His elder brother was not simply strong in martial arts. No matter how he attacked, Mujin received and countered with seamless mastery. It felt like facing a grizzled veteran who had rolled through a hundred battles in real combat.
‘He hardly ever leaves the village… how did he learn this?’
To Mu-ho, it was clear—the true genius was his elder brother, not himself. Perhaps even his past antics as a hooligan had been a ploy to deceive them all. But then, thinking of it that way only raised further questions.
“Stop overthinking and come down for a bath,” Mujin said.
“Alright.”
On the way down the mountainside, there was a small waterfall. Few knew the place, and so it was rarely visited.
They stripped completely and entered the water.
For a body soaked in sweat, the waterfall was perfect. The cold, refreshing stream didn’t just cleanse the flesh but seemed to clear the soul itself.
Though Mu-ho had seen his brother’s body many times, he never grew used to it. Not even a needle could pierce that flawless physique—firm, balanced, with no excess.
Pitter-pat!
Every time the water struck, droplets bounced away like beads on granite. The fact that it wasn’t even intentional made it all the more astonishing.
“That body of yours is unfair.”
“The charm of a man is all here. Especially the thighs. Hyaaah, hyaaah!” Mujin struck ridiculous poses with his naked body.
Mu-ho grimaced. The confidence was unbearable, but he couldn’t deny it. His own body was solid, yet compared to his brother’s, it was lacking.
“I never even see you train.”
“Training should be done where no one sees. That’s what makes it attractive.”
If people saw, they’d say the body was just the result of effort. But if it was perfected unseen, they’d call it genius. It also preserved the aura of mystery. Though not intentional, Mujin’s training had never stopped.
– You really plan to coast through life, don’t you?
‘That’s why you returned, isn’t it?’
The more he perfected War King Arts, the more flawless his body became. That was the very nature of the technique. To display War King Art, the body itself had to surpass human limits and become divine.
– War King Arts is truly remarkable. I’ve never seen a martial art that hones the body into a transcendent realm like this. And it’s not even complete yet.
‘If you want to learn it, go ahead.’
– You’re just rubbing it in.
‘In the end, martial arts don’t matter for either of us.’
– Not entirely true.
For a War King or a Demonic King, martial arts mattered less than innate capacity. As those who had reached the level of Grandmasters, their domain was creating martial arts themselves. They had to evolve beyond what already existed, or else they’d never be able to face the powerful foes yet to come.
---The End Of The Chapter---
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