Namgung Jeong raised his eyebrows and shouted, “What did you say?”
“Are you going to deny it?” Namgung Pung replied with a cold gaze. “I heard everything from Elder Pung.”
His bloodshot eyes burned with a pained expression as he yelled, “How long were you planning to pretend to be my real father?”
Instead of answering, Namgung Jeong took a deep breath.
The truth was, Namgung Pung was not his son but the only child of his elder brother, Namgung Gyeol, who had been brutally killed by the Seven-Finger Demon Blade, Bu Zhanyang.
Pung’s mother, too, had wasted away and died the year after Namgung Gyeol’s murder, consumed by grief.
At the time, Namgung Pung was just a two-year-old infant.
Unable to bear the sight, Namgung Jeong had taken Pung in and raised him as his own son.
“What are you talking about?!” Namgung Jeong shouted.
The corners of Namgung Pung’s mouth curled upward.
“If you’re so righteous, why didn’t you tell me I was Namgung Gyeol’s son?”
“…”
“Was it because you were too ashamed to admit you abandoned your brother out of fear of the Seven-Finger Demon Blade?”
“What did you say?” With a hollow expression, Namgung Jeong asked, “Is that what Elder Pung told you?”
“Is it not true?”
“Of course it’s not.” Namgung Jeong let out a deep sigh, his face a mask of indescribable emotion.
“The Seven-Finger Demon Blade was a master so formidable that even a lifetime of training wouldn’t have been enough for me to defeat him.”
“…”
“But after that incident, the Seven-Finger Demon Blade vanished without a trace. No one has found him since.” Namgung Jeong’s face grew pale as he spoke. “With no target left to take revenge on, I didn’t want you to live burdened by a thirst for vengeance.”
He had trained relentlessly, gritting his teeth, but knew his skills could never match the Seven-Finger Demon Blade.
When the Demon disappeared, revenge became an unattainable dream.
He hadn’t wanted to pass on the pain of an impossible vendetta to Namgung Pung by revealing the truth.
“So, you’re saying you didn’t want to burden me with the pain of an unachievable revenge?” Namgung Pung said.
“Exactly.”
“That’s a pretty good lie.”
Despite hearing the truth, Namgung Pung sneered.
“But you never imagined I’d hear your confession with my own ears, did you?”
“Confession?”
“Do you remember the conversation you had with Elder Pung at Sangwoojeong ten years ago?”
“Sangwoojeong?”
“You admitted it yourself back then. You said it was all your fault that my father died. That you were too afraid of the Seven-Finger Demon Blade to seek revenge.”
Namgung Jeong’s expression twisted strangely.
The faint memory of that conversation with Elder Pung ten years ago surfaced.
“Elder Pung kept asking strange, persistent questions… So that was for you to overhear.” Namgung Jeong finally pieced it all together.
That day, Elder Pung had deliberately brought up his guilt and his brother’s death, orchestrating the conversation to mislead Namgung Pung.
“So, you believed Elder Pung’s nonsense and raised your sword against me?” Namgung Jeong said.
“Don’t act so wronged, Palace Master,” Namgung Pung replied with a faint smile. “Didn’t you also trap my father with a cunning scheme, kill him, and then take the Palace Master’s seat?”
“Hahaha.”
Namgung Jeong burst into incredulous laughter. He realized now that Namgung Pung was beyond reasoning, incapable of understanding no matter how much he explained.
“At the time, the Seven-Finger Demon Blade was an invincible swordsman. No master, righteous or evil, dared to challenge him,” Namgung Jeong said, his face filled with anguish. “But my brother was too confident. He believed the Demon’s reputation was exaggerated and that he could defeat him.”
Recalling that moment, Namgung Jeong let out a heavy breath.
“In the end, my brother tracked down the Seven-Finger Demon Blade and recklessly challenged him. By the time I arrived, he was already a cold corpse.”
“And what are you trying to say?” Namgung Pung asked.
“Enraged, I tried to attack the Seven-Finger Demon Blade immediately. But I couldn’t even draw my sword. He simply passed by, as if he had no interest in me.” Namgung Jeong’s face was etched with pain. “I blamed myself for not stopping my brother, believing his death was my fault. And I regretted not drawing my sword against the Demon out of fear.”
The blood flowing from the dagger in Namgung Jeong’s Shenzhu acupoint grew thicker.
Yet he stood tall and said, “That’s the whole truth.”
Namgung Pung remained silent.
Elder Pung had been a kind mentor.
He was the only one who had told him the truth about his father’s death.
He had also taught him the final three forms of the Emperor’s Sword Style, a technique exclusive to the Namgung Palace Master, as well as a mysterious Severing Sword technique to counter it.
“Your master’s sword techniques must never be used within the Namgung family,” Elder Pung had warned.
It turned out Elder Pung was part of a secretive organization.
“If you join the group I serve, you’ll not only become Palace Master but gain even greater power,” he had said.
With Elder Pung’s recommendation, Namgung Pung had joined that organization.
Though he only followed Elder Pung’s orders and didn’t know the group’s structure, their influence was vast enough to dominate the martial world.
‘Even if his words are true, it doesn’t matter now,’ Namgung Pung thought, a cruel smile forming.
If he killed Namgung Jeong and Namgung Un as planned, he would soon become Palace Master. Elder Pung and his organization would handle the rest.
Even if the story about his father was a lie… it no longer mattered.
“I see,” Namgung Jeong said, nodding faintly as he read Namgung Pung’s expression.
He realized all his words had been taken as mere excuses.
“Revenge for your father was just a pretext, wasn’t it?”
“Palace Master, I could have waited,” Namgung Pung said, speaking his true feelings. “If you hadn’t favored that youngest brat, I wouldn’t have resorted to this.”
Namgung Pung knew.
The one Namgung Jeong cherished most, the one he intended to make Palace Master, was Namgung Un—the one he scolded the most and treated the strictest.
“Even if Un resolved the Beggars’ Sect issue, giving him the Boeun Coin outright? That nullifies all my contributions!”
“Cough.” As Namgung Jeong tried to speak, he coughed up a clot of blood.
His injuries had worsened, causing severe internal damage.
“I got carried away. Haha, I’ve said too much,” Namgung Pung said with a faint smile.
“Now, it’s time for you to die.”
Hum.
A powerful sword resonance emanated from the blade Namgung Pung drew.
The final three forms of the Emperor’s Sword Style.
The ultimate sword art, exclusive to the Namgung Palace Master, was about to be unleashed by Namgung Pung.
“Farewell!”
Boom.
A tremendous pressure, like hurling a mountain, gathered in his Golden Needle Sword.
Namgung Pung had already mastered the profound essence of the Emperor’s Sword Style, dominating space with concentrated force.
But then, “Don’t touch the Palace Master!” Namgung Un, who had been sitting and gasping for breath, shouted, grabbing the sword Namgung Jeong had dropped.
He stepped forward slowly.
“Fight me.”
“Hahaha,” Namgung Pung shook his head. “Namgung Un, you’ve improved a bit, but you’re still no match for me.”
Namgung Pung had long since reached the pinnacle of mastery.
Namgung Un, who had neglected his training and lived recklessly, couldn’t compare.
“Besides, you can barely muster half your strength right now.”
“Shut up, you ungrateful traitor,” Namgung Un said solemnly, holding the Golden Needle Sword at an angle. “From now on, you’re no longer my brother.”
“Hahaha!” Namgung Pung burst into laughter, his expression gleeful. “Fine. It’s more fun when there’s someone like you resisting until the end!”
He immediately unleashed the Emperor’s Sword Style.
Hum!
With a low vibration, Namgung Un’s vision darkened. The overwhelming pressure momentarily blinded him.
Clang!
But he effortlessly blocked Namgung Pung’s unseen attack.
Not only was his perception sharp, but he had observed Namgung Pung’s swordsmanship since childhood.
Even without seeing or sensing it, he could predict how Namgung Pung would wield his blade.
“Well, I did teach you a lot of swordsmanship when we were young,” Namgung Pung said, smiling as he realized Un knew his habits.
“Shall we play for old times’ sake?”
“You didn’t teach me—you sabotaged me,” Namgung Un retorted.
Namgung Pung had always feared Un’s potential.
So, under the guise of teaching, he fed him faulty sword techniques. But Namgung Un had seen through it, refusing to learn the flawed techniques and closely studying Pung’s practice instead.
“Knowing that much won’t help you!” Namgung Pung laughed, preparing to unleash the Emperor’s Sword Style again.
But each time, Namgung Un’s Golden Needle Sword preempted his moves.
Clang, clang, clang!
An endless exchange of blows ensued.
Namgung Un had always fought passively, avoiding aggressive or fierce techniques.
But now, he poured out lethal moves with full force.
This duel wasn’t just for his life but for the Palace Master’s as well.
His focus reached an unprecedented level, amplifying his swordsmanship’s power several-fold.
“You annoying insect, making a final stand!” Namgung Pung growled, trying to push back Un, who relentlessly closed the distance.
But Namgung Un, at the brink of life and death, had reached peak concentration. Knowing Pung’s habits and predicting his moves, he stubbornly held on.
‘Everything I learned came from being with Brother Bu.’
Bu Eunseol, unbound by rigid martial techniques, always sought victory in crises.
“When facing an enemy, no matter how great their skills, if you prevent them from using them, they’re useless,” Bu Eunseol had told Namgung Un during his mercenary days, teaching him the importance of preemptive strikes and seizing the initiative.
“When facing a stronger opponent, every move must start before they can attack.”
Every technique has telltale signs.
By reading an enemy’s gaze and movements, one could predict their actions.
Moreover, Namgung Un wasn’t trying to defeat Namgung Pung.
He was simply buying time until Bu Eunseol arrived. Bu Eunseol would surely sense this situation and come for him.
“Ridiculous. You think stalling will bring someone to save you?” Namgung Pung laughed, seeing through Un’s plan. “I came late to erase all traces of my arrival. Plus, I’ve stationed three hundred puppets around here.”
Namgung Pung smiled confidently.
“The Namgung estate is too busy dealing with the fires. Even if someone found this mechanism, they couldn’t break through the puppets in time.”
Namgung Pung was as cunning as he was ruthless.
He had set multiple layers of traps to ensure his plan’s success and prevent anyone from reaching them.
Yet, a faint smile lingered on Namgung Un’s lips.
It was faith.
His ability to hold on so tenaciously stemmed from his certainty that Bu Eunseol would find him.
“Namgung Pung! You’ve never trusted anyone, have you?” Namgung Un said with a mocking smile. “That’s why you’re so twisted, never listening to others.”
“Ridiculous nonsense!”
Clang!
As their swords clashed, Namgung Un was pushed back.
Already injured and far outmatched in inner energy, with Pung wielding the final three forms of the Emperor’s Sword Style, no matter how tenaciously Un held on with his Sky-Soaring Sword, he would eventually fall.
“Well, it is the Sky-Soaring Sword that Father painstakingly refined,” Namgung Pung said, noticing Un’s persistence. He began to attack Un’s psyche. “Did you think what you’re using is the real Sky-Soaring Sword?”
Pung swung his sword with a faint smile.
“What you learned was a version Father created specifically for you. The forms are the same, so you couldn’t tell the difference.”
Namgung Un’s eyes widened.
Refining a traditional sword technique with new principles is an arduous, time-consuming task. The righteous sects create separate compendiums for their sword arts because they can’t tailor them to each disciple’s individuality.
“I told you since we were kids—you never understood Father’s heart,” Namgung Pung said.
“…”
“You were the key to this trap. Because Father loves you more than anyone else.” Namgung Pung sneered. “But you never believed it, always whining that Father hated you.”
“Stop talking nonsense!” Namgung Un shouted, swinging his sword more fiercely.
But that went against the essence of the Sky-Soaring Sword. As anger consumed him, the once-steady forms of his swordsmanship grew shaky.
‘Now!’
Seizing the moment, Namgung Pung thrust his Golden Needle Sword.
Snap!
The tip of the sword broke off, flying toward Namgung Un’s throat.
This was the secret Severing Sword technique Elder Pung had taught him.
“Ugh!” Sensing the sharp sword wind, Namgung Un twisted his body.
Stab.
A shard of the blade embedded deeply in his shoulder.
“Hahaha!” Namgung Pung, not missing the chance, unleashed the Emperor’s Sword Style again.
Hum!
An immense pressure bore down on Namgung Un, threatening to burst his meridians and kill him in one strike.
Thud.
Namgung Un fell to one knee.
Caught in the perfect Emperor’s Sword Style, he couldn’t swing his sword or resist. Every space for movement was completely dominated.
Under Elder Pung’s guidance, Namgung Pung had long mastered the profound principles of the Emperor’s Sword Style.
Tremble.
Namgung Un tried to rise with his inner energy, but his body only shook like a leaf.
Step, step.
Namgung Pung approached slowly, looking down at the kneeling Un.
“Farewell.”
Stab.
But the sword Pung thrust didn’t pierce Un’s throat—it struck the shoulder of Namgung Jeong, who had stepped between them.
“Ugh.”
Namgung Jeong groaned loudly as Pung’s sword struck him.
The blade carried such sharp inner energy that even a strike to the arm could have severed his heart meridians.
“Argh!” Gritting his teeth, Namgung Jeong shattered the Golden Needle Sword embedded in his shoulder with his hand.
Clang!
At the same time, he shouted, “Cloud-Soaring Swallow!”
At his words, Namgung Un snapped to attention and thrust his sword.
It was the supreme technique of the Sky-Soaring Sword, Cloud-Soaring Swallow, striking in the moment the enemy let their guard down.
Slash!
Blood sprayed from Namgung Pung’s neck.
But unfortunately, his quick reflexes prevented Un from severing his carotid artery.
“You bastards…” Namgung Pung growled, touching the bleeding wound on his neck, his eyes blazing with fury.
Had he not instinctively dodged, that single strike would have sent him to the underworld.
“I’ll kill you for real!”
A terrifying killing intent surged from Namgung Pung’s eyes. He prepared to unleash a sword strike to behead both of them without lifting a hand.
But then, Crack. Crunch.
The stone wall behind Namgung Un suddenly collapsed.
Boom.
As the wall split apart, a figure emerged.
It was Bu Eunseol.
Seeing him, Namgung Un instinctively called out his true name, “Brother Bu!”
“You’ve done well,” Bu Eunseol said, nodding at Un.
That single look brought Un a sense of calm.
It was over now.
He could leave the rest to Bu Eunseol.
“You… you’re no ordinary mercenary,” Namgung Pung said, eyeing the shattered stone wall.
Breaking into this underground mechanism required martial prowess capable of tearing apart mountains.
“There were some strange riffraff around,” Bu Eunseol said calmly. “Dealing with them one by one would’ve taken too long, so I came this way.”
Despite Bu Eunseol’s arrival, Namgung Pung remained unfazed, a cold smile on his lips.
“You’ve got another identity, don’t you?”
“Curious?”
“Not really.” Namgung Pung’s smile turned murderous. “Just in case something like this happened, I spent years building this mechanism. I doubted any martial artist in the Namgung family could surpass me.”
Clank.
A metallic sound rang from the high ceiling.
The ceiling flipped open, revealing countless black beads clinging like dew. At the same time, a massive iron gate rose from the floor in front of Namgung Pung.
“What’s that?” Namgung Un’s eyes widened.
The beads hanging from the ceiling were Heaven-Collapsing Explosive Spheres, capable of leveling an iron house with a single blast.
In his powerless state, being caught in that explosion would reduce him to dust.
Whoosh!
Before he could think, the blackened Heaven-Collapsing Explosive Spheres rained down.
“Un!” Namgung Jeong, who had collapsed weakly, summoned all his strength to stand and shield Un with his body.
He was determined to save Un, even if it meant his own death.
Boom!
A blinding light and a deafening explosion erupted.
Roar.
The blast was so powerful that even the massive iron gate in front of Namgung Pung buckled and glowed red-hot.
Crack.
Unable to withstand the force, the gate developed a hole.
‘I finished them off properly,’ Namgung Pung thought, nodding.
This trap was designed to be unsurvivable for any flesh-and-blood human.
Whoosh.
Smoke trapped behind the gate dispersed through the hole.
Namgung Pung smiled as he watched.
If he could tie up loose ends here, Namgung Un and Namgung Jeong would be declared missing, and he would soon ascend as Palace Master.
“The Palace Master of the Namgung family—a position no less enviable than the leader of the Martial Alliance, even if it’s just in Gangnam,” he muttered softly.
As he turned to leave, Crackle.
A black lightning bolt flashed through the gray smoke, revealing an astonishing sight.
A dark sphere had formed against the inner stone wall, and inside it stood Bu Eunseol and Namgung Un, completely unharmed, not a scratch on them.
