Chapter v13v10

**A Story They Didn’t Want to Hear**

“The owners of these swords gathered here to resist a single man. A single man! And only then did we realize that we had underestimated him. He was darkness itself, the embodiment of fear and despair. It was a realization that came too late.”

Another story was about to begin. A story about “him.” They were tired of it. They were afraid. They wanted to shout, “Stop! Please, no more!”

When Seop Un-myeong, the Sword Maniac, began his tale, just like Sky-Soaring Cloud-Treader Jong Kwae and the Saber Emperor, Yong Gyeong-ui, the Cheonmu Academy delegation wanted to cover their ears. They didn’t want to hear it. The more they heard, the more despair they felt. They wanted to refuse the continuation of this story.

They had a bad feeling that they would lose all their confidence if they continued to listen.

They finally understood the true meaning of Jong Kwae’s warning.

‘If you’re not careful, you could be consumed by the remaining traces!’

Perhaps because they had ignored his warning, their hearts were slowly being consumed by fear.

They had always been praised, admired, and envied, but this was the first time they felt so insignificant. But reality forced them to face this wall. If they couldn’t overcome it, they would only be left with despair. But even their youthful flexibility had its limits.

They silently prayed for him to stop, but Seop Un-myeong had no intention of stopping, and they had no right to stop him. So, they could only listen helplessly as the story continued.

“You have to understand how shocked we were when he appeared here. We just stared at him blankly, as if he were a mirage or a ghost.”

He didn’t seem human.

“As you know, we were in charge of the third trial of the Three Gates of Tribulation Extinction. The third and final trial. But we didn’t hear a single sound until he arrived!”

Some of them looked confused, but most of them gasped in astonishment.

“Ah!”

Yoon Jun-ho was no exception.

Seop Un-myeong glanced at him and continued,

“The first and second trials aren’t that close to here, but they’re not so far that sound can’t travel!”

Most of them finally understood.

“We were expecting a fierce battle. We should have heard something, a loud sound. The clash of weapons, screams of agony, anything. But there was nothing, as if the entire mountain was shrouded in silence. It wasn’t that our ears were deaf.”

A brief silence.

“It was as if he had sprung from the earth! His mere appearance unsettled us, giving him an advantage.”

Seop Un-myeong, his face dark with memories, looked around before continuing,

“We called our sword formation the One Hundred and Eight Tribulation Extinction Sword Formation. It was a deadly formation, based on a variation of the Shaolin Temple’s One Hundred and Eight Arhat Formation, incorporating elements from the Mount Hua Sect’s Plum Blossom Sword Formation, the Wudang Sect’s Big Dipper Formation, and the Blood Sword Sect’s Blood Chain Sword Formation. No other sword formation in the world could surpass its complexity.”

It was a formation created by dozens of renowned swordsmen and brilliant minds, who had spent hundreds of days working tirelessly, forgetting even to eat or sleep. They were proud of their creation.

“All the famous swordsmen of the time were gathered there. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that every sword master in the land was present. It’s easier to understand that way. If they were to disappear, the lineage of sword masters would be broken!”

So, they had to prepare for that possibility.

“The owner of the Green Jade Tathagata Divine Sword you’re carrying was also there. Do you know Master Gonghu?”

Seop Un-myeong pointed to one of the two swords hanging from Yong Cheon-myeong’s waist.

“H-He was my grandmaster, my master’s master. I only heard that he passed away during the Heavenly Tribulation Blood God incident. I only know that he was one of the greatest monks in the history of the Shaolin Temple…”

“His greatest skill was actually the sword. He was there too, guarding the right flank of the formation with me. He was a great man, always willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of the people… But even the Tathagata’s sword light couldn’t stop him.”

Yong Cheon-myeong shuddered.

He had never heard this story before! But none of the elders in his sect had ever spoken of it. Even though it was something to be proud of, not ashamed of…

‘Could it be that they didn’t want to tarnish the undefeated legend of the Dharma Tathagata Sword?’

The elders probably didn’t want to see the last hope of the Shaolin Temple extinguished.

Seop Un-myeong continued, ignoring Yong Cheon-myeong, who was still reeling from the shock.

“He wasn’t the only one. There was also Gwak Yeol, the Mount Hua’s Sole Sword, the senior brother of Yu Hwan-gwon, the current Plum Blossom Sword Saint, who was known as the best swordsman of Mount Hua at the time. He was a close friend of mine… What a waste of talent. I lost so many friends that day, friends I used to drink and discuss the sword with…”

Jo Cheon-u, Hwa Seol-ok, and Yoon Jun-ho, the Mount Hua disciples, gasped in shock. Yu Hwan-gwon’s senior brother was a figure so distant, so revered, that they couldn’t even fathom his greatness.

Seop Un-myeong didn’t stop there.

“Chu Seong, the Beggar Sword of the Beggars’ Sect, was also there.”

“What? A swordsman from the Beggars’ Sect…?”

Noh Hak’s eyes widened.

As far as he knew, the Beggars’ Sect didn’t have any sword techniques. Their ultimate martial art was the Thirty-Six Styles of the Beggar’s Staff, a technique that had been passed down for generations.

“You didn’t know? You haven’t heard of the legendary Beggar Sword?”

“I-I’m sorry.”

Noh Hak couldn’t lie.

“Sigh, the dead are quickly forgotten.”

The old man sighed deeply.

“Chu Seong was a unique beggar. He was a beggar, but he was fascinated by swords. So, he spent his entire life trying to adapt the Beggar’s Staff techniques into swordsmanship. And after decades of research, his efforts finally bore fruit. He studied all the various sword techniques of the Beggars’ Sect and most of the famous sword techniques of the martial world, and then he created… It’s strange. There should be a thirty-six-style sword technique left behind by Chu Seong in the Beggars’ Sect. It’s called the ‘Thirty-Six Styles of the Severed Sword’!”

It was news to everyone, including Noh Hak, a promising beggar. Well, there was something similar, but he had thought it was just a tall tale told by the older beggars…

“Could it be the legendary Beggar King’s Sword…?”

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

‘The Beggar King was hiding such a valuable technique? I have to ask him about it later.’

Noh Hak made a resolution. And this resolution would become a turning point in the life of a beggar who would later be known as the Beggar King.

Seop Un-myeong turned to Namgung Sang and said,

“Do you know the saying ‘a mantis trying to stop a chariot’?”

Namgung Sang quickly nodded. He glanced at Bi Ryu-yeon. He not only knew the meaning of the saying, but he had even put it into practice with a few of his friends.

“It means a mantis trying to stop a moving chariot. It’s used to describe someone who attempts the impossible, something beyond their capabilities.”

And the consequences were often bitter.

“That’s what we were.”

‘He’ didn’t bother with threats or intimidation. He didn’t need to. His mere presence was enough to instill fear in their hearts. No one could face him, no one could resist. They were as helpless as infants.

Seop Un-myeong’s voice trembled as he described the situation.

“This might be interesting!”

‘He’ said, standing before the one hundred and eight sword masters, a formidable sword formation.

They were less than half the number of swordsmen who had formed the Wolf Fang Tiger Slaying Formation at the second trial, but their energy and aura were far greater. But to “him,” it was nothing more than a source of amusement.

‘This overwhelming aura! It’s even greater than the rumors!’

Seop Un-myeong could sense it immediately. He wanted to strangle the people who had downplayed the rumors.

He couldn’t believe it. It was as if the world was filled with lies.

How could he have passed through the two trials, meticulously designed by dozens of strategists, so easily?

‘If we let him go today, the fate of the martial world is sealed!’

The iron chest, secured with eighteen locks! If it fell into his hands… Seop Un-myeong’s mind screamed in terror. He had to stop him at all costs.

He shouted,

“One hundred and eight swords! One hundred and eight heroes! We will never retreat! Today, we will perish with him! Your courage, your pride, your blood, and your lives will protect the fate of the martial world!”

“Waaaaaaaah!”

A roar of defiance erupted from them.

No one expected to survive.

There’s nothing more terrifying than a man who has embraced death.

But the world was cruel. There were forces beyond their control.

Draw your swords!

Activate the formation!

Engage!

One hundred and eight gleaming blades flashed in the sunlight, their light blinding. The One Hundred and Eight Tribulation Extinction Sword Formation was activated.

The formation, based on the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams, moved swiftly, its steel teeth bared, trying to trap the ferocious beast. But the beast’s ferocity and cunning were beyond human comprehension.

“Come!”

The beast raised its claws, ready to strike.

“He didn’t just stand there and watch us form our encirclement. He reached out, and darkness erupted from his fingertips. And a gale wind swept through the land.”

A storm of madness, like a black sun. The sky darkened, and the earth screamed. Pebbles and dust flew through the air, blinding them. It was a death wind, a harbinger of despair.

“It was as if invisible claws were tearing through space. It was as fierce as a crazed wind god, wielding a blade of wind! Blood splattered, flesh was torn, and countless lives were lost…”

The wind, with its wings of blades, swept across the land.

Blood, screams, and death!

“…It was as if all creation was weeping, drenched in blood…”

They were cut down, one after another.

Death followed in the wake of the dark whirlwind. The invisible blades, flashing in the darkness, spared no one. The black gale wind carried a sharper edge than any sword. It knew no mercy, no compassion, only death and ruthlessness.

Countless swords, their power extinguished, snapped in half, falling to the ground with their owners, becoming tombstones. And a rain of blood poured down upon them. The earth greedily drank their blood, their defiant blood.

“All the swords embedded here belonged to those who fell that day. They’re all ownerless now, their lives extinguished. And a graveyard, with swords as tombstones, was born.”

A broken sword can’t be reforged. Its life is over, and it’s no longer useful in battle.

“And… I, alone, survived that nightmare. Or rather, he spared me! As a messenger to spread the word of his victory.”

He still couldn’t forget the humiliation, the shame.

“Look!”

Seop Un-myeong ripped open his tattered robe.

“…!”

Bi Ryu-yeon’s eyes widened. So did Na Yerin’s, Jang Hong’s, Yi Jin-seol’s, and Dokgo Ryeong’s. Everyone’s eyes twitched.

The entire Cheonmu Academy delegation, including Yeomdo and Binggeom, stared in shock.

His body was emaciated, like a withered tree in a drought-stricken land. But that wasn’t the important part.

They had seen the same marks before. The scars that covered Seop Un-myeong’s face were gruesome, but they were nothing compared to the wounds on his body.

His upper body was covered in a network of scars, like spiderwebs. They were the same marks they had seen on the Scarred Wall of Tribulation.

And they were the mark of a loser, a mark that would never fade.

“This… This can’t be!”

Binggeom and Yeomdo exclaimed in unison. They had seen those scars before, in a nightmare from their past. How could they forget? It was the most painful, the most sorrowful moment of their lives.

They looked at each other and reached a silent agreement.

“T-These scars…”

Their voices trembled. They could barely speak.

There was no mistaking it.

If their memories were correct, the scars were identical. A hundred years and twenty years.

“C-Could it be that ‘he’ is still alive?”

A wave of anxiety washed over them.

But there was something strange. If “he” was still alive, their master, who had been lucid for a while, would have warned them.

‘Was it to prevent our reckless revenge? Or…’

They couldn’t find an answer. The mystery remained. But there was nothing they could do. It was a question that couldn’t be answered overnight.

“Hmm…”

Bi Ryu-yeon remained silent, observing intently. His eyes were as deep as the abyss, his thoughts unreadable, even to Na Yerin.

The scattered pieces swirled in his mind, forming and reforming, but they hadn’t formed a complete picture yet.

“Then that arm… was it him…?”

Binggeom pointed to Seop Un-myeong’s empty sleeve. But the answer was unexpected.

“No! It wasn’t him.”

The old man shook his head.

“Then…?”

Who else could have taken Seop Un-myeong’s sword-wielding right hand?

“It was me!”

“What?”

Seop Un-myeong repeated his answer, seeing their confused expressions.

“It was me! The culprit is Seop Un-myeong!”

“Such a heinous…”

“…act…”

They were about to express their outrage, but they quickly shut their mouths.

“I cut off my own right hand. And most of the scars on my face are self-inflicted. It was an act of desperation, born from despair at my own inadequacy. They’re the marks of madness, marks that can’t be erased.”

They say that Seop Un-myeong had lost his mind after his defeat against “him.” He had lost all his friends, his respected seniors, with whom he used to drink and discuss the sword under the moon. There was no one left to talk to about the sword. It was heartbreaking. And he hated himself for not being able to protect them, to die with them.

His right hand trembled uncontrollably. He couldn’t even hold a bottle of wine, let alone a sword. He knew that his right hand would never wield a sword again. And he knew that he would never surpass “him.” He was already a defeated man.

He was frustrated. It was unbearable.

A burning hatred, an uncontrollable urge to destroy everything.

At that moment, all his hatred, all his resentment, focused on his right arm.

Useless!

He grabbed his sword with his left hand and severed his right hand with a single stroke. A sickening thud echoed through the air, followed by a roar of pain, like the cry of a wounded beast. He wandered in darkness for a long time. If it hadn’t been for Hyeok Wol-rin, the Martial God, he might never have escaped that darkness.

“You couldn’t control yourself. You deserved to lose! Self-harm… What a foolish act!”

Bi Ryu-yeon’s words, sharp and merciless, cut through the air. The atmosphere instantly turned cold. He looked around. Everyone was pale, their mouths opening and closing like fish in a pond, speechless.

“R-Ryu-yeon!”

“W-What are you doing…?”

What was he thinking?

Had he eaten a tiger’s heart? They couldn’t understand his recklessness. But Bi Ryu-yeon, as always, was brazenly confident.

Perhaps his consistency was admirable. Or should they condemn him for it?

But to Bi Ryu-yeon, suicide was the most irrational act, the ultimate loss of self-control, a foolish act of desperation.

The Saber Emperor let it slide because of his personality, but this time, he thought it was too much. He was sure that Seop Un-myeong, the Sword Maniac, would live up to his nickname and attack Bi Ryu-yeon with a branch. He had no intention of stopping him. In fact, he wanted to beg him to do it.

But Seop Un-myeong betrayed everyone’s expectations. He simply smiled wryly and nodded.

“Yes, perhaps it was my own fault…”