Bu Eunseol looked steadily at Namgung Jeong and spoke. “You’re determined to kill me.”
Namgung Jeong nodded calmly. “That boy’s talent and character are the palace’s finest. He’s only called reckless because his potential hasn’t fully bloomed.”
His eyes gleamed with solemnity. “How could I let him be entangled with the demonic path’s leader, ruining his bright future?”
Astonishingly, Namgung Jeong cherished Namgung Un and had designated him as the next Palace Master. Why, then, did Namgung Un believe his father hated him?
‘Their personalities are too different,’ Bu Eunseol thought, sighing.
Namgung Un was vibrant, openly expressing his emotions, while Namgung Jeong was reserved, never voicing his inner thoughts.
“Draw your sword,” Namgung Jeong said, standing tall and extending a hand. “I can’t cut down an unarmed man.”
Bu Eunseol wasn’t one to shy from a challenge, especially against the Southern Palace leader, head of the Eight Great Families. Surviving such a duel would yield immense insights. But he sighed and shook his head. “Let’s not.”
Namgung Jeong’s skill wasn’t something to take lightly. A full clash would leave one of them gravely injured.
“I’ll leave quietly,” Bu Eunseol said, turning with a bitter expression. He couldn’t strike his sworn brother’s father, even if it meant abandoning the Boeun Coin he desperately needed.
“And rest assured,” he said calmly, “after today, I won’t appear before Namgung Un again. I swear on my honor.”
Namgung Jeong felt an odd sensation. This demonic path heir desperately needed the coin, yet he was avoiding a fight for Namgung Un’s sake and to preserve the clan’s peace.
‘Could he truly have formed a bond of true brotherhood with Un?’ he wondered.
“Don’t you need the Boeun Coin?” Namgung Jeong asked.
“Desperately,” Bu Eunseol replied with a dry smile. “But I’d rather not drive a nail into his heart for life.”
He shook his head. “Open the mechanism. If I break it, your sect’s masters will swarm.”
Namgung Jeong was speechless. Bu Eunseol was acting entirely for Namgung Un’s sake, without deceit. “Do demonic path members know honor?” he asked.
“Do you think we’re three-headed, six-armed monsters?” Bu Eunseol retorted.
“Doesn’t the demonic path harbor villains like the Seven-Finger Demon Blade?” Namgung Jeong said, his voice laced with bitter resentment. “That’s why I can’t let you live!”
Clang!
He drew his Golden Needle Sword.
But something felt off. His senses and reflexes were several times slower than usual. “What’s this?”
“I considered killing you by surprise,” Bu Eunseol said, cold air swirling in his left hand—the Heavenly Glacial Secret. He had cooled the armory’s interior to dull Namgung Jeong’s senses and reflexes. With Namgung Jeong’s inner energy immune to cold, he’d only feel a slight chill, unaware of the subtle sabotage.
A surprise attack in this state would likely defeat Namgung Jeong the moment their swords clashed.
Crack. Crunch.
Cracks formed in the iron walls of the hall’s mechanism.
Boom!
The iron barrier shattered, and a bloodied figure stumbled in—Namgung Un, followed by Mok Hanjeong, Namgung Jeong’s trusted sword captain, who rushed in after him. Namgung Un had fought a desperate battle to break free from Mok Hanjeong and smash the hall’s mechanism.
“Palace Master! If you touch Brother Bu…” Namgung Un began.
Bu Eunseol flicked his finger, sending a gentle breeze that lightly tapped Namgung Un’s chest acupoint.
“Brother Bu, why…” Namgung Un stammered.
“Nothing happened. Don’t get worked up—rest,” Bu Eunseol said, supporting him and turning to Mok Hanjeong. “His injuries are severe. Take him.”
Mok Hanjeong blinked, taking Namgung Un. Namgung Jeong nodded. “Do as he says.”
Mok Hanjeong bowed and quickly left the hall.
“Hm,” Namgung Jeong murmured at the unexpected turn.
If Bu Eunseol wanted to cause trouble, he could’ve let Namgung Un wreak havoc. Instead, he tapped his acupoint out of concern for his injuries and sent him away—an act of genuine care.
“I acknowledge you’re a man of honor,” Namgung Jeong said, gripping his Golden Needle Sword, fire in his eyes. “But as the demonic path’s heir, I can’t let you leave unscathed.”
“Forgive me!” he shouted, thrusting his sword.
Boom!
Bu Eunseol felt as if the world darkened, as though he were floating in the cosmos, with an immense force crushing him—the Emperor Sword Form, the pinnacle of heavy sword techniques.
***
Namgung Un, awakening from deep sleep, felt excruciating pain in his spine and slowly opened his eyes. “Ugh.”
He groaned, sitting up. As he left the Spiral Immortal Hall, Mok Hanjeong had tried to restrain him. Realizing the Palace Master summoned Bu Eunseol to kill him quietly, Namgung Un’s vision turned red. Barely shaking off Mok Hanjeong, he shattered the hall’s mechanism with the Emperor Sword Form, pouring all his energy into it, even using his divine essence.
Mok Hanjeong, startled, struck his shoulder. When Namgung Un didn’t stop, he aimed a heavy palm at a vital acupoint. Yet, strangely, the deep shoulder wound and internal injuries had vanished.
“Brother Bu…” Namgung Un realized, looking around. Bu Eunseol had tapped his acupoint.
“Given his nature, he must’ve clashed heavily with the Palace Master!” Namgung Un sprang up. The palace would either be celebrating or mourning, as a duel between two peerless swordsmen would leave one gravely injured.
“Brother Bu… Palace Master!” he shouted, crashing through the pavilion’s door.
“…”
Two figures drinking tea at a gazebo in front of the pavilion stared at him—Bu Eunseol, disguised as Seolso, and Namgung Jeong.
“Brother Bu! Palace Master!” Namgung Un’s eyes widened. Moments ago, they were locked in a tense standoff. How were they calmly drinking tea together?
“You’re awake,” Bu Eunseol said with a faint smile.
“What’s going on?” Namgung Un asked, blinking.
“I came to check on you with the Palace Master and stayed for tea,” Bu Eunseol explained.
“I mean…” Namgung Un looked at Namgung Jeong. His stern, cold gaze remained, but there was a hint of warmth.
“You reckless fool,” Namgung Jeong said. “If you’re healed, open the door properly. Why break it?”
“Palace Master,” Bu Eunseol interjected, frowning. “Have you forgotten our agreement?”
“Hm? Ahem,” Namgung Jeong said, softening his gaze and turning to Namgung Un. “Un-ah, how’s your condition?”
“What?” Namgung Un blinked.
“Are your injuries alright?” Namgung Jeong clarified.
Namgung Un doubted his ears. ‘Un-ah?’ His father had only ever called him “useless” or “wastrel.” Now, he used his name?
“Palace Master, are you alright? Are you ill?” Namgung Un approached, waving a hand in front of Namgung Jeong’s face. Normally, such an act would earn a swift slap, but Namgung Jeong, bound by his agreement with Bu Eunseol, restrained his anger.
“Something’s off,” Namgung Un said, eyeing Namgung Jeong as if he were a cursed doll. Why was he just staring?
“Disguise?” Namgung Un tilted his head, grabbing Namgung Jeong’s lips and pulling them. “Not a disguise.”
“You wastrel!” Namgung Jeong roared, standing as Namgung Un’s antics pushed him too far. “That’s why you’re called the palace disgrace!”
“Palace Master,” Bu Eunseol interjected again.
Namgung Jeong trembled, his face reddening, then turned and left the gazebo, leaving behind an unbelievable warmth: “Take care of yourself.”
“Brother Bu,” Namgung Un said, approaching with a ghostly expression. “Am I still dreaming?”
“What do you mean?”
“The Palace Master… he’s acting strange.”
“Hm,” Bu Eunseol said, sipping tea with a subtle smile, gazing at the distant sky. “What kind of man is the Palace Master you know?”
“Well…” Namgung Un whispered, tilting his head. “He’s desperate to tear me apart, always comparing me to my brothers and berating me…”
He trailed off, lowering his head. “He hates me deeply.”
“You’re completely wrong,” Bu Eunseol said calmly, sighing. “The Palace Master loves you more than anything.”
“What are you talking about?” Namgung Un asked.
“He loves and cherishes you so much that he’s strict and cold, hoping to awaken your talent quickly and mold your free spirit into a Palace Master’s dignity.”
“Hahaha,” Namgung Un laughed hollowly. “Brother Bu, that’s a terrible joke.”
“Is it?”
“Of course,” Namgung Un said, biting his lip. “He beat me harshly and locked me in a shed for breaking a cherished vase as a child. As an adult, he starved me for three days for stealing plum wine from the cellar.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, he shouted, “You’re saying that man loves me more than anything? Does that make sense?”
Silence fell. Realizing his outburst, Namgung Un touched his forehead. “Sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you.”
“It’s fine,” Bu Eunseol said.
“Brother Bu, I don’t know what’s gotten into him, but he’s not the man you think.”
“Hm,” Bu Eunseol said, crossing his arms. The deep rift between father and son, long entrenched, showed no signs of healing soon.
‘It’ll take time,’ he thought. Forcing reconciliation could worsen their relationship.
“But what happened?” Namgung Un asked, puzzled. “The Palace Master knows your identity, yet he’s treating you so cordially. What’s going on?”
“Hm,” Bu Eunseol murmured, recalling the events.
***
“I can’t let the demonic path’s heir leave unscathed!” Namgung Jeong roared, raising his Golden Needle Sword.
Bu Eunseol felt as if he were floating in the cosmos, crushed by immense pressure—the Emperor Sword Form, the zenith of heavy sword techniques.
What was a heavy sword? It sealed the enemy’s movements with overwhelming pressure or shattered all obstacles with destructive force. Facing Namgung Jeong’s Emperor Sword Form, Bu Eunseol realized something: the pinnacle of heavy swordsmanship wasn’t just exerting pressure but filling empty space with it, trapping the enemy.
‘I can’t move,’ Bu Eunseol thought as the surrounding space filled with pressure, immobilizing him. The Golden Needle Sword pierced toward his brow.
‘An ordinary master would fall to this,’ he thought.
Buzz!
Unable to move a finger, a faint light rose from Bu Eunseol’s body. He unleashed the Wishful True Binding, shaping raw inner energy into a sword.
Clang!
The swords clashed, ringing metallically. A circular shockwave spread around Namgung Jeong. As Bu Eunseol blocked with the Wishful True Binding, Namgung Jeong redirected the heavy sword’s pressure to crush him.
Clang!
But Bu Eunseol already held his dark sword, splitting the heavy sword’s force into thin strands, using the Shifting Heaven’s Force to disperse the Emperor Sword Form’s pressure like splitting bamboo.
“You’ve stolen righteous sword techniques,” Namgung Jeong scoffed, recognizing Bu Eunseol’s technique as the Sword Venerable’s move. “Typical of Nangyang Pavilion.”
Sneering, he unleashed more pressure.
Slash!
Bu Eunseol relentlessly split the Emperor Sword Form’s force, piercing a gap to aim at Namgung Jeong’s throat.
‘He’s adept in countless sword techniques,’ Namgung Jeong thought. The Shifting Heaven’s Force required understanding the enemy’s force, an advanced martial concept. Yet Bu Eunseol, mid-battle, grasped the essence of the Emperor Sword Form—Sword Within Deep Majesty.
‘If I keep using the Emperor Sword Form, I’m teaching him its subtleties,’ Namgung Jeong realized. Bu Eunseol’s insight surpassed imagination, instantly comprehending his sword principles.
“Fine!” Namgung Jeong, a lifelong swordsman, wasn’t fazed by Bu Eunseol’s superior skill. He spun his Golden Needle Sword, unleashing thirteen sharp sword energies like swallows—the Yang Flake Cloud Thunder Sword, another Southern Palace technique.
Swish!
Fine sword energies swirled around Bu Eunseol, targeting vital points, resembling a blend of mountain and whirlwind sword techniques.
‘Unique,’ Bu Eunseol thought. The Southern Palace’s swordsmanship, distinct from the Nine Great Sects, was original.
Clang!
Bu Eunseol swung his dark sword, dispelling the Cloud Thunder Sword’s strikes. But as the exchange continued, Namgung Jeong sensed something odd. Bu Eunseol’s swordsmanship was exceptional, his inner energy surpassing Namgung Jeong’s sixty-year cultivation, yet he used the Shifting Heaven’s Force sparingly, focusing solely on defense.
‘He’s hiding his intentions,’ Namgung Jeong thought, scoffing. He assumed Bu Eunseol was feigning righteousness. ‘I won’t hold back!’
Roaring inwardly, he unleashed the Cloud Thunder Sword again.
Clang!
Their swords clashed, ringing clearly. Bu Eunseol executed two sword forms: the first, elegant like a phoenix soaring; the second, elusive and unpredictable.
‘What swordsmanship is this?’ Namgung Jeong, unable to counter instantly, followed Bu Eunseol’s sword path to block.
Clang!
Sparks flew as their swords clashed again. A realization struck Namgung Jeong. ‘So that’s it.’
A calligrapher’s skill is revealed in a single stroke, a scholar’s learning in a single poem, and a swordsman’s spirit in their swordsmanship. Bu Eunseol’s techniques, powerful yet subtle, could only be wielded by one with a pure and upright spirit.
‘I’m ashamed,’ Namgung Jeong thought, biting his lip. ‘A Palace Master immersed in swordsmanship failed to grasp this young man’s sword intent.’
Bu Eunseol wasn’t fighting to defeat him but to reveal his upright heart through clear, noble sword forms.
Clang!
As their swords clashed again, Namgung Jeong stepped back. Astonishingly, Bu Eunseol’s inner energy surpassed his own. Realizing Bu Eunseol’s sword intent, he felt disoriented.
‘Ugh.’
His focus wavered, weakening his swordsmanship.
Clank.
Namgung Jeong lowered his Golden Needle Sword, sighing deeply. “I’m ashamed. A Palace Master immersed in swordsmanship took too long to understand your sword intent.”
Click.
Sheathing his sword, he said bitterly, “I acknowledge you’re untainted by evil.”
In a low voice, he added, “But our clan walks the path of righteousness for generations. We cannot associate with demonic path figures. Leave quietly.”
“Is that all?” Bu Eunseol asked.
“What?”
“Is that all you felt from my sword?”
Namgung Jeong frowned deeply. “What are you saying?”
“What sword techniques did I use?”
Namgung Jeong’s eyes widened as he reflected. Bu Eunseol had only used defensive forms with the Shifting Heaven’s Force, adapting the Sky-Soaring Sword technique taught to Namgung Un.
Bu Eunseol said solemnly, “As a master of swordsmanship, you must have grasped the intent in my techniques.”
Namgung Jeong trembled, finally understanding the true sword intent Bu Eunseol had woven into his forms.
