Chapter 37
“Hong Seol-ah, come, let me try.”
Namgung Baek, holding his chopsticks, began slowly bringing pieces of meat toward Hong Seol’s mouth.
Clink! Clink! Clink!
Each time, Namgung Ho’s dazzling chopstick skills provided an unbreakable defense, of course.
In the end, Namgung Baek couldn’t feed Hong Seol a single bite and had no choice but to put down his chopsticks.
The young wolf beastman wrinkled his snout in displeasure.
“……”
He didn’t speak, but it was obvious what he was thinking.
‘How can he use a secret martial art that only works for the clan leader with just chopsticks?’
And that, too, to his grandson.
Namgung Baek’s face visibly stiffened, but Namgung Ho remained unfazed.
In fact, he was grateful that his grandson had broken through the barrier and expressed himself in that way.
Moreover, it had been done deliberately to provoke Namgung Baek a little.
He wanted to give his grandson a small reason, even though he thought there was no need for him to continue learning martial arts.
“Hmph. If you feel wronged, train in martial arts and become the clan leader yourself.”
At that, Namgung Baek, face tight with displeasure, placed his chopsticks on the table.
Seeing this, Namgung Ho leaned in with an even more teasing remark.
“Too bad, but I won’t give up this joy. Come here, my little one!”
“Ah—”
Namgung Ho sat Hong Seol on his lap and carefully fed her pieces of meat.
By now, Hong Seol had grown accustomed to this and happily ate the food with a munch.
Watching this, Namgung Ho relished the blissful moment.
Her cheeks had plumped up adorably.
‘I can’t even imagine that she was once that timid little girl.’
When the children’s bellies were full, Namgung Ho brushed off his seat and stood.
“Seol-ah, you can get up now.”
“Yes, sir!”
What’s going on?
Hong Seol, tense, jumped down from the chair, drawing the curious gazes of the boys.
Seeing this, Namgung Ho grinned.
Finally, he had secured some uninterrupted time to spend with Hong Seol.
“Today is the day Seol-ah receives her first training since becoming my disciple.”
At that, the mouths of the boys, Heuk and Jeok, dropped in shock.
The first training since becoming the disciple of the Supreme Clan Leader—how grueling it must be!
Their curiosity quickly turned to concern.
Among them, Baekman still wore a dissatisfied expression.
Namgung Ho thought this was far better than his usual indifferent face.
‘He doesn’t like that I’m monopolizing Seol-ah. But it’s useless, kid!’
The victorious Namgung Ho lifted his chin proudly.
“Seol-ah, let’s go.”
What kind of training would it be today?
Hong Seol, unaware of anything, stiffened like a wooden puppet as she followed him.
“Grandfather…”
A tiny voice echoed through the spacious training ground attached to Changcheon Pavilion.
It was Hong Seol, sitting in front of a single desk in the center of the training ground.
Namgung Ho, standing firmly before her, answered solemnly.
“Why do you call me during training?”
“Well… it’s just that…”
Does this really have anything to do with martial arts training?
Hong Seol’s face was full of unspoken doubts.
It made sense—she had spent the past few days in the center of the training ground, reading only the books Namgung Ho had given her.
For someone who had just become the disciple of the long-awaited ‘Sword King,’ her daily routine was rather unusual.
‘Thanks to this, I’ve now mastered reading perfectly… but still…’
How long would she have to just read books?
Moreover, the book she was reading wasn’t even a martial arts manual.
“Is the book boring?”
“No.”
Hong Seol shook her head firmly.
“Not exactly, but… I wonder if just sitting here is enough…”
‘Sitting idly while training with Changcheon Daejoo must be maddening. Our Seol-ah is truly a born martial artist!’
Namgung Ho grinned and covered Hong Seol’s head with his large hand.
“Hehe.”
Hong Seol, liking the feeling, laughed without a second thought. Lately, she had been laughing like this often.
“Seol-ah, what do you think is the greatest virtue a martial artist must possess?”
Virtue?
The word was too difficult for Hong Seol to understand.
“Um…”
Seeing her hesitate, Namgung Ho spoke seriously.
“It is righteousness and chivalry—both together.”
“Ri… chivalry…?”
Namgung Ho suppressed a smile and repeated in a solemn tone.
“No, I mean righteousness (Ui) and chivalry (Hyeop).”
Ah, yes.
Hong Seol lifted her plump fingers and traced the characters in the air.
She had clearly learned these characters before.
“Does it mean we should do what’s right with our strength and help others?”
“Yes, exactly that!”
Namgung Ho pressed lightly on her head in approval.
It meant he was proud that she had figured it out on her own.
“When you learn martial arts, strength naturally follows. You, Hong Seol, will gain even greater strength than others because of your talent.”
Hong Seol’s cheeks turned red at that.
‘I have talent…!’
Though she had gotten used to smiling, she still hadn’t fully adjusted to the sudden increase in praise around her.
‘If I learn martial arts and practice righteousness and chivalry, will everyone love me more?’
Maybe even Mom…
Hong Seol swallowed the words she couldn’t bring herself to speak.
“That is why you are made to read these books. So you can see and learn the righteousness and chivalry of our ancestors.”
The book in Hong Seol’s hands was titled The Great Battle of the Righteous Sect.
It recorded the war between the righteous sects and the demonic cult 300 years ago.
“As written in this book, there exists a being called the Cheonma. It has mastered demonic arts to the extreme, has a cruel disposition, and treats human lives as insignificant.”
Hong Seol imagined the Cheonma with bloodshot eyes and hair flowing down to its waist.
‘Ugh!’
Even imagining it made her shiver. But she tried to steel herself and not show fear.
‘I am the disciple of the Supreme Clan Leader of the Namgung family—I cannot be afraid of a Cheonma!’
“The Cheonma Cult, also called the demonic cult, worships the Cheonma as their leader. Their dream is to engulf the world, and 300 years ago, they advanced into the Central Plains.”
Whoa!
It felt as though hordes of cultists were emerging over the mountains right in front of her.
“It began with Kunlun. Wherever the hundred thousand cultists passed, rivers of blood flowed.”
No one was spared—not children, not the elderly.
Anyone caught by the cultists died gruesomely.
The cruel part was that each corpse had its nails removed.
For those who had mastered demonic arts, human nails served as medicine to reduce the pain from their powers.
Thus, the battlefield was littered with corpses with red-stained hands.
The medicine was called Hongsudoan—the Red Hand Pill.
‘S-Scary…’
Frightened, Hong Seol swallowed and asked,
“Did the Namgung family fight the Cheonma too?”
“Of course. The Supreme Sword Elder Namgung Wi, the clan leader at the time, along with the Sword Elders of Changcheon, were all mobilized.”
By today’s standards, Namgung Ho, the current clan leader Namgung On, and the Supreme Elder Namgung Uigyeol would have all drawn their swords and rushed in.
That was Namgung’s righteousness and chivalry.
Thinking this made Hong Seol shiver all over.
“D-Did they win?”
Namgung Ho slowly shook his head. Hong Seol, on the verge of tears, asked,
“Th-Then did they lose…?”
“They didn’t lose either. The battle dragged on without either side delivering a fatal blow.”
Even with the Namgung clan leader personally leading, neither side could decisively win.
What kind of being was the Cheonma?
Despite her fear, Hong Seol’s curiosity gradually grew.
“Were Kunlun and the Namgung family the only ones who fought the Cheonma?”
Namgung Ho shook his head.
“No. All sects possessing righteousness and chivalry united under the banner of the Martial Alliance.”
“Who were they?”
“They are called the Five Great Clans and the Nine Allied Factions, along with all the sects under the Martial Alliance.”
“Does that include the Sacheon Tang Clan?”
Hong Seol imagined a giant white serpent floating above a lake.
“Yes. Thanks to the joint efforts of Namgung and the Tang clan, they were finally able to poison the Cheonma.”
Mandokbulchim (Invulnerable to All Poisons).
To make a Cheonma, invulnerable to any poison, susceptible was truly a stroke of divine luck.
And the sacrifices were immense.
Hong Seol’s eyes sparkled after hearing the story.
“Then… did the Cheonma die?”
