The Sword Emperor's Way of Establishing the Namgung Clan

Chapter 1 - Prologue

The wilderness, sinking into deep twilight, was still red.

The body of Namcheon Palace Lord, Nam Yeong-shin, was tattered as he stepped onto the blood-hued earth.

His left shoulder was torn clean off, and three fist-sized holes were pierced through his chest.

His body had already reached its limit. A state where it would not be strange for his breath to cease at any moment.

Nevertheless, his will to force himself to walk was clear.

Squelch!

His blood-drenched leather shoes pressed firmly into the ground. A grim determination to see it through was visible in the distinct, bloody footprints.

“Heh.”

A sound of admiration escaped the mouth of the Sun and Moon Cult Leader, who was appreciating the sight of Nam Yeong-shin walking toward him.

“Sword Emperor……. How amusing. You managed to make it this far in the end.”

Perched on a bizarre, diagonally split rock, the Sun and Moon Cult Leader leisurely propped his chin on one raised knee.

Despite his heart having been pierced and burst, his demeanor was overflowing with leisure and amusement.

But.

Nam Yeong-shin could not be amused. Rather, anguish leaked out from the corners of his mouth.

“Amusing? Did you say amusing?”

As he retorted, Nam Yeong-shin’s gaze went past the Sun and Moon Cult Leader’s shoulder.

Between the gentle hills formed by thickly piled corpses, blood and flesh flowed like a river.

They were the disciples of Namcheon Palace who had faced the Sun and Moon Demonic Cult alongside Nam Yeong-shin.

— Palace Lord. The Sun and Moon Demonic Cult has reached Anhui Fortress. What should we do?

— A righteous warrior's sword is sharp because it must bear responsibility, and it is upright because it does not compromise. Is the sword you hold that of a righteous warrior, or that of a worthless commoner?

— There are no commoners among the disciples of Namcheon Palace. All of us will advance with you, Palace Lord.

The last conversation with his disciples rang clearly in his ears. Thanks to it, he could right his posture.

‘That’s right. That is what I taught, and you carried it out exactly.’

Strength once again entered the hand gripping his cherished sword, the Uicheon Sword.

As if his disciples who had departed before him were placing their hands upon his.

‘Now…… it is my turn.’

Nam Yeong-shin’s lips moved slowly.

Fresh blood poured from between his parted lips, yet his voice and pronunciation were distinct and resonant.

“The disciples of Namcheon Palace advanced without retreating. To fully take responsibility for the path of martial arts they have walked until this day.”

The final praise a master could give his disciples, and it was—

A vow to himself.

Squelch!

Nam Yeong-shin finally closed the distance with the Sun and Moon Cult Leader to within seven steps.

His body, broken as much as it could be, no longer had even blood to spill. Nevertheless, his steps steadfastly continued.

“To dare attach the word ‘amusing’ to those who proved their unbreakable righteousness.”

His voice was as frigid as perennial snow, but a fierce rage swirled in its depths.

As if sensing the emotion submerged in the voice, the corners of the Cult Leader’s mouth curled up wickedly.

Shing!

Nam Yeong-shin raised the Uicheon Sword.

Since the man would not die even with his heart torn to shreds, he intended to sever his head entirely.

Even as death drew near, the Cult Leader’s expression was overflowing with vitality.

“Sword Emperor. Will you be able to handle what comes next?”

Nam Yeong-shin’s lips closed shut. The firm, straight line they formed revealed his resolve.

“When a sword is held in a swordsman’s hand, what is there that cannot be handled?”

As he took his final step, Nam Yeong-shin simultaneously gathered every last shred of his remaining strength.

For the sake of a single swing.

Just as the Sun and Moon Cult Leader was forming some strange hand seal, the Uicheon Sword slashed horizontally.

Swoooosh!

A cerulean sword-strike that drew a line between the heavens and the earth.

The Cult Leader’s neck was caught perfectly on the blue horizon that stretched endlessly, horizontally.

Gush!

As a fountain of blood erupted from the Cult Leader’s neck.

[The black sun and the red moon always yearn for each other, thus the two are never parted.]

A will, resounding from the Cult Leader’s head as it spun through the air, twisted all of creation.

DUWOOOONG!

As if the sky had become a giant drum, a dark red ripple spread across the firmament, followed by a tremendous roar.

As the ripple of ominous color swept over his entire body, Nam Yeong-shin’s mind grew hazy.

“I see. So it was a mutual destruction technique.”

He did not know what kind of martial art it was, but it was surely the Cult Leader’s arrangement to sever his lifeline.

Slumping down onto the ruins, Nam Yeong-shin held on, trying his utmost not to lose consciousness as he thought of his disciples.

Despite shouldering the title of Sword Emperor, he had been unable to protect his disciples.

Of course, even if he were to return to the past, he would still make the choice to confront the Sun and Moon Demonic Cult.

Even so, the deaths of his disciples were too agonizing. When he thought of their deaths, the pain of his mangled body was nothing.

‘I am sorry. My disciples.’

It was now time to follow his disciples across the Sanzu River.*

[N: The Sanzu River, or Sanzu-no-Kawa in Japanese, is a mythological river in Japanese Buddhist tradition that is considered the boundary between the world of the living and the afterlife.]

“Is the last thing left on the blade…… regret?”

If only I had been a little stronger.

If only I had tried a little harder.

If only I had been a little more desperate.

If only I had advanced a little further.

He might have gone beyond merely stopping the Sun and Moon Demonic Cult to protecting Namcheon Palace and his disciples.

The tears spreading from Nam Yeong-shin’s eyes mixed with the bloodstains on his cheeks, becoming tears of blood.

Nam Yeong-shin suddenly looked up at the sky.

The sky, which had been invisible while covered by the Cult Leader’s demonic energy, now clearly filled his vision.

It was truly blue and lofty.

That very sky was the righteousness that Nam Yeong-shin and his disciples had sought to protect.

The faces of his departed disciples appeared faintly in the sky, but he did not dare to even think of reaching out a hand.

He did not have the right.

It was the final end of one who had protected the stability of the Jianghu, yet failed to protect his disciples and his sect.

When the tears of blood that flowed down his rough jawline stopped.

Nam Yeong-shin’s breathing, which had been in communion with heaven and earth, also came to a sudden halt.

All while holding his lifelong companion, his beloved sword, the Uicheon Sword, in his arms.

The exceptionally high sky, emitting an indigo light, descended upon him.

It was near the end of autumn.

***

“Mumyeong! Get up, you son of a bitch! You grub-like bastard!”

Along with the shout that came through his slumber, a dull pain erupted like fire in his chest.

“Ugh?”

Mumyeong let out a groan and opened his eyes.

Before him, a middle-aged man, Deok-sam, was glaring with bloodshot eyes, his fists clenched.

“A little shit who’s a Geomdong is still fucking sleeping?”

Geomdong.

‘It means ‘a child who manages swords’.’

In reality, it was closer to a porter or a servant who, besides swords, shouldered all sorts of miscellaneous luggage and ran all kinds of errands.

Thump!

Deok-sam once again raised his foot and stomped on Mumyeong’s face.

“I gave a name to an orphan bastard suffering from severed meridians, huh? If I let you earn your keep, you should be grateful. Pretending to be sick, slacking off?”

Thwack! Thwack!

He acted as if he were angry, but the corners of Deok-sam’s mouth were slightly twisted. He was smiling.

It was obvious that he was beating him just for fun, but the mind of Mumyeong, the one being beaten, was focused elsewhere.

‘What happened? I was certain that I had died.’

Namcheon Palace and the Sun and Moon Demonic Cult.

The disciples who had fallen first.

The final life-and-death duel with the Sun and Moon Cult Leader.

The memories were extremely vivid.

That was not all.

The life Nam Yeong-shin had lived seeped into his mind like a dream.

‘This is no simple dream.’

Mumyeong realized it instinctively.

That his past life was the Sword Emperor, and that he had been reborn in the body of Mumyeong.

Mumyeong suddenly recalled.

The Cult Leader's will that had enveloped him at the very end.

— The black sun and the red moon always yearn for each other, thus the two are never parted.

‘Could it be… that the final will caused some kind of defiance against heaven?’

Thwack!

Deok-sam's kick was caught by Mumyeong's hand.

“Ha! You dare grab my foot? I’ll just kill you, you bastard… Huh?”

Deok-sam put force into his foot, but Mumyeong's hand, like a steel pincer, absolutely refused to let go.

As the strength lifting his foot grew steadily more distinct, Deok-sam's eyes trembled minutely.

‘The bastard who was groaning in sickness just yesterday?’

Mumyeong swept back the bangs that covered his eyes. In his revealed pupils, the image of a single blade was formed.

“Gasp!”

Overwhelmed by the chilling gaze, Deok-sam stumbled backward without thinking and fell on his backside.

In that interval, Mumyeong slowly rose to his feet.

Though he simply stood with his back straight, an unapproachable loftiness flowed from him.

It was a presence that had been entirely absent before.

He seemed like a completely different person.

This was not the aspect of a desolate orphan, but the mien of a young nobleman experiencing the outside world for the first time.

Mumyeong angled his gaze downward.

His cold eyes moved to the worn-out sword tied at Deok-sam's waist.

“To persecute one so young and ignorant of martial arts? You are not worthy to wield a sword.”

The wandering warriors who had been quietly watching the situation finally burst out laughing.

“How much of a pushover are you for a Geomdong to get so uppity? A weakling suffering from severed meridians, no less.”

“How pathetic! Deok-sam! Why don’t you just go plow a field or something?”

At the ridicule and sarcasm from his fellow wandering warriors, Deok-sam's face flushed completely red.

“Mumyeong! Does suffering from severed meridians make everyone as crazy as you, you bastard?”

Just as the infuriated Deok-sam shot up and his hand was about to move to his waist, Mumyeong's hand shot out a breath faster.

At some point, his hand had already taken the sword hilt in a reverse grip.

With the blade pointing upward, Mumyeong swung the sword up forcefully. The act of drawing the sword flowed naturally into a slash.

Swish!

Following the harsh grating of metal from the scabbard, the sound of flesh being torn asunder erupted.

“Kkeuaaaak!”

Mumyeong, sending Deok-sam's arm flying the very instant he drew the sword.

The eyes of the wandering warriors and Geomdongs who witnessed the spectacle widened as far as they could go.

“Ugh-heok! My arm! My arm…!”

“Lift your head.”

Clutching his severed arm, Deok-sam, from whom tears and snot poured unsightly, slowly raised his head.

He had no choice.

The voice, stern and ardent like heated steel, was laden with a gravity that could make one forget even the momentary pain and loss.

The way Mumyeong lightly flicked the blood from his dripping sword was utterly natural.

His posture, letting the sword hang casually, was like that of a swordsman in peak condition.

He had clearly never learned martial arts, yet a chillingly sharp aura flowed from between his eyelids. The wretched and timid figure from before was nowhere to be found.

“Ah.”

Mumyeong had become a completely different person.

In a plea for help, Deok-sam frantically looked around, but no one stepped forward.

No, they could not step forward.

Not a single person dared to venture into Mumyeong's vicinity, as if an invisible curtain had been drawn.

As wandering warriors sensitive to death, they knew instinctively that to approach Mumyeong was to approach the line of death.

Deok-sam also felt it keenly.

That he now stood at the crossroads of life and death.

“Mumyeong, Mumyeong! I was wrong!”

With his one remaining left hand, Deok-sam hurriedly rummaged inside his robes.

A money pouch, dried jerky, small medicinal pills, and even nameless roots.

He emptied everything inside, pushed it forward, and kowtowed.

“It is not enough for how I have treated you until now… but please take these and forgive me.”

Mumyeong looked down at the crown of Deok-sam’s head, which was pressed as low as possible against the ground.

Simultaneously, the memories of Mumyeong that remained in this body surfaced.

Days where he was given proper clothing and food were rare, and whenever Deok-sam was bored or angry, he would invariably resort to violence.

Far from rewarding him for his work as a Geomdong, Deok-sam had not hesitated to extort from him, and in dangerous situations, he had intended to use him as bait or a sword shield.

Even when his body was wracked with seizures from his congenital severed meridians, far from using medicine or calling a physician, he had not hesitated to kick him.

This was Mumyeong’s last memory.

Deok-sam had always treated Mumyeong with malice.

As if handling an amusing plaything he kept in his pocket.

“I know without even seeing your face. What use is an apology without sincerity, even if it is accompanied by riches?”

The moment Deok-sam's shoulders flinched, a chillingly clean, straight line seeped into the air.

The sword strike was fully imbued with the pain Mumyeong had endured until now. For that reason, the path the sword drew was truly cold.

Spurt!

Deok-sam's head dropped off with a light thud. His headless body slowly tilted, staining the ground a dark red.

Just as he had treated Mumyeong as insignificant, Deok-sam's end was also insignificant.

“The past five years. The price for having persecuted and insulted the weak is paid with your neck.”

The gazes of the surrounding wandering warriors were fixed on Deok-sam's head as it rolled pathetically on the ground.

Mumyeong was right.

Deok-sam's final expression had been utterly servile, yet also filled with rage. Like a wolf, crouching as it looked for an opportunity.

“Those who do not take responsibility for their martial arts are not worthy of holding a sword.”

Mumyeong's murmur swept heavily across the ground.

‘That last move… I couldn't even follow it with my eyes.’

‘For Deok-sam to die so wretchedly!’

‘Since when did Mumyeong learn that kind of swordsmanship?’

Because Mumyeong was born with severed meridians, it was impossible for him to even begin learning any middling internal arts, let alone advanced martial arts.

Furthermore, he was so frail that even simple training was a struggle, to the point that he would sometimes have seizures.

In hindsight, it was a wonder he had survived this long.

‘Was there a reason he had so stubbornly clung to life until now?’

‘Heo-eo, so he was hiding his power!’

The eyes of the wandering warriors looking at Mumyeong were thick with fear, while the expressions of the other Geomdongs were blooming with reverence.

Everyone, for their own reasons, stood frozen, trembling.

It was just as Mumyeong, after sweeping his gaze over the wandering warriors and Geomdongs, was about to slowly open his mouth.

RIP!

SPLATTER!

The sound of flesh and bone being torn asunder and of something viscous pouring onto the ground came endlessly.

“Kkeuaaaak!”

“Demonic beings! It’s the demonic beings!”

“It’s the Sun and Moon Demonic Cult! Run!”

Mumyeong’s head whipped toward the direction of the sounds.

‘The Sun and Moon Demonic Cult?’

Just then, shouts filled with killing intent were heard from all sides.

“The one with severed meridians! Secure the one with severed meridians first!”

“Block off the surroundings! Seal the southeast path first!”

Hearing the voices of the demonic beings, Mumyeong’s eyes narrowed. It was an instinctive realization.

What the objective of the demonic beings was.

‘Severed meridians? Did they come looking for me?’

Mumyeong quickly scanned his surroundings. The wandering warriors and Geomdongs in front of him were being helplessly slaughtered.

‘I cannot turn a blind eye.’

Strength flowed into the hand with which Mumyeong held the sword.

The body was Mumyeong's, but the spirit was the Sword Emperor's.

While everyone else fled, only Mumyeong headed straight forward.

The courage to walk in the opposite direction of an ordinary person.

Because that was the Sword Emperor's very path of martial arts.

Thud.

Mumyeong’s footsteps echoed with a particular weight.