BFLT 2

Episode 2 – The Immortal Divine Sword (2)

The sword danced.

No—rather than saying Lee Kang’s hand moved the blade, it was as if the sword itself writhed like a living dragon.

But that wasn’t all. A storm of qi whirled around his body. Along the dried, blocked meridians, energy surged like fire, and his senses stretched endlessly.

It was as though fireworks were exploding before his eyes.

The rusted sword gleamed and flashed like lightning.

Jeokpyo, the assassin, somehow managed to follow its motion with his eyes and hastily raised his sword to block the strike.

Kagang—!

But the rusty sword shattered Jeokpyo’s steel blade to pieces.

Fragments scattered like shards of glass.

Without pause, I-gang’s sword changed direction. Though his body was far from flexible, his arm slithered like a serpent.

It was a sword no ordinary assassin could possibly avoid.

“Wha—Aaaagh!”

In an instant, Jeokpyo’s chest split open.

Hot blood drenched I-gang’s face.

“Hmph.”

Just moments ago, the arrogant assassin—
now lay dead, unable even to scream.

“How many of you are there?”

It was not I-gang who spoke, but the spirit possessing him—the Immortal Divine Sword.

The assassins who had been so full of confidence moments before dared not even twitch.

“There can’t be only this many of you. Ten? Or perhaps twenty?”

“……”

“No matter. I’ll confirm it myself.”

The assassins exchanged glances.

Then, as if by signal, they all drew their weapons and charged.

But I-gang did not flinch.
Once again, swordlight scattered—and blood sprayed through the air.

It took less time than drinking a single cup of tea for the five assassins who had followed him into the corridor to be slaughtered.

Throughout it all, I-gang shared every sensation.

“How… how can this be…?”

Even if the Immortal Divine Sword was moving his body directly, it was still his weak, damaged body.
And yet, he toyed with assassins twice his size with absurd ease.

“We have little time, my descendant. Let us end this quickly.”

As the spirit spoke, qi burst from the Yongcheon point beneath I-gang’s feet, propelling his body forward like lightning.

Moments ago, he had complained that his running was too slow—but he would have to take that back.

The Immortal Divine Sword smashed through the secret door at the end of the corridor and burst into the open.

Clang! Clang!

As if expecting the flying daggers that immediately followed, he struck them all down midair.

Inside the dark warehouse, dozens of eyes gleamed in the shadows.

At a glance, more than a dozen assassins waited within.

“Ha! All gathered in one place—how convenient.”

I-gang shivered.

He could feel it—the barely contained joy in the spirit’s voice.

“Come, then…!”

Yes. Warriors were, by nature, killers.
The greater the warrior, the more skillful his killing.
Martial arts, in the end, were techniques for death, and the Jianghu was a pit of serpents devouring each other.

So how many men must the Immortal Divine Sword—hailed in life as the world’s greatest swordmaster—have slain?

I-gang felt torment.

Not because he was killing men.

But because these assassins were the ones who had killed So-hwa, the very ones he should cut down himself—
and yet, all he could do was lend his body to a ghost.

“Your mind holds strong.”

The Immortal Divine Sword seemed to read his thoughts.

The assassins couldn’t understand a word, but the spirit’s remark was enough to ignite the fight once more.

“Y-you lunatic! Die!”

They charged all at once.

The Immortal Divine Sword roared into them like a tiger among wild dogs.

That night, blood flowed like a river through the narrow warehouse.

“You saw it, didn’t you?”

“Haah… haaah…”

After slaying every last assassin, the spirit of the Immortal Divine Sword drifted free of I-gang’s body.

I-gang collapsed on the spot.

Moments ago, he had felt as though he could shatter the world—
now, it was as if he had woken from a fleeting dream.

Beside him lay So-hwa’s body—
the servant girl he had just retrieved from the hidden cellar.

From the secret passage behind them, flames burst upward.

“I asked if you saw it.”

“Saw… what?”

“The Heavenly Shadow Sword. The Immortal Heavenly Shadow Sword.”

“I… saw it.”

Even with his limited martial knowledge, I-gang’s heart pounded.

It was the thrill of witnessing something he could never hope to possess.

“Good. That is the last favor I can grant to a dying descendant.”

The words sent a chill through him.

“…So I’m going to die?”

“Your body, ruined by severed meridians, could not withstand my possession. It was inevitable.”

“……”

His consciousness began to blur.
The burning pain faded away, replaced by numbness.
He knew this feeling well—the body truly failing.

“Unless you have some heavenly medicine—Azure Spirit Jade, or Ten-Thousand-Year Snow Ginseng—there is no saving you.”

The Immortal Divine Sword looked down on him with pity. Such treasures were beyond reach here.

With effort, Lee kang’s lips moved.

“W-would… something I ate last year… still work?”

“What?”

“I took… some Ten-Thousand-Year Snow Ginseng… last year…”

“…Well… that… hmm…”

The mighty Immortal Sword’s expression faltered.

“I… can’t say for sure.”

And with that uncertain answer as his last memory, Lee Kang’s consciousness faded to black.

Xian (西安) —
The main estate of the Baek .

The physician smiled brightly.

“Marvelous! Nothing short of divine providence!”

When the Baek  summoned him, he’d expected a corpse—the exiled heir, Baek I-gang, his meridians all ruptured and body blackened with qi poisoning.

And yet, somehow, he had saved him.

“So my brother… will live?”

“Indeed! Only two days ago, his face was violet. Now, look—his complexion returns!”

“…Truly.”

Baek Ha-jun’s voice was cold—too cold.
His elder brother had survived an assassination and returned home alive, and yet his tone was ice.

The physician cleared his throat nervously.

“By any chance, did Young Master I-gang consume a rare elixir? A Great Restoration Pill, perhaps? Or… Snow Ginseng?”

Beak Ha-jun’s young eyes—chillingly calm for a twelve-year-old—stared him down.

The physician immediately regretted asking.

Of course not.
The Baek  only supported heirs of strong body and pure lineage.
Lee kang, born with Severed Yin Meridians, had been branded a cripple and exiled. No one would have given him such a treasure.

“I suppose you must be glad your brother will wake soon.”

A poor attempt at small talk—another mistake.

After all, with I-gang exiled, Beak Ha-jun had been appointed the next heir.

Beak Ha-jun merely stared silently. The physician bowed his head.

Then, suddenly, I-gang’s eyelids twitched.

“He’s waking!”

The physician turned to tell Beak Ha-jun—
but the boy was already leaving, his back cold and stiff.

“You’re not waiting?”

No answer at first. Then, without looking back:

“Tell him to report to the Red Dragon Hall when he wakes. The Lord wishes to speak with him.”

The tone was glacial.

The physician frowned.

“Even if he wakes, he won’t be able to move freely. He needs complete rest.”

But Beak Ha-jun ignored him and walked away.

The doctor clicked his tongue.

“Tch. No blood, no tears.”

To leave your brother—just returned from death—without a word of warmth…

He muttered curses under his breath.

“…So-hwa…”

I-gang stirred weakly.

“Ah! You mustn’t move yet!”

Ignoring the physician’s protests, I-gang sat up.

“So-hwa… what happened to her…”

“Please, lie down! You’re still not healed!”

But I-gang kept repeating the same words.

At last, the physician realized he meant the maid who had died protecting him.

“She would’ve been buried by now. It’s been half a month.”

“…I see.”

The physician frowned. Odd—this young man, rumored to be arrogant and lazy, showed only quiet grief.

Then I-gang asked, “Where is my sword?”

“Your sword? Ah, that rusty blade—you wouldn’t let go of it, so I took it away. The Lord has it now.”

A swordsman’s first instinct upon revival was to find his weapon. It fit—though it did not fit the rumors.

“So, Father is looking for me.”

“You… heard that?”

Apparently, he had overheard Ha-jun’s message.

He would have felt that chill too, the physician thought grimly.

Still staggering, I-gang rose and dressed himself.

The doctor could only gape. The pain from ruptured meridians should have been unbearable.

“Doesn’t it hurt?”

“It’s… familiar.”

“Familiar?”

He took a deep breath. His body screamed in agony, yet he endured it.

Indeed—it was familiar.

From the seizures caused by his congenital illness.
From the death of his past life.
From the pain of cancer, radiation, and the long, slow dying.

“This much… is nothing.”

At twenty-seven, he had died of terminal pancreatic cancer—
and now, reborn at fourteen with a crippled body, pain was an old companion.

He bowed.

“Thank you for saving my life.”

“I only did my duty.”

And before the physician could stop him, I-gang left, staggering toward the Red Dragon Hall.

“Lazy and frail, they said? Nonsense.”

The physician was sure of it now.

As I-gang walked, half the servants greeted him politely, half ignored him.

He didn’t care.

“I’m alive…”

The throbbing pain made the truth vivid.

He remembered the promise he made to So-hwa—to live.

And the Immortal Divine Sword…

Was that spirit still tied to the blade?

“I’ll find you again.”

He wanted answers.

By the time he looked up, he had reached the Red Dragon Hall, his father’s residence.

“Is the Lord inside?”

The gatekeeper recognized him and gasped.

“Y-Young Master!”

“I asked if he’s inside.”

“He is.”

“Tell him Baek I-gang has come, as summoned.”

The guard hesitated, then went in.

I-gang exhaled deeply, steadying himself.

He was nervous—his father, Baek Ryusan, was a man of immense authority and power.

Soon, the guard returned.

“You may enter.”

I-gang stepped along the jade-paved path, aware that countless guards watched from the shadows.

As he neared the great hall, he calculated in his mind—
what would they ask?
Would his father recognize the spirit in the sword?

At the door, he stopped.

“Baek I-gang, reporting.”

A deep, resonant voice answered from within.

“Enter.”

The sound alone radiated mastery—
the voice of his father, Baek Ryusan.

Swallowing hard, I-gang opened the door.

In the center of the hall sat the iron-blooded patriarch, flanked by his retainers.

Their gazes cut sharper than blades.

“You woke sooner than expected.”

“……”

I-gang couldn’t answer right away.

Not because of fear, or the cold eyes of the elders—
but because of what he saw.

“Why do you stand there, silent?”

“B-Baek I-gang greets the Lord.”

He bowed deeply, cold sweat trickling down his neck.

The reason for his terror was simple.

Upon the armrest of his father’s grand chair—
the Immortal Divine Sword sat perched casually, grinning.

“Awake already? Good to see you again, descendant.”

He waved cheerfully at Lee Kang.