Seomun Hwa-rin had raised the suspicion that I might actually be a distant blood relative of the Namgung Clan, but surprisingly, it was immediately denied.
"That's not it."
"I don't think so either, but how can you be so certain right away?"
"That's because we have a fairly good grasp of the Namgung Clan's bloodline."
"Pardon?"
I blinked for a moment, unable to believe that a man who seemed to know nothing but the sword would be so meticulous about bloodlines.
Namgung Dowi opened his mouth with a bitter expression.
"Hasn't it been quite some time since the Namgung Clan came to be called the greatest clan in the world? Those who come coveting that influence are not one or two."
"Ah."
"Those who simply wish to learn the Namgung Clan's sword arts are fine, at least. We can pick those with decent character and marry them into the true Namgung bloodline. However, most come seeking only gold and power, and to such scoundrels, we cannot dare grant the Namgung name, can we?"
"So that's why you've been keeping track of how far the Namgung Clan's collateral branches have spread."
"Correct. Still, by the next generation, there won't be a need to worry this much, so the child will be able to focus a bit more on the sword."
"Did something happen?"
Namgung Dowi, who had been clearing a suitable open space by swinging his sword at rocks and small trees, looked back at me with an expression that seemed to ask what nonsense I was talking about.
"Soon, the name of the greatest clan in the world will belong not to the Namgung Clan, but to the Sichuan Tang Clan."
"Hmm…"
"Don't make such a face. It's true that the Namgung Clan grew to its current size thanks to the title of greatest clan in the world, but I'm not clinging to it. If anything, I have more time to focus on the sword, and I feel lighter for it."
"Knowing that you feel that way puts my mind at ease."
"Above all, even if the title of greatest clan in the world has changed, the title of best sword family in the world still belongs to the Namgung Clan, does it not?"
"…"
The sun rises in the east, the moon shines at night, and Seomun Hwa-rin is not senile. Namgung Dowi spoke of the best sword family in the world with the same calm tone one would use to state such self-evident truths.
In a way, it was an arrogant statement—but at the same time, who but Namgung Dowi had the right to be so arrogant?
I nodded in silent admiration, and Namgung Dowi, standing across from me, drew his sword.
A clean draw, so smooth that not even the sound of the blade scraping against the sheath could be heard. The white sword body caught the sunlight and gleamed.
"This should be enough. Draw your sword."
"I ask for your guidance."
I too drew the sword from my waist. The lusterless black blade absorbed the light, making its presence known.
A brief standoff. Silence flowed as if the conversation we had just been having was a lie.
And yet, we were still conversing. Not with our voices, but with our Auras.
Our two Auras, which resembled swords to the utmost, aimed at each other, sometimes clashing, and in the end, sharpening their edges once more.
Thanks to that, my senses grew keener, and I could feel not only my opponent but also the gazes of those watching our sparring bout with greater clarity.
And yet, all this quiet commotion is overwritten by a single, overwhelming presence.
Kuuuung—
A unique Aura erupts from Namgung Dowi at his center. It is not a matter of size or intensity.
It feels as though one is facing the heavens themselves, descended upon the earth.
Until now, it had been a simple greeting—a test to see whether I had truly reached the Harmony Realm, and whether that state was complete.
But what he emanates now is not the Aura of Namgung Dowi the individual. It is the Aura of the Namgung Clan itself.
I had experienced it before, and I already knew it in my head… but facing it again after ascending to the Harmony Realm, the feeling is quite different.
In the past, it was an Aura that was simply distant, simply lofty, enough to make one gasp for air. Namgung Dowi, who evoked the image of a sky built from swords.
…but now, that feeling of being utterly out of reach no longer holds.
The Namgung Clan's sword still draws an involuntary gasp of admiration, as it did the first time I saw it, but it no longer overwhelms me.
I draw up my internal energy, seize it with my Intent, and shape it into a single form.
Woong.
Like waking from sleep, or a blade being drawn from its sheath, a pale Aura envelops the sword.
Namgung Dowi watches this in silence, then a bright smile blooms across his lips. And then.
Tat.
It is not I who moves first—it is Namgung Dowi's sword.
The distance closes swiftly. A blue Sword Force falls straight down from above.
It looks like an ordinary slash with no particular Skill… but in truth, it is not so simple a sword.
Footwork that carries speed. A fleeting instant that subtly blocks the opponent's breathing. Precise movements of joints and muscles. The angle of the blade. The circulation of internal energy. The concentration of Intent, and more.
At a glance, it was a sword in which every art imaginable was packed tightly into a plain vertical slash.
Anyone seeing it would not be blamed for mistaking him for a Swordsman who had devoted his entire life to a single vertical cut.
I stare wide-eyed at Namgung Dowi's sword as it approaches—fast, and heavy—and then I move my own blade.
Naturally, he leaves the barest margin for what comes next, but aside from that, everything about Namgung Dowi was precisely interlocked for that single sword strike.
A truly fearsome Skill. …And precisely because of that, I could see the way to block it.
Hup.
Holding my breath, I swing the sword wrapped in white Aura.
The sword is swung far stronger and wider than usual. It's not quite the Azure-White Flood Dragon, where I'd changed my entire grip, but it's certainly more exaggerated than before.
Namgung Dowi's brow twitches—he knows my martial art well enough to understand that I only put my sword where it's needed, when it's needed, and to the extent it's needed. And then—
KWAANG!
The strike extends a hand's breadth beyond the reach of my Sword Force, slamming into Namgung Dowi's blade.
All the countless arts contained in his sword are, in the end, built upon the experience he's accumulated over the years.
The sword he's swung his entire life, and the martial arts built up by the clan heads before him, bloom at his fingertips.
That is why, when faced with a situation different from his accumulated experience—such as encountering a sword strike that extends beyond the reach of his blade—the flawless sword fails to display its full power.
"This is…"
Namgung Dowi's eyes gleam with a strange light as he gazes at his sword, struck by an invisible blade and forced off its trajectory to embed itself in the ground.
"An invisible sword."
"It's not something worthy of such a grand name."
It's merely a sword wind as solid and sharp as a comparable Aura.
Of course, its power would diminish sharply with distance.
"A martial artist who has reached the Harmony Realm is bound to possess their own pinnacle. Your pinnacle lies in the gap between."
"Well, it wouldn't be much fun if I told you everything myself, would it?"
In truth, it's a little different. Just as the Namgung Clan's sword pursues the infinite, Seomun Hwa-rin's fist seeks a single point of breakthrough, and the Lord of the Black Alliance's spear chases certain strikes.
My sword is swung to touch what cannot be touched, to cut what cannot be cut.
If I had to put it into words, it's not that I freely adjust the gap to cut—it's closer to cutting away the gap itself.
I myself still cannot name what this is. I merely swing with all my heart.
It seemed to be of no concern to Namgung Dowi, though.
With a face full of ecstasy, Namgung Dowi readjusts his grip on his sword.
"Well said. After all, swordsmen speak through their swords, don't they? Ah, and are you no longer using killing intent?"
"Because I don't need to use it, I simply don't. If you wish, I could show you a little."
"Never mind that. Use that time to show me more of your sword instead."
"There's plenty of time for sparring, so there's no need to rush me."
I let out a snicker at how utterly Namgung-like that answer was, and this time, I was the one to swing my sword first.
A pale white Sword Force reminiscent of moonlight cut across the air.
Namgung Dowi's sword, blocking it, traced a trajectory as close to perfection as ever—as it always did. But.
Crack!
"Heok!"
In that process, Namgung Dowi let out a gasp of admiration at the sight of my Sword Force digging into his—just a little, a very little.
It wasn't that I had forged a sharper Intent or anything of the sort. He had clearly noticed from the start that our directions were fundamentally different.
Since we had each shown the other our sword, all that remained was to clash them head-on.
After a single exchange of glances, my sword and Namgung Dowi's began to truly intertwine.
Cutting, parrying, thrusting—sometimes the blue and white Auras gnawed at each other, maintaining a state of stalemate.
The reason my martial art has no particular Technique is to allow me to employ the principle of using the right move at the right time.
And the reason Namgung Dowi's sword is not bound by any Technique is that he knows too many of them.
The old rules—that the fast are easily seen through, the heavy easily deflected, and the sharp easily broken—began to be dissected and denied one by one in the hands of me and Namgung Dowi.
Needless to say, the more we exchanged blows, the more the advantage shifted to Namgung Dowi.
The skill I had built up was not enough to surpass the accumulated years of the Namgung Clan, and my Intent was hardly comparable to that of a veteran who had spent no less than twenty years in the Harmony Realm.
That said, it was not as if I was being helplessly beaten.
My slashes, which cut through space itself, caused Namgung Dowi's sword to lose its path, and my blade, which could sever even the unseverable Qi Sense, threw his senses into confusion.
And Namgung Dowi accepted all of this with delight, crushing it head-on. Though only up to a certain point.
This was a sparring bout, not a life-and-death duel. He was holding back deliberately—not to defeat his opponent, but to feel the opponent's sword a little more properly and add it to his own.
I had thought this before, but unlike other martial families, the Namgung Clan was remarkably open-minded about martial arts.
Not to the extent of the North Sea Ice Palace, which was so cornered that it handed out martial arts to commoners and readily gave its secret arts to Seol Ri-hyang—but open-minded nonetheless.
At least against someone serious about the sword, he doesn't act stingy for no reason. It's as if he's saying, "Go ahead and try to steal it if you can."
In return, though, at some point you'll find your own martial art melting into the Namgung Clan's sword.
Some might be sensitive about that… but at least I'm not.
The exchanges click together as if they were rehearsed. The corners of my mouth rise on their own at the joy that only a sparring bout—not a life-and-death duel—can give.
How many times did I repeat that, setting aside all worries and concerns, focusing purely on swinging the sword?
Before I knew it, the surroundings were filled with traces of shattered and deflected Aura, with cuts covering every direction, and a red sunset hung over the mountain ridge far in the distance.
"We should wrap up today's sparring soon."
"Yes. We still have the sparring with the senior brother ahead of us."
"And when night falls, I've promised to return you to the Tang Clan's daughter. By the time we reach the next village, it will be quite late."
"Ah."
Right. We had stepped off the main road for a moment to cross swords during our journey. If I didn't want to sleep outdoors, I'd need to hurry and find an inn in the next village.
"So, let's bring today's session to a close with this one."
"Very well."
Namgung Dowi and I nodded at the same time and widened the distance between us.
At the same moment, a pressure of a completely different magnitude from before began to emanate from Namgung Dowi.
It felt as though the heavens were pressing down heavily on my shoulders. Yet, this wasn't actually pressuring me.
The Aura emanating from Namgung Dowi at the center. It was closer to me suffocating on the countless sword paths derived from it, rather than any actual pressure.
Jewang Geomhyeong. A martial art created to contain everything that generations of sword-obsessed madmen had accumulated over the years into a single sword strike.
Every instinct in my body rang alarm bells, screaming that no matter how I moved, I would be cut down.
And indeed, the Aura of Jewang Geomhyeong was not mere pressure—it was a sword path that could extend at any moment, so that assessment was probably accurate.
But it didn't matter. I sharpened my Intent, focusing it with the resolve to cut through even that Aura and the as-yet-unleashed sword path.
Cut. Thinking only of that, I gripped the hilt of my sword tightly.
Then, swords moving simultaneously, as if by unspoken agreement. And—
Shuk.
My collar was nicked. Namgung Dowi's sleeve wasn't exactly pristine either, though it took me a moment to notice.
It was only a sparring bout, not a life-and-death duel, but I nodded in satisfaction at the realization that I had grown strong enough to trade exchanges with the Sword King.
Namgung Dowi seemed pleased to properly witness a sword style he didn't know, and nodded in return.
From a short distance away, I heard Tang So-wol's sigh… but there was nothing to be done about that.
Living like this every day would be exhausting, no doubt, but occasionally throwing myself into the sword like a madman and keeping company with those of a similar bent was rather enjoyable.
Well. No matter how much one loves the sword, going too far was never wise.
At the very least, I couldn't afford to make the same mistake as the Sword Demon.
They say words become reality. It hadn't been many days since I began staying with the Black Alliance.
The Unorthodox Sects' finest masters began losing their lives one after another.
Witnesses unanimously called the culprit the Sword Demon.