The Grand Yan Sword Art. Namgung Jong had said it was a simple martial art, the first thing one learned after mastering the basics, but from what I'd experienced firsthand, it was anything but simple.
Clang!
A clear metallic ring echoed across the training ground. The sword path was supposed to be concise, yet it felt especially vicious.
Neither of us had wrapped ourselves in Sword Qi, of course, and we'd even adjusted our physical capabilities to a similar level over several Exchanges, yet Namgung Jong's sword still felt like it carried something beyond all that.
No, it actually did. His obsession with the sword, his understanding of it, was overflowing through his Sword Art.
That was the Great Yan.
Techniques that were heavy when they needed to be heavy, light when they needed to be light, and flashy when they needed to be flashy.
…And this was something all too familiar.
I had no fixed techniques, but my basic combat style shared common ground with the Great Yan Sword Art.
Clang!
I struck the side of the heavy sword as it fell with a blunt, honest force, pushing it aside. Then I lightly lifted my feet from the ground.
I wasn't trying to disrupt Namgung Jong's trajectory. After all, if everything else was equal, I wouldn't be able to block that sword.
So instead, I used the reaction force to push my own body to the side. Having thus evaded the strike, I immediately thrust my sword forward.
It was a slight variation of the technique that normally involved deflecting the opponent's sword and then pressing in with a thrust.
The sword that surged up from below my waist was like the fang of a wolf that never missed an opportunity.
"Hup!"
Namgung Jong pulled his body back and spun around in a full circle.
My sword lost its power and its aura against the arc traced by his silver blade. It was like getting my teeth knocked out before I could even bite down.
The exchange between Namgung Jong's Daeyeon Sword Art and my Blood Wolf Sword continued in this same fashion.
The flow went like this: I would respond to Namgung Jong's techniques as he unleashed them one after another, striking back in turn, and when I took the offensive first, he would meet my attacks head-on.
Perhaps it was because, although our fighting styles were similar, the level of our martial arts was too different.
There was one difference, though: Namgung Jong wielded the techniques of the Daeyeon Sword Art without any particular variation, while I applied a slight modification to every single technique.
Other than that, it was as if we both knew without saying when to swing our swords and which techniques to unleash.
The exchange felt like a performance. Which was what made it fun.
Of course, one couldn't show off only a single martial art forever.
Whether he shared my thoughts or not, Namgung Jong, having created some distance, spoke up instead of charging in again.
"Don't you think we've done about enough? Shall we move on to the next?"
"Very well. The martial art I'll be showing next has no name. Even the martial artist who taught it to me died without naming it, saying it was still incomplete."
"Still, it's a pity that a martial art which hasn't been forgotten—one that someone remembers and has trained their body in—should go nameless. How about your younger brother gives it a name, even a temporary one?"
"…Now that I hear it, you're not wrong. Then, I'll name it Chamjeok Sword, after its original purpose."
A second-rate, incomplete sword method I had learned by offering up everything I owned at the time.
Of course, to me it was everything I owned, but to that martial artist, it was probably little more than pocket change.
Even so, the reason he willingly taught me was simple. He believed that one day he could create a remarkable martial art, and he wanted to build his own sect upon that foundation.
The condition for teaching me was that if he ever founded a sect, I would become his first disciple. That said it all.
In truth, the martial art he taught me was a fairly decent sword technique. Had it been completed, it would have surely been called a first-rate martial art.
But in the end, he died before achieving his goal. He had taken on a merchant caravan's escort to earn money, and while dealing with the Green Forest bandits, he lost his life all too meaninglessly.
He was a bit fond of money, but among the Unorthodox Sects, he was a decent person in his own way…
At any rate, the goal he had sought to achieve in his lifetime. The standard for completing a martial art was to slice even a falling raindrop in two.
That was why I named it Chamjeok Sword.
"To slice a raindrop, you say. That must be a truly fine swift sword."
"I'm about to show you, so you can feel it for yourself. …Ah, it's so incomplete that I've filled in a few gaps myself. Is that alright?"
"Is that not still the sword of Brother Cheon? I don't wish to see the sword of some nameless swordsman—I wish to see yours."
"Then allow me."
I curled my lips into a grin and stepped forward. At the same time, I lowered my upper body and twisted it to the side.
Namgung Jong's eyes gleamed with interest at the unusual stance, and he adjusted his own posture.
"Just as I thought, it seems to be a swift sword. Then I shall face you with a swift sword of my own."
As his shoulders drooped, the tip of his sword followed suit, pointing downward. A perfect level of relaxed power. In that state, no matter what trajectory the sword traced, it would extend naturally.
Namgung Jong spoke, taking a stance that was the exact opposite of my taut, tensed body.
"This is the Cheonpung Sword Art. Like yours, it is a sword focused on the Mystery of Speed."
"I don't think that's all there is to it."
"Isn't it? Then you'll have to find out what else is hidden yourself."
Namgung Jong let out a hearty laugh. Taking the moment the laughter ceased as our signal, we swung our swords simultaneously.
From my ankles, knees, waist, shoulders, elbows, and down to my wrists—every joint and muscle in my body writhed solely for the purpose of swinging the sword.
Right now, I am a single bow. A bow meant to loose the arrow that is my sword with blinding speed.
My coiled joints rotated, my muscles added their elasticity to the motion, and my sword became a swift blade too fast for the eye to follow.
Kang!
Namgung Jong's sword met mine, swung with speed slightly inferior to my own but more than enough to parry.
If this had been the Chamjeok Sword as I first learned it, that would have been the end. It was a martial art meant solely to split raindrops, to deliver a single fastest strike.
In other words, it had no follow-through. For that reason, even though I had mixed the mysteries of the Chamjeok Sword into my other techniques, I had never used it on its own.
But now. Having witnessed the unbroken flow of the Zhongnan Sect and tried even a little to emulate it, I was different.
"Hup!"
I forced the extreme sword stroke—meant to end in a single motion—to continue.
"Huh?"
Flustered, Namgung Jong hurriedly parried the sword that was swung again.
But this was not the end. Even his broken stance was turned into a foothold for the next sword strike, and he continued his assault without pause.
It was a skill possible only when one had complete control over one's own body and, on that basis, could see one's own sword one move or more ahead.
The Chamjeok Sword was a sword meant to cut raindrops. And rain did not fall one drop at a time.
Countless raindrops, so numerous that one could not even dare to count them, filled heaven and earth.
To cut all of them away, one had to unleash sword strikes like a pouring torrential rain without end.
"This… how can this be called an incomplete martial art?"
Namgung Jong let out a hollow laugh as he frantically moved his arms to match my sword strikes.
No matter how quickly I cut, no matter how I probed for an opening, Namgung Jong's sword responded appropriately to mine.
This was more than just a fast sword…
"So this is the meaning of the Cheonpung Sword Method."
"Heh. You figured it out already?"
"At this point, it would be stranger if I hadn't."
Cheonpung. Just as its name meant a wind racing across the sky, Namgung Jong's sword was free—and freer still.
The Mystery of Speed was merely a means to achieve that freedom. It was never the goal.
Unlike the Chamjeok Sword, whose only aim was to swing fast, this sword was fundamentally different in nature.
But what did that matter?
A sword that sought to imitate the wind was certainly noble, yet a sword was, by its very nature, a thing forged for reasons far removed from nobility.
Above all, the Chamjeok Sword was a blade meant to cut through such nobility.
"Try receiving this one as well."
Since this was a sparring bout rather than a life-and-death duel, I gave prior warning before accelerating the speed of my sword swing.
The sword that sought to imitate the wind and the sword that had to become like rain in order to part raindrops tangled together in a chaotic clash.
Just as a violent storm was raging, I was the one who gained the upper hand in the fierce exchange where neither side yielded a single inch.
Thwang!
Namgung Jong was pushed back half a step as his sword was knocked far away.
It wasn't enough of a gap to decide the victor. But it was proof that my Chamjeok Sword had surpassed Namgung Jong's Cheonpung Sword Method, even if only by a little.
Instead of continuing with the next strike, Namgung Jong lowered his sword for a moment.
"Impressive. Truly impressive. That sword was clearly incomplete. At first, I thought you had simply added something to it, that it was a different sword art mixed in… but to think you would choose the method of completing it while it remained incomplete."
"Thank you. The Cheonpung Sword Method was also remarkable. It's no wonder they say the Namgung Clan lives up to its name."
"I'm a bit embarrassed. To be honest, I thought I would be the one to gain the upper hand to some degree."
"Well. That's what everyone would think."
I had indeed completed the Chamjeok Sword in my own way. If it was a sword that invested everything into a single strike, a sword with no turning back, then all I had to do was repeat it over and over again.
However, this was only a hasty conclusion at best. It could hardly compare to the Cheonpung Sword Art, which had been researched and refined over a long period of time.
In fact, if one were to compare purely on the level of swordsmanship, the Cheonpung Sword Art was far ahead.
That was only natural, since the Cheonpung Sword Art was clearly an advanced martial art.
Moreover, the level of accomplishment of Namgung Jong, who wielded it, was by no means shallow.
The only reason he was pushed back by me despite having clearly mastered the Cheonpung Sword Art was one thing.
It was his understanding of the sword.
"Young brother Cheon… you handle the sword better than I do."
"You flatter me."
"You flatter me. I knew that among the rising talents, there were those stronger than me, those smarter than me, and those with vast internal energy. But I never imagined I would meet someone whose understanding of the sword surpassed mine purely through insight."
Namgung Jong was genuinely astonished. Receiving a look like that stung my conscience a little. Just a little.
And that was only natural—strictly speaking, I was no longer of an age to be called a rising talent.
I had wielded a sword for far longer than Namgung Jong had been alive, so wasn't it only natural that I wielded it far better?
Of course, I couldn't very well say that out loud, so I would have to let him keep misunderstanding.
Still, setting aside the discomfort in my conscience, the sparring bout with Namgung Jong had been a great help to me as well.
I felt like I had caught a glimpse of what the Namgung Clan pursued in the sword.
Seomun Hwa-rin had told me not to compromise and to aim higher. Honestly, I had been a little puzzled by what she meant… but.
Having now seen a glimpse of the Namgung Clan's swordsmanship, I felt I understood something.
A martial art where one's understanding of the sword directly translates into the power of one's techniques, and which only reveals its true form when enlightenment overflows—the Daeyeon Sword Art.
The Cheonpung Sword Art, which seeks to become the wind roaming the heavens, chasing freedom on the basis of the swift sword.
To me, all of it had sounded like chasing clouds in the sky… but if it was actually meant to force one to look beyond the opponent in front of them.
And if, as Seomun Hwa-rin had said, it allowed one to aim higher, to keep advancing without compromise and without being broken.
If the scenery drawn at the end of that path was connected by a single… single-minded will.
Then the Namgung Clan's martial arts were not something to be examined one by one—their true substance only revealed itself when one saw the whole.
I opened my mouth, my heart slightly stirred.
"I still have several martial arts left to practice, but what about you, Brother Namgung?"
"Hmm? I only have the Lightning Thirteen Swords and the Soul-Severing Sword left now. After that, only the Changgung Muae Sword Art and the Jewang Geomhyeong remain."
"I have a bit more than that, so I'd like to move at a slightly faster pace… if that's alright with you."
"Oh my. I never imagined it would be to that extent. Then by all means, do so. I'll move on to the next sword art when the moment feels right on my end."
"Understood. Then let's resume."
After that, my sparring bouts with Namgung Jong continued for a long time.
From the martial arts I'd learned that bordered on tricks, all the way to the decent advanced martial arts.
The traces of my flailing before the regression—struggling to fill the gaps in my shallow foundation—began to show themselves in full.
Namgung Jong began each time with a cheerful laugh, deflecting my attacks with his own martial arts.
Sometimes I was pushed back, sometimes Namgung Jong was, but overall, I held a clear advantage.
This remained unchanged even after I moved beyond the Changgung Muae Sword Art and unleashed the Jewang Geomhyeong.
The pressure felt from all sides. The aura flowing from his sword was so intense it could claim the title of an emperor… but to me, who had begun to fully operate the Crazy Wolf Life-Stealing Art, it somehow seemed clumsy.
No matter how full of spirit his aura was, it couldn't suppress my killing intent, and his powerful sword art that crushed opponents head-on couldn't unfold properly because of my sword, which would slip through any gap and bite down.
The final exchange ended even more anticlimactically than before. The sparring bout went to me, but before I could rejoice, I found myself blurting out.
"Brother Namgung."
"…?"
"You suit the Changgung Muae Sword Art better than the Jewang Geomhyeong."
"…!"
I thought I understood why he had been called the Azure Heaven Sword Lord before the regression.