Geomryong Namgung Jong. Today, he was in a particularly good mood.
The reason was simple. After winning the Dragon Phoenix Gathering and receiving the alias of Geomryong, countless people had sent him both praise and envy.
As the young head of the Namgung Clan, he had always lived under the compulsion to be the best. To be acknowledged as the best in such a public setting was, without a doubt, an indescribable joy in itself.
Even Namgung Jong's father, who always held him to strict standards, had broken into a wide smile for the first time in a long while.
Following tradition, it was only natural that this year's Dragon and Phoenix Gathering, hosted by the victor Namgung Jong, would be held on a grand and lavish scale.
'Good.'
A feast piled high enough to bend the table legs. Fine liquor gathered from every inn across Muhan City. And promising rising talents filling the empty seats.
Places like the Five Great Families and the Nine Great Sects and One Gang, which were practically the pillars of the current Orthodox Sects' martial world, were of course present—along with those who had once belonged to them, or those from prestigious clans that might one day challenge them.
And there were also those who, despite their humble backgrounds, possessed such outstanding talent that they would one day shine, gathering in small groups to converse.
Some places discussed the Dao of martial arts, others talked about family business, and one could often see attempts to recruit unaffiliated talents.
To Namgung Jong's eyes, the scene looked like a gathering of refined dignity, quite different from a drinking party on Market Street, and he felt genuinely pleased.
Of course, the fact that these gatherings often led to arguments that escalated into sparring matches, or that young men and women would catch each other's eyes and get into trouble in secluded corners, meant there wasn't much difference from any other drinking party.
But having swung a sword his entire life and hosted a gathering for the first time, Namgung Jong couldn't have known that.
For that reason, Namgung Jong sat at the head table, smiling with satisfaction as he tossed back his drink.
Since it was his first time drinking alcohol at all, his face quickly scrunched up, but conscious of the eyes around him, he put on a calm expression once more.
'It's bitter and smells strange. I don't know why anyone drinks this.'
Whether he knew Namgung Jong was grumbling to himself or not, a burly man approached with a hearty laugh.
"Hahaha! As expected of Brother Namgung. Even your drinking is bold and unrestrained!"
"…I don't recall ever becoming your brother, Hwangbo Gwang. Besides, aren't you much older than me?"
"Don't worry about such trivial details. If we drink together, aren't we as good as brothers? Come, come. Let this younger brother pour you a cup!"
"Enough. There are still those who haven't arrived. I can't afford to get drunk first."
"Oh! I didn't think of that! Understood. Then let's drink together later! Hahaha!"
Hwangbo Gwang stepped back with a feigned look of admiration. But Namgung Jong's gaze on him remained cold.
'Hwangbo Gwang. A perfect example of someone who bullies the weak and fears the strong, wasted on a body like that. Even now, he's clinging to me, trying to get something out of me. And on top of that, he's the kind of scum that even the Hwangbo Clan, which is full of troublemakers by nature, tries to keep quiet about. There's not a single good reason to get close to someone like him.'
The Namgung Clan was a family that always strived for the best. Choosing who to associate with was only natural for Namgung Jong.
And so, Namgung Jong kept his distance from Hwangbo Gwang, who seemed destined to cause some huge incident one day. But on the flip side, this meant he was endlessly generous to those who could be of use to him or who were worthy enough to stand by his side.
"Um, excuse me. You're the young hero Namgung, right? Thank you for inviting me to the Dragon Phoenix Gathering. I'm so delighted—"
"Oh! Isn't this Maehwa Geombong, Lady Wi? I've often heard that the swords of Mount Hua are both beautiful and deadly, but seeing one in person, I can't express how impressed I am… If you don't mind, could we perhaps talk about swords for a moment?"
"Huh? Ah, yes."
It was only natural for Namgung Jong to suddenly become friendly in front of Wi Ji-suryeon, one of the most promising rising talents in Mount Hua Sect.
Of course, there were also the minor reasons that Namgung Jong was interested in the swordsmanship of Mount Hua, and that Wi Ji-suryeon's beauty was close to his ideal type.
In any case, Namgung Jong was in the middle of an enthusiastic conversation with Wi Ji-suryeon, as if determined not to let this opportunity slip by.
That was when the two people who had been the talk of the town recently walked in.
Tang So-wol of the Sichuan Tang Clan. And her betrothed, Cheon Hwi.
While public opinion of Cheon Hwi—who had been kidnapped without putting up much of a fight—was hardly favorable, Namgung Jong held no such prejudice.
'After all, there's no way anyone could properly resist a Harmony Realm martial artist.'
Having grown up watching his father, the Sword King, up close, he knew well just how terrifying Harmony Realm martial artists were.
Even if Namgung Jong himself had been in that situation, it wouldn't have made much of a difference.
If anything, he held a high opinion of the resourcefulness Cheon Hwi had shown by bringing the Harmony Realm martial artist who had kidnapped him into the Tang Clan.
As Namgung Jong, he couldn't fully gauge the martial level of Tang So-wol and Cheon Hwi. That meant they were martial artists who had at least reached the same Peak Realm as himself.
That alone was reason enough for Namgung Jong to want to get closer to the two of them.
And so, it was the moment he paused his conversation with Wi Ji-suryeon to greet the slightly late guests.
A man and a woman entered arm in arm. Among them, an inexplicable chill emanated from Cheon Hwi's side.
"Hup."
"This is…"
"Surely not?"
Gasps of breath could be heard from all around. Though the gazes weren't directed at him, he could sense it instinctively.
A subtle aura emanated from Cheon Hwi, spreading out to swallow the entire surrounding area.
For some reason, Namgung Jong himself and Wi Ji-suryeon beside him were fine, but the others couldn't take their eyes off Cheon Hwi.
Though he felt a sense of dissonance in the surrounding energy, he was only briefly puzzled by the fact that there was no pressure being exerted on him at all.
"Ah."
'I heard that Lady Wi has been friends with Lady Tang since childhood. And I am the clan head who sent out the invitation letters in the first place, so perhaps she is simply showing me proper courtesy.'
Normally, one would be expected to harbor resentment toward Cheon Hwi for causing a commotion at a banquet he himself had hosted.
But Namgung Jong was different. In the midst of all this, he felt a little pleased that Cheon Hwi seemed to acknowledge him as the winner of the Dragon Phoenix Gathering and the host of the Dragon and Phoenix Gathering. He was a fairly positive person.
As Namgung Jong's lips twitched, Tang So-wol, having noticed her betrothed's eccentric behavior, gave him a look of some sort, and Cheon Hwi's aura receded.
But that did not mean he had fully reined it in.
His aura had not spilled outward, yet it still carried the chill of their earlier clash. Only after the storm had passed did Namgung Jong get a proper look at him.
He seemed quite young. Unlike Tang So-wol, who had long since passed the age of twenty, his face was still boyish, as if he had not yet reached that milestone.
However, youth did not necessarily mean inexperience.
His clothes were neat, but they were not stiff new garments—they were his usual attire, bearing the marks of battle.
The sword at his waist was well-maintained, a constant reminder that it could be drawn at any moment.
He carried himself like a seasoned master who had weathered decades in the martial world.
And what of the aura he had displayed moments ago? Namgung Jong had not faced it directly, so he could not say for certain, but every one of those gathered here was a rising talent—the kind who would one day define the future of the Orthodox Sects' martial world.
To overwhelm such people, even for a moment, was clearly no ordinary feat.
However, what troubled Namgung Jong the most was something else entirely.
It was Cheon Hwi's gaze.
'From what I heard, he was a wanderer by origin.'
Even if he had lived with the Tang Clan for a few years, one's lifelong habits are not easily shed, so it would not be easy to grow accustomed to such a banquet.
It wasn't just the splendor, but also the weight of the names gathered here.
Yet Cheon Hwi seemed utterly unconcerned with all of it, merely casting a detached gaze around the room.
Those were surely the eyes of a man, yet they gave off the strange sensation of looking at light reflected off a sword's blade.
Then, in that moment when their eyes happened to meet, Namgung Jong understood.
"Ah."
What was reflected in those eyes were only two things. That which could be cut, and that which could not.
Overwhelmed by the impression of a bloodthirsty wolf—or perhaps a famed sword always ready to test itself against him—Namgung Jong recalled it.
Blood Flower Sword Demon. An alias too grand and ominous to be attached to a rising talent, but because the Lord of the Black Alliance had pushed it so forcefully, no one dared object, and it had begun to spread as Cheon Hwi's alias.
Along with the alias, rumors had circulated that Cheon Hwi had single-handedly exterminated an entire sword sect and even cut down a Transcendent Peak martial artist.
But the rumors were so absurd that no one believed them that far. There were also quite a few who thought the alias had been given by the Lord of the Black Alliance as a mockery.
'A foolish thought, that was.'
What Cheon Hwi looked like through Namgung Jong's eyes was the real thing. Perhaps, starting from this moment, the thoughts of others would slowly begin to change as well.
Namgung Jong nodded inwardly in admiration.
'It's fortunate that I have the chance to meet him now, even at this late hour.'
Like the elders of his family, Namgung Jong always aspired to become the greatest swordsman. But that was only the final goal. He was well aware that he still had a long way to go.
Someone like Cheon Hwi would surely be of great help on the journey toward becoming the number one sword under heaven.
In that brief moment, he hid the ambition that had caught fire, and smiled at Wi Ji-suryeon, who was looking back and forth between Tang So-wol and Cheon Hwi with a bewildered expression.
"It was a pleasant conversation, Lady Wi. It seems a new guest has arrived, so I'll take my leave first."
"Yes… No, let's go together. I was planning to greet So-wol anyway."
Thus, the two of them headed toward where Tang So-wol and Cheon Hwi were standing, accompanied by Wi Ji-suryeon.
By the time the two crossed the banquet hall and arrived before Tang So-wol and Cheon Hwi.
No spoken words could be heard, but from the way her lips were moving rapidly, it seemed Tang So-wol was urgently sending a Voice Transmission.
As for Cheon Hwi, that sharp, blade-like aura from moments ago was nowhere to be seen—he was now sulking and muttering to himself with a sullen expression.
It was plain to see that he had been scolded by his older Betrothed for needlessly flaring his Aura.
The Cheon Hwi who had seemed formidable, if somewhat dangerous, just moments ago had suddenly taken on the familiar air of a boy his age.
"Heh."
At that, Namgung Jong let out a dry laugh and opened his mouth, but—
"Welcome, you've come…"
"Hold on there, young brother! No matter how you look at it, you're a guest who came at Brother Namgung's invitation, so wasn't that just now far too rude? This won't do! I, Cheolgol Gwonhyeop Hwangbo Gwang, the younger brother of Brother Namgung, intend to personally teach this junior a lesson!"
"…?"
Hwangbo Gwang, who had cut in a step ahead of him, raised his voice and berated Cheon Hwi.
For a moment, Namgung Jong wore a blank expression, unable to understand what was happening. Toward him, Hwangbo Gwang flashed a sly grin.
"…!"
Only then did Namgung Jong realize that Hwangbo Gwang was deliberately acting tough to curry favor with him, and he tried to stop him.
Not only did he not want to cause unnecessary trouble, but no matter how he thought about it, the gap in their skill levels was simply too vast.
It wasn't as if Cheon Hwi was seriously trying to suppress his opponent—he had merely revealed his presence through his Aura.
Even that alone was enough to momentarily overwhelm everyone in the room.
But did Hwangbo Gwang take that as his full strength? Or perhaps he simply couldn't imagine that someone as young-looking as Cheon Hwi could have reached such a level.
Hwangbo Gwang charged in headfirst like a wild boar running amok.
"Stop, Hwangbo Gwang. There was indeed a commotion, but there was no killing intent in it, and it wasn't rude enough to warrant—"
Namgung Jong grabbed Hwangbo Gwang's shoulder, trying to forcefully halt him.
"Kyaaah!"
The moment his hand touched Hwangbo Gwang, the man let out a disgraceful scream as if he had been cut by a blade and collapsed on the spot.
Hwangbo Gwang clutched his own neck. As a damp liquid seeped from between his legs half a beat too late, Namgung Jong's face twisted in disgust.
'At this rate, it looks like I'm the one who made Hwangbo Gwang piss himself.'
Namgung Jong clicked his tongue inwardly. Before him, Cheon Hwi—the apparent culprit—wore a faint smile.
"Thank you for the invitation. …It's a bit fragrant in here, so would you mind if we moved elsewhere to finish our greetings?"
Faced with such brazenness, all Namgung Jong could do was nod.