Chapter 16…
Invincible Sword Spirit (16)
Sword of Fading Light – Jeok Hwa-myeong
Though not as formidable as Naeng Yeoseol, even the tavern master of Bulsanbyeokchae felt that this man was stronger than Son O-bo.
The man thought there would be more questions, but that was the end of the Sword Spirit’s words.
Watching the Sword Spirit calmly savoring his food again, he felt a little embarrassed at his own sudden burst of pride.
“Hahaha! Since fate has brought us together, let’s exchange greetings. I am Jeok Hwa-myeong.”
“Sword of Fading Light!”
The moment Jeok Hwa-myeong gave his name, someone nearby muttered his title.
The Sword of Fading Light, Jeok Hwa-myeong!
A martial artist caught between the orthodox and unorthodox sects—not counted among the Hundred Great Masters of the martial world, yet still a figure of notable fame.
He had earned the title “Sword of Fading Light,” supposedly because his blade could sever the brightness of dawn. But in truth, he was better known in the martial world for severing human lives rather than light itself.
“They call me the Sword Spirit. But sir, you must be someone famous. People seem awfully surprised to see you.”
“It’s nothing but an empty reputation.”
Tap, tap…
At that moment, someone approached the two of them. It was Yi Do-gun.
“To meet the great Jeok Hwa-myeong, the Sword of Fading Light—it’s an honor. I am Yi Do-gun of the Shin Chang Medical Clan.”
“Is that so? A pleasure to meet you.”
Jeok Hwa-myeong knew of the Shin Chang clan and treated him with the courtesy due his name.
“If it pleases you, might you join us in sharing a meal?”
Jeok Hwa-myeong turned his head, glancing at Hyeon Jin-myeong and Hyeon Su-mi, who were seated with him.
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll eat here.”
Yi Do-gun’s expression shifted slightly before returning to normal.
“Perhaps, over a shared meal, you could tell us tales of the martial world. And we, as the younger generation…”
Though Yi Do-gun tried to persuade him, Jeok Hwa-myeong remained unmoved.
“I’ll be staying with this young swordsman. You should enjoy yourselves.”
Yi Do-gun’s gaze shifted to the Sword Spirit. His eyes held no goodwill.
“If that is your wish, then so be it…”
Yi Do-gun bowed and withdrew.
“Looks like I might’ve gotten you into trouble,” Jeok Hwa-myeong said, having noticed the hostility in Yi Do-gun’s eyes.
“Why? Because of that guy? Don’t worry. He’s just someone who doesn’t know his place.”
Though not said loudly, the Sword Spirit’s words carried clearly enough to reach Yi Do-gun’s ears.
Yi Do-gun’s face flushed red.
Jeok Hwa-myeong gave an intrigued look.
“But he’s from the Shin Chang Medical Clan. He’s a martial man. Do you think you can defeat him?”
“There’s no reason I couldn’t.”
Yi Do-gun’s gaze turned back to the Sword Spirit, but with Jeok Hwa-myeong present, he couldn’t act as he pleased.
He knew well enough that no matter how recklessly he behaved in Gwangju, hiding behind his clan’s prestige, there were still lines he could not cross. That was why, though many called him a wastrel, his clan rarely chastised him.
“Quite a confidence you have.”
“It’s not about confidence. I’m just not so weak that I’d be beaten by someone who only relies on his clan’s power. You know the saying—‘a lamp flickers before the wind.’”
A lamp before the wind—fragile, fleeting.
“The power of a clan can vanish at any time. For a clan to prosper for generations, its members must cultivate themselves and hone their skills to grow stronger…”
Jeok Hwa-myeong nodded.
The words were not wrong. Still, the killing intent radiating from Yi Do-gun worried him.
“You can tell what kind of family a person comes from by looking at them,” the Sword Spirit added.
“As expected of a scholar’s son—your tongue is quick,” Yi Do-gun snapped, unable to hold back.
Despite Jeok Hwa-myeong sitting beside the Sword Spirit, Yi Do-gun no longer restrained himself.
“This boy doesn’t even know martial arts!”
Jeok Hwa-myeong tried to stop him, but it was useless.
“If it were just me being insulted, I wouldn’t care. Perhaps I am lacking, as he says. But this man has insulted my clan!”
By lowering himself, Yi Do-gun made it seem as though he was not a petty man, while invoking his clan to tie Jeok Hwa-myeong’s hands.
Jeok Hwa-myeong frowned.
“Can you take responsibility for what you just said?”
His eyes turned to the Sword Spirit, who calmly kept eating.
The onlookers upstairs pitied the young man, yet couldn’t look away, wondering what would happen next.
“People are strange,” the Sword Spirit muttered.
Most assumed he would apologize and smooth things over. They were wrong.
“All I want is to eat in peace. Why does everyone insist on bothering me?”
As the Sword Spirit stood, the sword at his waist caught people’s attention.
“You carry a sword? So you are a martial man?”
“And why should that matter?”
“Because it is disgraceful for a martial man to fight an ordinary person!”
The Sword Spirit’s lips curled into a smirk.
“How strange. Behind closed doors, you commit all sorts of vile acts, but when there’s an audience, you talk of honor and righteousness. Just like Ghost Grandpa said—he’s never been wrong.”
“Watch your tongue…”
Shhhk!
Yi Do-gun could no longer hold back and drew his sword. The Sword Spirit, unafraid, spoke softly.
“Drawing your sword—does that mean you’ve staked your life?”
Yi Do-gun flinched as the atmosphere around the Sword Spirit shifted. He felt himself shrinking before it.
“My life? Fine! Yes, I’ve staked my life!” he shouted, though inside, fear gnawed at him.
‘What…!’
Seeing the smirk on the Sword Spirit’s lips sent a chill down Yi Do-gun’s spine.
“Yes, drawing your sword means just that. The will to take a life, and the awareness that you may lose your own…”
Slowly, the Sword Spirit raised his hand, moving it toward Yi Do-gun’s face. Yi Do-gun stared blankly, unable to react.
Everyone—Jeok Hwa-myeong included—watched in confusion.
Yi Do-gun tried to dodge, but his body wouldn’t obey.
It was as if some invisible, sticky force held him down. Cold sweat ran down his brow and back, betraying his mounting panic.
Tap.
The Sword Spirit’s hand touched Yi Do-gun’s face.
“You’re still young, so I’ll let it go this time. But remember—if you draw your sword again, it could be your death.”
He withdrew his hand. Yi Do-gun was bewildered, unable to comprehend what had just happened.
“What sorcery is this?!” he shouted, convinced no ordinary means could have left him so helpless.
Ignoring him, the Sword Spirit sat back down.
“You bastard!” Yi Do-gun glared, seething, but the Sword Spirit remained cold and indifferent.
“Do you know what a natural enemy is?”
“Natural enemy?”
“Yes. When a frog sees a snake, it freezes. Even knowing that staying still means it will be eaten, it cannot move. Why is that?”
Yi Do-gun narrowed his eyes.
“Because of fear. Fear paralyzes thought. You are the same.”
“Utter nonsense!”
“Shall we try again, then?”
The Sword Spirit rose once more, extending his hand slowly toward Yi Do-gun.
Again, Yi Do-gun could not move, his face easily seized.
“Stop relying on your clan’s power to throw your weight around.”
With a firm push downward and a sweeping kick, the Sword Spirit sent Yi Do-gun crashing to the floor.
Thud!
The heavy sound echoed as Yi Do-gun collapsed and fainted on the spot.
Jeok Hwa-myeong couldn’t help but marvel at the clean efficiency of the Sword Spirit’s move.
“You there! Take him away,” the Sword Spirit said to Hyeon Jin-myeong.
Startled, Hyeon Jin-myeong stumbled forward, lifting the unconscious Yi Do-gun, and returned him to their table.
Hyeon Su-mi, however, couldn’t take her eyes off the Sword Spirit. Her gaze had shifted from curiosity to fascination.
Handsome, forceful, clearly skilled in martial arts… and surely wealthy too.
To her, the Sword Spirit seemed perfect.
“Impressive. I never imagined you’d trained in martial arts,” Jeok Hwa-myeong remarked as the Sword Spirit sat back down.
“It’s nothing. I just never mentioned it. The truth is—I’m actually a master.”
