31

“…!”

Namgung Pa was greatly shocked.

It was the first time in his life that he had seen his father, Namgung Cheon of all people, utter words of weakness.

Was not Namgung Cheon, true to his name, the very sky of the righteous martial world, the supreme sovereign beneath heaven?

A man endlessly strong, endlessly arrogant. The Sword King, Namgung Cheon.

Before being his father, he had been someone Namgung Pa respected and revered as a fellow martial artist. Never had he imagined such words would come from that man’s mouth.

It seemed the spectators felt the same, as none of them could close their gaping mouths.

But Namgung Cheon went even further.

“If that brat had been using a spear instead of a staff, I would have died.”

“…!”

“That Mukjukgon (Black Bamboo Staff) he carried around—he must have killed the former owner and taken it. That fellow likely died by the spear as well. Hm—”

Namgung Cheon stroked his beard and clicked his tongue.

“Anyway. Drawing my sword in the final exchange was not a mistake. What choice does one have if one wishes to live? Life is more precious than pride, is it not?”

“…I—I cannot believe it. Not at all.”

“Nor can I. To be honest, I still can’t quite believe it. If possible, I would like to try blocking his final attack with my bare hands once more… but he ran off before I could even bring it up. Now there’s nothing more to be done. Tch—talking about yielding and such for no reason!”

Namgung Cheon grumbled as though wronged.

Seeing this side of his father for the first time, Namgung Pa found the entire situation unfamiliar from the very beginning.

Meanwhile, Namgung Cheon, who had been acting as if no one else existed around him, finally lifted his head and looked at the crowd.

“Hohoho. What a day of complete humiliation. Speaking two, even three different things with one mouth. Getting beaten repeatedly by a youngster. This old man of Namgung feels utterly ashamed to face the heroes of Anhui. I have no face to show.”

At that, the crowd gathered around him startled and hurriedly lowered their heads.

To say one was ashamed to meet their gaze was a polite dismissal.

After all, the grand banquet had already been reduced to ruins, and the Saphyeolmaengse (Blood Oath by Cutting the Palm) was rendered void. There was no reason left for the gathered heroes to remain.

Namgung Pa clasped his fist toward the crowd.

“The Namgung family will settle all matters here. Today’s incident will certainly be compensated by our house. Though it pains me to say so, I ask for the understanding of all the heroes gathered here.”

The feast was over.

Who would dare object?

No one had either the nerve or the reason.

From the collapsed walls and the devastated estate, people began to leave.

Like a flock of ducks returning home, the crowd scattered and made their way back to where they had come from.

Beyond the servants bustling about to clean up, the dawn sun was already rising.

Father and son returned to the family estate.

Namgung Cheon kept rubbing his wrist and forearm.

Whenever someone offered to massage it for him, he snapped irritably, so no one dared approach.

Beside him, Namgung Pa muttered continuously.

“Samchinghwangcheon… I have never seen such a strange master. No sect, no affiliation, no age, not even his face revealed… who could he possibly be?”

At those words, Namgung Cheon nodded as well.

“His fighting style—like a street ruffian. His spear technique—third rate. His martial arts—at the peak realm. His movement technique—beyond the peak realm. His scheming—at the Hwagyung (Transformation Realm). A fellow utterly impossible to discern.”

“To have let such a person live… we are utterly ruined. The Namgung family’s prestige has fallen to the ground.”

“Honestly, you’re pleased, aren’t you?”

“…Pardon? Why would I be pleased?”

“Didn’t Paengsaeng get his head smashed and die? Every time there was a meeting, he would act as the representative of the Council of Elders and constantly trip up the path of the family head. How much of a thorn in your eye must he have been all this time? Since he was an old retainer who served your father, you couldn’t touch him either.”

“Father! What are you saying…!”

“Always interpret situations in your favor. Since Paengsaeng is dead, all the black money he stashed away will now belong to you. The funds directly under the family head will grow far more abundant—how could that not be good?”

“….”

Namgung Pa fell silent.

With an expressionless face, Namgung Cheon continued.

“There is a tale of Cao Cao executing Wang Hou, the officer in charge of provisions. Do you know why?”

“You are referring to Romance of the Three Kingdoms. The army was short on supplies, so the rations given to soldiers were reduced. When the soldiers raised complaints, Cao Cao framed and executed the officer in charge of provisions. By executing the man for embezzling rations, he quelled unrest and restored morale… Ah!”

As he answered his father’s question, Namgung Pa nodded.

Namgung Cheon spoke.

“It is true that Paengsaeng committed wrongdoing such as embezzlement and taking bribes. Conduct a thorough investigation and compensate all resulting damages. Take this opportunity to cover every mistake our house handled poorly by placing the blame upon Paengsaeng. Then the Namgung family’s standing will rise even higher than before today’s loss of face.”

Just as Cao Cao used Wang Hou as a scapegoat to further solidify his position, Namgung Pa could do the same with Namgung Paengsaeng.

Cutting off the tail.

Interpret what has already happened in the most advantageous way possible, and if there is a crisis, turn it into an opportunity.

It was truly the solution of a seasoned veteran of the martial world.

Seeing his son’s admiration, Namgung Cheon laughed heartily.

“In this Saphyeolmaengse (Blood Oath by Cutting the Palm), the true sacrificial beast was Paengsaeng.”

Namgung Paengsaeng, who had captured a wolf to be used as a sacrifice, ultimately became the sacrifice himself.

It sounded contradictory, yet was that not life itself?

Then—

As Namgung Pa pondered the future, Namgung Cheon asked,

“By the way. Is Yul all right?”

“Yes. Thanks to you expelling the poison, she is fine. She has likely regained consciousness by now.”

Suddenly, Namgung Pa recalled the wolf-masked assailant kissing Namgung Yul and veins bulged on his forehead.

Regardless, Namgung Cheon scraped at his son’s insides once more.

“I see. That child is nearing marriageable age, is she not?”

“…?”

Why was this topic being brought up now?

As Namgung Pa looked puzzled, Namgung Cheon said with a grin,

“Have Yul capture that fellow called Samchinghwangcheon and bring him back alive.”

“What? That’s impossible. No matter how talented Yul is, she is still a child not yet twenty.”

“That fellow looked even younger.”

“….”

Namgung Pa opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.

Judging by the structure of his bones, Samchinghwangcheon did indeed seem to be hiding a youthful face beneath the wolf mask.

Namgung Cheon spoke casually.

“I will assign as many men as necessary. Tell her to capture him with her own hands.”

“Father. Forgive my impertinence, but… why must Yul do such a thing?”

“Why else! How can a marriageable girl embrace the naked body of an unrelated man before even being wed! That brat’s prospects are already ruined, so she might as well take responsibility!”

“Father! What era do you think this is…!”

As Namgung Pa exclaimed in disbelief, Namgung Cheon clicked his tongue.

“Isn’t Tengcheon Academy on break right now? She can spend the time hunting down her future husband. Make sure she brings him back alive. I’ll assign several members of the special operations unit—if more are needed, just say so.”

“Father! I would rather go myself than send Yul! And what do you mean, future husband! I have repeatedly said I will personally arrange her marriage…!”

Namgung Pa’s protest grew fierce.

This was one matter he refused to yield on.

But Namgung Cheon merely clicked his tongue again.

“Do you know the meaning of Gyojugoseul (Gluing the Pillar and Beating the Zither)?”

“…It refers to gluing the strings of a zither in place.”

“Correct. The strings of a zither produce different tones depending on how they are tuned. But if you happen to find a pleasing tone once and glue the strings in place, what happens? It becomes useless in other environments. A person must always remain open to change.”

Stroking his chin, Namgung Cheon continued.

“In my youth, I once encountered a primitive tribe in the southern wilderness.”

“You have mentioned it before.”

“That tribe had a peculiar custom. Whenever they welcomed an outsider, they would have the host’s daughter sleep with the guest.”

“That is the first I have heard of it. It sounds rather barbaric. What do they take their daughters for…”

“It originated from a warning against weakening through repeated inbreeding. By mixing in blood from outside, they sought to avoid genetic diseases caused by incest. It is not barbaric. Merely their own way of responding to an ever-changing environment.”

Only then did Namgung Pa understand his father’s meaning.

Yet he still could not agree.

“Is that not the story of savages? Thinking that merely mixing blood is sufficient is far too simplistic.”

“Sometimes the simplest thing is closest to the answer. Our spirit is Namgung. Namgung is the surname passed down through blood. Spirit is blood, and blood is spirit.”

The usually gentle face of Namgung Cheon had hardened.

Intimidated by that expression, Namgung Pa quietly listened.

“When those with similar mindsets are bound together for too long, a spiritual genetic disease forms. That is why I do not favor a grandson-in-law from the righteous faction. They are too much like us.”

“Then would a son-in-law from the unorthodox or demonic factions also be acceptable?”

“Precisely. My point is not to limit companionship and learning strictly within the righteous faction. If young blood from outside seems useful, we must be willing to transfuse it in. Only then can we survive the raging waves of the ever-changing martial world.”

“Are you not being too impatient? The Namgung family is a great tree. It will not fall from a few ripples. I do not believe it is yet time to pursue such extreme changes.”

“Do you think so?”

“…?”

At his father’s question, Namgung Pa tilted his head.

Namgung Cheon let out a small sigh.

“The martial world is like the sea. When calm, it is calm beyond measure—perfect for casting a fishing line and sharing a drink. But once a storm rises, heaven and sea mingle in terrifying upheaval.”

At last, Namgung Cheon’s gaze fixed upon his son.

“I have heard that the movements in Xinjiang lately are unusual.”

“…!”

Xinjiang. A treacherous land lined with countless peaks of the Tianshan Mountains.

There exists the Magyo (Demonic Cult).

Namgung Cheon spoke in a low voice.

“Prepare for change. If there is vigorous young blood, bring it in without hesitation. A great wave will soon rise, and if there is any method to overcome it, we must employ it.”

“….”

Namgung Pa quietly bowed his head.

Before a father who uttered the words Magyo, no one in this world could object—and no one should.

It was a warning of great upheaval from an ancient tree that had lived through the Nine Mountains and Eight Seas of blood and corpses, through the era of old martial chivalry.

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