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chapter 22
Sometimes, Yi Do-gun would come by to provoke him, but he still always ended up with his face caught in the Sword Spirit’s hand.
To the Sword Spirit, Yi Do-gun wasn’t so much bothersome as he was almost adorable.
Watching this, Jeok Hwa-myeong couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for Yi Do-gun.
That was because Yi Do-gun, having already defined it as mere trickery, had no idea of the secret behind why the Sword Spirit’s hand would always land squarely on his face.
What the Sword Spirit used wasn’t martial arts.
Since it came from temperament itself, Yi Do-gun had no way to avoid the Sword Spirit’s hand, and realizing that, Jeok Hwa-myeong pitied him.
“Back then, did that many people really suffer?”
The Sword Spirit had grown quite close to Jeok Hwa-myeong while staying briefly as a guest at the Shin Chang-ui family.
“That’s right. The Demonic practitioners learned arts that betrayed human ethics, arts that went against nature. Because Demonic Arts could give you strength by nature itself, it wasn’t easy for a martial artist to resist the temptation. Especially those of the Unorthodox sects—they were easily lured by it. Of course, even some of the Orthodox martial artists weren’t exceptions.”
The Sword Spirit listened as Jeok Hwa-myeong explained about the Demonic practitioners.
He already knew a fair amount about the events fifty years ago through Cheon Nam-yeon, Gu Yeong-cheol, and Jeon-mo, but he had heard nothing about what had happened in the martial world since then. That made Jeok Hwa-myeong’s stories interesting, and comparing them to the accounts of his three elders helped him establish his own standards.
—People think Demonic Arts are incredible, but they’re incomplete martial arts. That’s why they alter one’s very nature.
Cheon-woo recalled what the three elders had said about Demonic Arts.
—That’s why anyone who learns Demonic Arts inevitably develops a “weak gate.”
—If you meet such a person, just beat them into paste and be done with it! What’s the point of finding that gate? Any man would understand that!
The Sword Spirit smiled as he remembered their words.
“But I heard that those who learn Demonic Arts inevitably develop a weak point…”
“Weak point?”
It was the first time Jeok Hwa-myeong had heard anyone say such a thing.
In fact, no one in the martial world knew it.
“Yes. My grandfathers and grandmother told me so. They said Demonic Arts are incomplete, and so a weak point always appears.”
“Hm. That’s something new I’ve just learned.”
Whether true or not didn’t matter to Jeok Hwa-myeong. He simply pretended to believe.
“By the way, thirty years ago, was Wan Ma-zon’s Sa Myeong-ok stronger, or fifty years ago, was Grandfather Cheon Nam-yeon the stronger?”
“There’s no way to know. Sa Myeong-ok was indeed powerful. But back then, many martial artists said that if Cheon Nam-yeon the Solitary Demon, Gu Yeong-cheol the Phantom Demon Lord, and Lady Jeon-mo Yak-bing had still been around, Sa Myeong-ok wouldn’t have dared to rampage.”
“I see… So Grandpa and Grandma were that strong.”
“Of course. The three of them were so strong that people called them the mightiest in the history of the martial world.”
The Sword Spirit felt proud.
After all, very few people were remembered and respected across generations.
—You brat! Just because I live shabby here doesn’t mean I’m no one. I was the eternal leader of the Unorthodox sects. Out in the martial world, people used to bow to me with their whole bodies.
Gu Yeong-cheol, the Phantom Demon Lord, would say that often when bored—and it really seemed true.
“But, Sword Brother.”
“Yes?”
“What kind of people were your teachers?”
“They were the strongest people in the world. Without rivals. Didn’t you just say so yourself, Brother Jeok?”
Jeok Hwa-myeong blinked.
“When did I?”
“Just now. When you spoke of Grandfather Solitary, Grandfather Phantom, and Grandmother Jeon-mo.”
Jeok Hwa-myeong stared blankly for a moment, then asked again.
“So… you’re saying you’re their disciple?”
“I suppose you could say that.”
Jeok Hwa-myeong couldn’t decide whether to believe him.
Those three had disappeared fifty years ago, and countless people had claimed to be their disciples since.
Many tried to ride on their reputation to live in luxury, but were later exposed and suffered disgrace.
Some even claimed to be disciples during the outbreak of the Demonic sect thirty years ago, only to be torn limb from limb by Demonic practitioners.
Even being one person’s disciple was unbelievable, let alone the disciple of all three.
Especially since rumor had it the three weren’t all that close when they were active in the martial world.
“Is that really true?”
The Sword Spirit nodded.
Of course, a liar wouldn’t admit to lying.
Though Jeok Hwa-myeong had thought well of the Sword Spirit so far, this claim made him reconsider.
“From now on, don’t go around saying you’re their disciple.”
The Sword Spirit could see it in his eyes—he didn’t believe him.
It stung, but he wasn’t too bothered. Nobody had ever believed him anyway.
“Why not?”
“Many have claimed to be their disciples, and their ends were miserable.”
The Sword Spirit narrowed his eyes at the mention of impostors.
“Are there still such people now?”
“Not anymore. If you say so, you’d be the only one.”
“That’s fine then. If there were, I wouldn’t leave them be…”
He doesn’t seem like a bad person, thought Jeok Hwa-myeong.
He had only met him by chance in an inn, but worried that calling himself their disciple might get him into trouble.
Perhaps traveling with him wouldn’t be so bad.
“Do you have a destination?”
“No. I’m just touring the Central Plains. My grandparents told me to meet many people and live among the world. Of course, they also told me to seek out a few specific people if I got the chance, but it’s optional, not an obligation.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
The way he spoke—calm, steady, without a flicker of change in expression—made Jeok Hwa-myeong almost believe him.
“Who are the people you need to find?”
“…”
“I, too, am traveling the Central Plains. Wouldn’t it be good to search for them together along the way?”
“Really?”
“Why would I lie to you?”
The Sword Spirit nodded.
“There’s no rush. I can search for them after traveling all of Central Plains. And truthfully, I don’t yet have a reason compelling me to find them.”
“I see. Well, traveling with you, this journey won’t be boring.”
“Have you traveled a lot before?”
“Not really. I only roamed the martial world visiting old friends.”
“Then do the same this time. Please introduce me to them. My elders told me to befriend many, so I’d like to meet lots of people.”
Faced with the Sword Spirit’s bright smile, Jeok Hwa-myeong could only manage an awkward grin, unsure what to make of him.
That night, under the bright moon, the Sword Spirit sat on the roof of a side building, gazing at the sky.
“Out here, I keep hearing people praise Grandpa and Grandma. It makes me so proud, as if their glory were mine.”
The three seemed to smile down at him from the moon.
“But people are strange. Why won’t they believe me when I say I’m your disciple?”
It made him feel both hurt and resentful.
—You fool! That’s just jealousy in their hearts.
He remembered Gu Yeong-cheol once saying that.
“Maybe that’s it. But it doesn’t matter anymore. No matter what anyone says, I am their disciple.”
Just then, he noticed someone wandering a short distance away.
“That person…”
It was Hyeon Jin-myeong.
The Sword Spirit silently watched him from the rooftop.
Then suddenly—
The Sword Spirit leaped down, dashing straight toward Hyeon Jin-myeong and blocking his path.
From Hyeon Jin-myeong’s body emanated a sinister aura, not the natural forward flow of energy but a reversed current.
“You are…?”
Recognizing him, Hyeon Jin-myeong flinched.
“I heard you were from Cheonmyeong Manor. Is what you’ve learned truly the martial arts of Cheonmyeong Manor?”
At those words, Hyeon Jin-myeong stiffened.
His martial art was a secret no one in the world should know.
What he had learned was Shura Exploding Heaven Art (修羅爆天功), a Demonic Art he had stumbled upon in an old bookshop.
He had been captivated instantly by its promise of rapid strength and chose to practice it.
The Shura Exploding Heaven Art amplified his Cheonmyeong Manor martial arts twofold, even threefold.
That was the true power of Demonic Arts.
On the surface, he looked like a practitioner of Cheonmyeong’s arts, but within, he was filled with the Shura Exploding Heaven Art.
No one could tell. No one could feel it.
But the problem began when he advanced from the Fourth to the Fifth Stage.
That was why Demonic Arts were called inhuman and depraved.
Up to the Fourth Stage, there was little consequence—but from the Fifth, the practitioner’s body craved human blood.
Hyeon Jin-myeong had tried to resist, but eventually succumbed to the demonic urge. He had slipped out of Shin Chang-ui’s estate to sate his thirst, only to encounter the Sword Spirit.
The origin of martial arts never changes.
Whether Orthodox, Unorthodox, or something in between, the flow of energy always moved forward.
But Hyeon Jin-myeong’s energy now flowed in reverse.
“I’ll ask again. The martial art you’re practicing—is it truly Cheonmyeong Manor’s?”
