Namgung Jong, who had been sleeping as peacefully as if he were dead, regained consciousness not long after I checked his pulse and administered simple first aid.
Of course, his internal injuries remained as they were, so he immediately entered Qi Circulation Meditation.
"You useless son… you went on ahead of me."
"You've quite taken a liking to that."
Namgung Dowi, who had been gazing at Namgung Jong with sunken eyes, let out a snicker and curled the corner of his mouth.
"My, my. It seems three times is enough to show. But half of it was sincere."
"He simply overexerted himself; the internal injuries themselves aren't that severe. He'll finish his Qi Circulation Meditation and get up soon enough."
"That's not what I meant. It's just a pity that, having lost consciousness, he won't be able to watch the sparring bout between you and me from here on."
"Ah, that certainly is a shame."
If it were anyone else, it might be different, but both I and Namgung Dowi are people who have no qualms about revealing our martial arts to each other.
If Namgung Jong had somehow been able to watch this, he would have gained something from it.
"Hmm. Well then, I suppose we'll just wait until his Qi Circulation Meditation is done."
"…This is unexpected. I thought that you, White Moon Sword Lord, wouldn't care what your son gained, but I didn't think you'd go out of your way to make sure he gained something."
"What exactly do you take me for?"
"A Sword Demon who became an Orthodox Sect member thanks to a good woman."
"…"
It wasn't a wrong statement, so I couldn't deny it.
That insight was worthy of the Sword King, and for a moment I was at a loss for words. But soon I shook my head and continued.
"What matters is that I've become a member of the Orthodox Sects, isn't it?"
"Indeed. In fact, the Lord of the Black Alliance often laments that he lost a great star of the Unorthodox Sects."
"Were the Namgung Clan and the Black Alliance on such good terms?"
"We once joined hands to subjugate the Green Forest. We've maintained a friendship ever since. He may wield his martial arts for his own desires, but as the head of an organization, he's a remarkable man."
"Yes, well. I am a person, after all. Which is probably why I created the Black Alliance in the first place."
Thinking back, the two of us had grown fairly close even after that sparring bout at the Black Alliance.
We grew even closer later on when we established a working partnership.
Well, that's how it goes. Martial artists are a strange breed—the higher their realm, the harder it becomes to wield their own martial arts.
They worry about their techniques being exposed to others, about feeling like an adult butting into children's games, about seeming like they're showing off their strength, and so on.
The reason higher-realm martial artists shift from physical training to meditation and visualization isn't simply a matter of efficiency.
The fact that fewer and fewer people can match them is also a major problem.
But what about the Namgung Clan?
They don't care whether their martial arts are known or not. If anything, they display them openly, as if to say, "Go ahead and steal them if you can."
A family of sword fanatics whose only concern is reaching a higher realm and perfecting their own swordsmanship.
In a sense, they are the purest of martial artists, so for those who are worn down by politics and resource distribution the higher their standing gets, they must be a truly refreshing presence to deal with.
For someone like the Lord of the Black Alliance, who is nominally bound to the Black Alliance but has only ever seen absolute masters who refuse to listen to a word anyone says, they would be an even more welcome counterpart.
With all these conditions aligning, the result was that, despite being an odd bunch, they somehow developed an uncanny affinity for one another.
Though I never expected him to actually become friendly with the Lord of the Black Alliance.
My serious contemplation of the theory that the Namgung Clan were just puppies was cut short. Finally, Namgung Jong finished his Qi Circulation Meditation and opened his eyes.
Whether he had only been treating his internal injuries or not, he looked thoroughly exhausted, but his eyes sparkled with determination.
"Shall we begin as well now, Sword King?"
"Thank you. But I've been thinking about something—would you care to hear it?"
"What is it?"
"It's been a while since we've seen each other, but haven't we sparred quite often in the meantime?"
"That's true."
"Then rather than engaging in all sorts of tactical maneuvering, how about we exchange the single technique each of us is most confident in?"
"I have no objections, but…"
"As much as I'd like to simply enjoy the sparring itself, White Moon Sword Lord, you've just returned, so you must have a mountain of things to attend to."
"You're right."
After all, I'm nothing more than a live-in son-in-law. And since the wedding ceremony hasn't officially taken place yet, strictly speaking I'm more of a live-in son-in-law candidate, so I don't have many official duties.
But it's not like I haven't stirred up plenty of trouble myself.
Tang So-wol and Maeng Yu-baek can explain the matter with the South Man Beast Palace well enough, but…
There's the formation that concentrates cold energy I promised to set up for Seol Ri-hyang at the North Sea Ice Palace, scouting the land that will become the Seomun Clan's estate, distributing the fortuitous encounters I swept up this time, and cooperating with Tang So-wol's research on the Windfall Pill (tentative name) she plans to create using the Seven Flower Centipede's poison.
It's not like I have just one or two things to do.
"More than anything, if I spar with you, I'll get so caught up in the excitement that I'll end up destroying everything around us. If this were the Namgung Clan's estate, I wouldn't mind, but…"
"Strictly speaking, I'm also living off my father-in-law's hospitality, so I agree."
This is one of the reasons absolute masters don't fight each other easily.
The fact that even a light sparring bout would have considerable impact on the surroundings.
The Murim Alliance and the Black Alliance are, by their very nature, alliances of numerous families and sects, so their scale is enormous.
Naturally, they each have one or two training grounds large and sturdy enough to withstand the clash of Harmony Realm martial artists.
But the Sichuan Tang Clan is not on that level.
As befits one of the Five Great Families, they own an estate the size of a small village, and of course the size and quality of their training grounds are excellent… but not enough to withstand the collision of one aura against another.
I can guarantee that if we got even a little excited, a few pillars or a wall or two would come tumbling down.
Given the Tang Clan's specialty in hidden weapons and poison arts, they've built long, narrow training grounds suited for demonstrating those techniques properly, but their standard training grounds are a bit lacking.
"But somehow, I feel like I'm the one at a disadvantage here. The Sword King has seen my full power any number of times, but I've experienced the Sword King's full power firsthand only a handful of times."
"That's a reasonable point."
Back when I was still at the Transcendent Peak, I'd held back my full power out of consideration for the difference in our realms, and even after I reached the Harmony Realm, the Sword King was still several moves ahead of me during our sparring, so I never pulled out everything.
After I learned the White Sword from my battle with the Sword Demon, there were times when he pushed me to go all out, but compared to how often I'd shown my full strength in front of Namgung Dowi, it was inevitably far too few.
Of course, I wasn't saying it because I truly wanted something more from him. It was just a half-joking complaint laced with a bit of regret.
"But with you as you are now, this one time should be enough. Your eyes seem to have sharpened since we last met."
"…How did you know?"
"There was an ancestor with a similar gift, so I had a suspicion. Besides, though you say the paper is still lacking, your skill is more than enough to claim the Namgung sword. Even for you, seeing through the Namgung Clan's sword arts so easily would be strange, wouldn't it?"
"Oh ho. Could you perhaps tell me a bit more about my eyes?"
"I don't know the details myself. I only know that my ancestor called it the Heavenly Eye, and that it allowed him to see the flow of internal energy — and even the Intent of others — with his own eyes."
"Oh."
So if I train these eyes enough, I might eventually be able to see Intent itself.
Of course, once someone reaches the Harmony Realm, their internal energy and Intent become one, so I wonder if there's even any point in distinguishing between the two.
"Once I return to the Namgung Clan, I'll find the relevant texts and send them to you."
"Thank you. But there's one thing I'm curious about…"
"What is it?"
"By any chance, did that ancestor who awakened the Heavenly Eye ever capture a Harmony Realm Spirit Beast?"
"A Harmony Realm Spirit Beast. They're hard to come by these days, but back then, one of the main duties of martial artists was subjugating Spirit Beasts that caused trouble, so it's possible. As I said earlier, I don't know the details myself, so I'll have to look into it separately. But why the sudden interest in Spirit Beasts?"
"It's because I heard that this vision isn't a martial art—it's the sight of a Spirit Beast that handles internal energy and Intent in its own unique way."
"Hoh. I see. I'll look into that part separately as well. …Now then, focus."
"Yes."
With that, Namgung Dowi drew his sword and slowly raised it.
The stance was largely no different from Namgung Jong's Changgung Muae Sword Art.
Feet spread shoulder-width apart, neck and back straight, arms bent at the proper angle.
The one difference was that instead of the middle stance with the sword tip pointing toward his line of sight, he took the upper stance, raising the sword above his head.
An ordinary yet flawless stance, one with no gaps to exploit.
Even one who has reached Sword-Mind Unity and ascended to the Harmony Realm would find it no easy task to maintain a stance utterly devoid of even a single flaw, so I couldn't help but admire it inwardly.
Then, something began to happen.
Wooong—
A vast amount of internal energy and Intent began to converge around Namgung Dowi's raised sword.
Swords.
Countless swords of different forms, and the countless trajectories they could take, rose in my mind and began to tangle chaotically.
But what was finally completed after all those countless swords interwove was nothing but an open sky—a single-minded will to cut.
I couldn't help but admire the sight—he seemed to be executing the true essence of the Changgung Muae Sword Art that Namgung Jong had shown me, but with far greater proficiency.
But Namgung Dowi's sword was not finished there.
The sky he had woven with his sword. Upon it, he laid his own blade.
This was not a simple upper stance raised for an easier cut. It was an arrogantly defiant posture—one that declared he would crush the countless sword techniques he had built over a lifetime into a single strike.
The founder of the Namgung Clan was a collateral branch of the previous dynasty, not the current one. They said he was of the bloodline of a feudal prince.
No longer could they claim to be of imperial blood anywhere. Though they were the overlords of one region, they did not formally hold Anhui Province, nor could they govern the people who lived within it.
What remained for Namgung Dowi now was only the alias of Sword King—a title of a mere martial artist—the sword heritage built alongside the Namgung Clan's history, and a single sword capable of pressing down upon it all.
But for a swordsman, that was enough.
The Imperial Sword Art.
The current Sword King was clearly an emperor standing atop a throne forged from the sword.
If that was the case, then I had no choice but to draw out something that corresponded to it.
Naturally, I released the strength in my arm and let the sword droop diagonally. My aura compressed, dyeing the ink-colored blade white, and over it layered the enlightenment I had accumulated over decades within the waist pouch.
The sword that resided in the deepest part of my mind. It was impermanent, for no malice could touch it without scattering.
It was impermanent, for even after losing its original form through long frustration, it still sought to be a sword.
A formless enlightenment gained from a place without substance.
As the Formless Sword layered over the white blade, the surrounding scenery began to distort under the weight of the immense Intent concentrated upon it.
A smile traced itself across Namgung Dowi's eyes as he watched.
"I had thought the Namgung Clan and you shared certain similarities, but now I see we are complete opposites."
"So it seems."
A single sword forged from every sword in the world as its material.
A sword assembled from things that had never existed anywhere, and could never exist—a sword that was a sword, yet not a sword.
After a brief silence, two swords of opposing nature swung simultaneously.
An immense pressure, as if the heavens themselves were collapsing just to cut down one man.
And the single sword meant to cut what could not be cut clashed against its counterpart.
——————!!
An energy wave burst forth in that instant. Along with a weight that felt like it would tear my arms off, my blood and qi blazed as if about to ignite.
Overheated Intent clashed against Intent, each carving deep into the other, and for a moment my vision flashed white. And then.
KWAANG!
By the time I came to my senses, a thunderous roar loud enough to deafen my ears reached me, along with the sensation of something being severed and sent flying from my fingertips.
"Huuuk… Haaah."
I had only swung my sword once, yet my breath surged all the way to my chin. As I barely managed to steady it, a breeze blowing from afar cooled my heated body.
What was revealed as the dust that had risen scattered away on the wind was—
"What is this."
It was the sight of the training ground, completely shattered and collapsed, except for where I stood and the space behind me.
It looked like it had been carved out to about the depth of a child's waist. How was this possible? When building a training ground, of all things, they would have surely checked the foundation.
And yet, for it to collapse like this… it meant it had been crushed under an enormous pressure.
My awe at the full power of the Imperial Sword Art lasted only a moment. Unlike me, who looked ready to collapse at any moment, the Sword King, his voice still unhurried, let out a long sigh.
"My, I've lost."
"Pardon?"
I raised my head, wondering what he meant. On Namgung Dowi's neck, as he sheathed his sword with a bitter smile, a shallow but long sword wound was etched, blood dripping from it.
Namgung Dowi, having lightly sealed the bleeding with acupoint sealing, touched his wound and spoke.
"If this had been a life-and-death duel, and you hadn't adjusted your angle, your sword would have not only cut through mine but sliced off my neck in one stroke."
"If I had been a bit more exhausted, I think I would have been flattened by the Sword King's sword instead."
"You were still fatigued from the journey just now. 'Ifs' mean nothing. So let's judge only this sparring bout."
"Ah…"
Seeing that I still couldn't easily accept it, Namgung Dowi curled the corners of his mouth into a grin.
"Well, it seems I'll have to give up the seat of Sword King soon enough."
"…"
I had surpassed the Sword King.
Only now did the reality of it truly sink in.
***
"Ah, speaking of which, your guests should be arriving soon, son-in-law."
"Pardon?"
At the dinner table.
Tang Jincheon, who had been growing weary of the boasting that was thinly disguised as an explanation of the collapsed training ground, forced a change of subject.
Though he seemed reluctant to stop showing off, I figured I could let him have his fill tomorrow, so I decided to go along with it for now.
"Will there be guests coming to see me?"
"There are plenty who come calling. It's just that few of them are worth considering guests for my son-in-law."
"There you go again, painting me as someone with character flaws. Hoo. Even the future number one under heaven can't escape slander, it seems."
"You, you ill-mannered… Well, that's not what I meant! After all, you already know about this."
As I tilted my head, pretending not to catch his meaning, Tang Jincheon let out another sigh and spoke.
"The military advisor of the Murim Alliance, the abbot of Shaolin Temple, and the previous abbot."
"Ah."
It seemed he was ready to look into the matter once more.