Chapter 11

The moment Gal Museong’s head hit the ground—

Silence descended.

The leader who had been their sky until moments ago was now nothing more than a bloodied lump of flesh rolling in the dirt.

“L-Lord Leader…?”

Someone’s trembling voice broke the stillness.

“Kill him!”

The vice leader roared, his eyes bloodshot.

Murderous intent filled the eyes of the martial artists at his command.

Shrring! Shring!

The sound of dozens of swords being drawn echoed one after another.

Killing intent surrounded him from all sides, and countless blades gleamed beneath the sunlight.

Yet Namgung Cheon did not move.

He merely lowered his gaze to the sword in his hand—Mukhon.

At that moment—

Whoosh!

Blue-black flames erupted once more from the blade.

Sword Aura.

The symbol of the Transcendent Realm and an absolute force capable of cutting through all things.

A violent Sword Wind exploded from the burning aura and swept across the training grounds.

Fwoooosh—!

It felt as though dozens of invisible blades were carving through everyone’s flesh.

Dust was blasted away in waves, and the nearby members instinctively staggered backward.

Then—

Rumble…

Driven by that overwhelming pressure, Gal Museong’s severed head began rolling across the ground as if it were still alive.

Leaving a trail of blood behind it, the head rolled to a stop at the vice leader’s feet.

“…!”

The vice leader found himself staring directly into those empty eyes, which seemed to accuse him even in death.

Reality came crashing back.

When he lifted his head, his gaze met Namgung Cheon’s.

Wrapped in blazing Sword Aura, Namgung Cheon looked down upon him.

The killing intent radiating from him crushed the combined bloodlust of dozens of men.

“Ugh…”

The faces of the vice leader and the Blood Sword Corps members turned deathly pale.

They could vividly feel it.

It felt as though their bodies were being sliced into dozens, hundreds of pieces.

The fear of death.

That primal terror froze them where they stood.

Only then did Namgung Cheon slowly raise his head.

He swept his gaze across the members one by one before leisurely turning toward the main gate.

Step. Step.

His footsteps echoed through the silent training grounds.

As he approached, the members blocking his path instinctively retreated in terror, opening a road before him.

Dozens of Blood Sword Corps members split apart, creating a passage.

Namgung Cheon walked through it.

When he finally reached the wide-open gate, he paused briefly.

A memory surfaced in his mind.

In his previous life, he had watched wolves tear apart the corpse of a defeated alpha.

The nature of wolves.

The strongest claims everything.

Human nature was not much different.

Everything was a struggle for dominance.

Without turning around, he spoke quietly.

“Now that the leader is dead… I suppose it’s time to choose the next one.”

With those words, Namgung Cheon left the estate without a trace of hesitation.

Even long after he departed, silence remained.

But soon—

Thud.

A small sound echoed.

“Kill the vice leader!”

“You bastard!”

A storm of blood swept through the Blood Sword Corps.

A faint smile appeared on Namgung Cheon’s lips as he walked away from the estate.

* * *

News spread that Namgung Cheon had defeated Blood Ghost Sword Gal Museong and that the Blood Sword Corps had collapsed overnight.

At first, people dismissed it as a ridiculous rumor.

But before that rumor had even fully spread, Namgung Cheon’s sword was already aimed at another giant of Hefei.

Qingfeng Sword Sect.

A righteous sword sect considered the equal of the Thunderclap Gate.

Its leader, Falling Blossom Sword Jin Hyeon, was a veteran master who had earned distinction during the Great War between the Righteous and Demonic factions.

He accepted Namgung Cheon’s challenge with dignity.

In front of hundreds of spectators, an honorable duel unfolded.

Yet Jin Hyeon’s elegant sword techniques were little more than a dance before Namgung Cheon’s blade.

The battle did not last thirty exchanges.

Jin Hyeon ultimately sheathed his sword and openly admitted defeat.

Namgung Cheon’s march did not stop there.

The following day, he headed directly to the nearby unorthodox faction force known as Paesan Hall.

Its leader, Mixed-Origin Spear Ma Cheonil, wielded a spear as swift as lightning.

Yet not once did it brush even the edge of Namgung Cheon’s clothing.

In the end, his spear shaft was cut cleanly in half by Namgung Cheon’s sword.

Within only two days, leaders of both the righteous and unorthodox factions had fallen beneath a single man’s blade.

The atmosphere of Hefei changed.

People began wondering where Namgung Cheon would appear next.

Soon, they began following him.

By the time the number of Peak Realm experts he had defeated exceeded eight—

Everyone finally realized something.

He could no longer be called merely the Third Young Master of the Namgung Clan.

Thus a new title spread through Hefei and eventually all of Anhui Province.

A name spoken with both reverence and fear.

Sword Ghost.

Namgung Cheon’s new title shook the entire region.

* * *

A shabby inn on a street corner.

Namgung Cheon sat before a steaming bowl of noodles.

The crowd surrounding the inn buzzed with excitement, but he paid them no attention as he lifted his chopsticks.

Just then—

The inn doors burst open.

A huge man carrying twin sabers strode inside.

His eyes were fixed on only one person from the moment he entered.

Namgung Cheon.

“Are you the one known as Sword Ghost Namgung Cheon?”

His voice carried a clear challenge.

“I am Gale Twin Sabers Pung Jinak from Shandong! I have traveled a great distance to defeat you and make my name known throughout the world. Please grant me a duel!”

Confidence overflowed from his declaration.

“Gale Twin Sabers?!”

“He came all the way from Shandong?”

The crowd’s murmurs grew louder.

Pung Jinak was not someone people could casually dismiss.

Yet Namgung Cheon did not even raise his head.

His gaze remained fixed on the steam rising from the noodle broth.

He merely frowned slightly.

The blatant disregard caused Pung Jinak’s face to alternate between red and blue with anger.

Still, he did not move rashly.

He focused all his senses on gauging his opponent.

Namgung Cheon silently lifted a strand of noodles.

Slurp.

He chewed slowly and swallowed.

An ordinary action.

A peaceful action.

Yet an invisible pressure suddenly descended upon Pung Jinak’s entire body.

The moment Namgung Cheon swallowed—

That pressure became even heavier.

“Urgh…!”

Cold sweat poured from Pung Jinak’s forehead.

He desperately circulated his internal energy to resist.

The hands gripping his sabers trembled violently.

His back was soaked with sweat.

Slurp…

His opponent was merely eating a meal.

Yet Pung Jinak had to exert every ounce of strength simply to remain standing.

Namgung Cheon lifted his chopsticks once more and brought the remaining noodles to his mouth.

Crack.

Something snapped inside Pung Jinak’s knees.

He could endure no longer.

If he continued resisting, every bone in his body would shatter, and his ribs would pierce his heart.

Finally—

Thud.

The giant collapsed to his knees.

Head lowered, he gasped for breath.

Everyone inside and outside the inn watched in stunned silence.

Clack.

Only then did Namgung Cheon place his chopsticks down.

He slowly turned his head and looked at the kneeling Pung Jinak.

“…”

Pung Jinak could not even bring himself to meet his gaze.

With a trembling voice, he admitted defeat.

“…I… I have lost.”

Only then did Namgung Cheon withdraw his pressure and slowly rise from his seat.

He tossed a few coins onto the table to pay for the meal and left the inn.

This makes five today already.

Annoying flies seeking to steal his fame had begun swarming around him.

This was enough.

It was time to end this demonstration.

* * *

A quiet room in an inn outside Hefei.

Namgung Cheon leaned against a creaking wooden window, silently gazing at the city as darkness settled over it.

Countless oil lamps flickered to life like stars.

Yet the beautiful nightscape did not enter his eyes.

His thoughts were reviewing the events of the past several days.

Thunderclap Blade Gwak San.

Blood Ghost Sword Gal Museong.

Each had once dominated Hefei in their own way.

Their martial arts had possessed unique characteristics, and each had indeed reached a respectable level.

But that was all.

Compared to the summit he had once reached as the Heavenly Demon, they were no more than nameless wildflowers blooming halfway up a mountain.

Other than recluses and the Namgung Clan itself, there is no one left in Hefei—or even all of Anhui—capable of receiving my sword.

Fighting the insignificant flies chasing after his fame was nothing but a waste of time.

Nine victories.

Nine proofs.

Now it was time to place a period at the end of this journey.

One final battle.

A battle that would completely announce his return to the martial world and ensure that the scheming fools within the clan would never again think of testing him.

Then who should be the tenth and final opponent?

It must be someone on a completely different level.

That was the first condition.

Peak Realm experts were insufficient.

To draw out his true strength, the opponent had to be someone who had either stepped onto the threshold of the Transcendent Realm—or already entered it.

Only then can the final act of this proof be worthy.

The second condition:

The person could not be from the Namgung Clan.

It was still too early to cross swords with the clan’s internal experts.

Until the clan head returned, internal conflicts had to be avoided.

A Transcendent Realm expert in Anhui who was not part of the Namgung Clan.

Did such a contradictory existence even exist?

A faint crease formed between Namgung Cheon’s brows.

No suitable candidate came to mind.

As he stared at the bright moon outside his window—

Suddenly.

A forgotten memory flashed through his mind like lightning.

The information he had gathered as the Heavenly Demon in his previous life merged with the memories of the current Namgung Cheon.

And finally, a single figure emerged.

…That’s right. There was one.

One person.

Without the backing of a great sect or powerful clan.

A solitary genius who had climbed to the highest ranks relying solely on the sword in his hand.

The only disciple of the Wandering King, ruler of all wandering martial artists.

A prodigy said to possess talent surpassing even his master.

A master who had long since entered the Transcendent Realm.

And someone likely to be staying in Hefei at this very moment.

I’ve found him.

His final opponent.

Namgung Cheon’s eyes shone brighter than ever.

The pure fighting spirit of a martial artist blazed within them.

Quietly, he spoke the name.

“Silent Extinction Sword, Mujin.“

The final name that would bring this trial of proof to its end.