Episode 298: The Namgung Clan

As the forces of the dark sect approached Kaifeng, the atmosphere among the righteous sects grew tense. The air was different from the previous day when they had faced their enemies with confidence.

A single day was too short to erase the memory of defeat, and the situation for the righteous sects hadn’t changed much since yesterday.

For the victors, a second victory seemed inevitable, while the defeated naturally feared a second loss.

In times of triumph, there’s no reason to doubt, but when things start to go awry, everyone begins to have second thoughts. Naturally, the demeanor of the righteous sects subtly shifted.

The Beggar Sect had no intention of abandoning Kaifeng, a symbol of their pride.

However, the monks of the Shaolin Temple considered retreating to Songshan to regroup and then reclaiming Kaifeng as a more realistic strategy.

Some, who were neither from the Beggar Sect nor Shaolin, were even prepared to abandon Songshan. After all, the last line of defense varies for each person.

In this situation, there were those who stepped forward more aggressively than even the Beggar Sect—the warriors of the Namgung Clan.

“The enemy is approaching! Rise and arm yourselves! We cannot simply hand over Kaifeng!”

The Namgung warriors seemed brimming with confidence, perhaps because they hadn’t fully experienced the sting of defeat the previous day, or maybe they genuinely believed they could defend Kaifeng.

But Namgung Myung’s perspective was different.

What they anticipated wasn’t victory, but defeat. A defeat that would leave only a small scar on the Namgung Clan but deal a critical blow to Shaolin.

Namgung Myung touched his crooked nose, broken by his father’s hand.

In the past, he had accepted such punishment as natural. His father was perfect, always right, so discipline was expected.

But now, he was confused by the thought that his father might not be perfect.

‘Father, were you always this petty, or did you become so in my absence?’

While Namgung Myung was lost in thought, the momentum shifted towards defending Kaifeng.

It was an expected outcome. The Shaolin monks couldn’t strongly advocate for retreat, while the Namgung warriors and those from Kaifeng insisted on fighting.

In truth, it was a bit late to flee.

The righteous sects gripped their swords and charged at the dark sect warriors. The air was filled with the sound of clashing steel and suppressed breaths.

At that moment, Namgung Myung reached a decision.

Namgung Jinchun sought to elevate himself by bringing down Shaolin, but Namgung Myung didn’t want to take that path.

Instead of pulling others down, he wanted to rise above them.

That was the true path of a martial artist, as Namgung Myung saw it.

And fortunately, this battlefield offered him the perfect stepping stone to leap higher than ever.

Muyeonggaek. A formidable opponent, but one that could propel Namgung Myung to new heights.

Namgung Myung approached Dang Mujin.

“Mujin.”

“What?”

“I want to fight Muyeonggaek again. Is that alright with you?”

Namgung Myung’s voice was unusually cautious.

With Muyeonggaek targeting Dang Mujin, the best choice for Mujin was to stay close to their strongest allies.

Standing by Manryeokseung would be ideal, but if that was too daunting, he should blend into the crowd. In such a situation, Muyeonggaek would find it hard to target him.

But for Namgung Myung to face Muyeonggaek, Dang Mujin would have to remain somewhat isolated, as he had the previous day.

This would mean Mujin couldn’t fully utilize his skills and would have to risk his life.

Yet, Dang Mujin simply asked back.

“If you want to fight, just do it. Why ask me?”

“Because I need you as bait.”

“Bait needs to be catchable. Do you think Muyeonggaek can kill me?”

As soon as Dang Mujin finished speaking, a sword, shorter than a typical warrior’s, flew towards the back of his neck.

Muyeonggaek had approached unnoticed and responded to Mujin’s words with a swing of his sword.

Clang—

Namgung Myung and Dang Mujin simultaneously deflected Muyeonggaek’s attack.

“See? No matter how skilled, Muyeonggaek can’t kill me.”

Despite his bravado, Dang Mujin’s neck stung where the skin had been slightly cut. Contrary to his words, Muyeonggaek’s sword had indeed reached him.

In a situation where most would freeze in fear, Dang Mujin remained calm.

“You’ve coated your sword with poison. Galamcho poison… Muyeonggaek, do you think that will work on me?”

His words were a taunt to Muyeonggaek, but also a gesture of consideration for Namgung Myung.

Thus, Namgung Myung smiled with satisfaction.

He steadied his breath and launched himself towards the faint presence.

Just as martial artists vary in skill, assassins differ greatly in their ability to conceal their presence.

For an average assassin, hiding one’s presence means making no sound.

While people rely heavily on sight, they also depend significantly on hearing to sense those around them.

If no sound is heard, it’s hard to notice someone even if they’re nearby.

Reaching a level where no sound is made with each step means one is more than capable as an assassin.

A skilled assassin can deceive a martial artist’s senses.

Martial artists use sight, hearing, and their sixth sense to detect their opponents’ movements.

They can block attacks from outside their field of vision and sense people approaching from outside a building thanks to their keen sixth sense.

Because this sense is so reliable, martial artists depend on it heavily. In critical moments, they may even rely on it more than sight when swinging their swords.

If this trusted sense fails to detect an opponent, the void it leaves is significant. It means even a moderately skilled martial artist can be easily killed.

Muyeonggaek had reached a level beyond that.

He could confuse not only hearing and the sixth sense but also sight, thanks to his unique martial art, Muyeongbo.

With hearing, the sixth sense, and even sight unreliable, no sense could guarantee safety against Muyeonggaek. Even with eyes open, mind focused, and ears attentive, one could still lose their head.

The reason the former leader of the Assassins’ Guild couldn’t claim to be the best assassin was because of Muyeonggaek and Muyeongbo.

As such a formidable assassin, Muyeonggaek believed it wouldn’t be difficult to take Dang Mujin’s life.

However, Dang Mujin’s senses were sharp, making him hard to deceive. Not that it meant he couldn’t be killed.

The real issue wasn’t Dang Mujin but the one hovering near him.

‘Is he similar to the former guild leader? No, he’s far superior.’

A person with sharp senses and the ability to conceal his presence.

For the first time, Muyeonggaek coveted someone else’s talent. He thought that if he took Namgung Myung as his disciple, the next generation might see an assassin become the best in the world.

‘Namgung Myung, wasn’t it? I heard he had a falling out with the Namgung Clan.’

Muyeonggaek redirected his sword to block Namgung Myung’s attack.

He asked briefly.

“Namgung Myung, was it? I’ll get straight to the point. Become my disciple.”

Namgung Myung responded as if he had been waiting for this.

“I was wondering when you’d make that offer.”

“What do you mean?”

“Yesterday, I thought there was quite a bit to learn.”

Muyeonggaek chuckled.

’…Yesterday?’

It sounded as if there was nothing left to learn today. It was a statement that could be seen as either confident or arrogant. But if backed by skill and talent, such an attitude could be overlooked.

Thus, Muyeonggaek made up his mind. Forget Guangyeomra’s request; he would focus on Namgung Myung.

He would show Namgung Myung the gap in their skills and take him as a disciple.

Muyeonggaek unleashed a move from Muyeongbo, his signature martial art, called Chunyuim. In an instant, his presence, which had seemed to vanish, appeared behind Namgung Myung.

“Is there still nothing to learn?”

Namgung Myung turned swiftly, narrowly deflecting Muyeonggaek’s sword.

“You’ve still got a trick or two up your sleeve. Worthy of calling yourself a master.”

“Do you intend to become my disciple?”

“Sure, why not?”

Even as he spoke, Namgung Myung’s sword never stopped moving.

Muyeonggaek couldn’t tell if Namgung Myung was serious or joking.

But it didn’t matter. Namgung Myung was a talent worth having, and with such talent, a bit of arrogance was acceptable.

‘He wouldn’t speak of a master-disciple relationship so lightly. I’ll have to make him truly desire to be my disciple.’

Muyeonggaek revealed more of his skills, intending to overwhelm Namgung Myung and make him admire his prowess.

But things didn’t go as planned.

’…?’

At first, the gap seemed significant. Muyeonggaek consistently targeted Namgung Myung’s weaknesses, pressing him hard, while Namgung Myung struggled to defend.

But soon, the gap didn’t seem as wide as expected. It felt as if it was closing.

To make matters worse, the situation began to reverse. Namgung Myung never lost track of Muyeonggaek’s movements, while Muyeonggaek occasionally lost sight of Namgung Myung.

“Is it this way?”

Namgoong Myung was the first to sense Muyeonggaek’s presence and even extended his sword in response. It was an experience so unprecedented in his life that Muyeonggaek couldn’t help but be taken aback.

After another dozen exchanges, Namgoong Myung lowered his sword and playfully cupped his hands in a salute.

“Master, I think it’s time for me to leave the mountain.”

“What on earth are you talking about all of a sudden?”

“What else could it be? I’ve learned all there is to learn, so it’s time for me to go.”

“But that’s—”

Before Muyeonggaek could finish his question, Namgoong Myung took a step back.

In that instant, his lowered sword seemed to vanish behind a curtain, and Namgoong Myung’s figure disappeared.

Muyeonggaek was stunned, his breath caught in his throat. What Namgoong Myung had just demonstrated was the first form of the Muyeongbo technique, Night Curtain.

This was only the second time Muyeonggaek had seen someone perform Muyeongbo.

Naturally, the first time was through his own master, the venerable Sakwol Elder.

After Sakwol Elder’s death, Muyeonggaek had only practiced Muyeongbo himself, never witnessing it performed by another.

A thought suddenly struck him.

‘Could that boy have somehow learned my martial arts?’

No, that couldn’t be. Martial arts aren’t something you can pick up so easily.

Even with a solid foundation, it had taken Muyeonggaek two full years to master Night Curtain, the first form of Muyeongbo.

‘Then where did he learn it? Could he have been taught by Sakwol Elder?’

That was impossible too. Namgoong Myung was too young. He must have been born after Sakwol Elder passed away.

His mind was a whirl of confusion.

‘Did Sakwol Elder have another disciple I didn’t know about? Did a hidden disciple teach this boy Muyeongbo? How is he connected to the Namgoong family? Or was Sakwol Elder originally from the Namgoong family?’

Noticing Muyeonggaek’s bewilderment, Namgoong Myung laughed lightly.

“Wow, you look really surprised.”

“Who is your master, boy?”

“Just a moment ago, you claimed to be my master. Have you already forgotten?”

“Enough with the nonsense!”

One thing was clear: Namgoong Myung had indeed mastered Muyeongbo.

It was becoming clear why this young man had managed to survive in front of him, and why his movements were so subtly elusive.

The intent to kill in Muyeonggaek’s sword grew stronger. This was no longer a time to speak of master and disciple.

‘Muyeongbo must remain a martial art passed down to only one person.’

A martial art passed down to only one person meant that if someone who hadn’t been taught by him performed Muyeongbo, they must be eliminated.

Thus, Muyeonggaek felt no remorse for the unknown master of Namgoong Myung.

Muyeongbo was meant solely for Muyeonggaek and, eventually, his own chosen disciple.

Muyeonggaek firmly planted his heel into the ground and executed the Spring Elm Shade technique.

This was something that even someone who had learned Muyeongbo couldn’t imitate. Unlike other forms of Muyeongbo, Spring Elm Shade was a technique Muyeonggaek had personally created and added.

Muyeonggaek’s figure seemed to sink into the ground, only to reappear behind Namgoong Myung.

Without hesitation, he thrust his sword towards Namgoong Myung’s back.

‘This is the end.’

But just before the sword could make contact, Namgoong Myung’s foot touched the ground. This time, his figure crumbled away like a mirage before Muyeonggaek’s eyes.

Muyeonggaek froze like a stone.

Then, from behind him, Namgoong Myung’s voice rang out.

“My, you seem quite startled.”

Muyeonggaek’s breath came in ragged gasps.

How could this boy perform Spring Elm Shade, a technique he had invented himself? Not even Sakwol Elder could replicate it.

“Master, it’s time for you to go.”

Unlike before, the thought of escaping didn’t even cross his mind.

The emotion Muyeonggaek felt at that moment was akin to the shock of having his life stolen away.

The years of contemplation and the achievement of adding a new form to Muyeongbo were all invalidated in an instant.

And only now did he realize that there was a hint of sincerity in Namgoong Myung’s earlier words about being his disciple.

Muyeonggaek finally found a small comfort. Perhaps he would leave a mark in the history of the martial world.

He spoke haltingly.

“Master… Yes, I suppose I am your master, aren’t I?”

“Of course.”

It was not a moment for laughter, yet Namgoong Myung’s voice was filled with mirth.

“Though I have hundreds of masters, you are indeed one of them. Even if there are hundreds of lighthouses guiding my way, a lighthouse is still a lighthouse, isn’t it?”

Muyeonggaek couldn’t comprehend what that meant.

It wasn’t because he was foolish. Anyone would have been baffled.

Namgoong Myung drove his sword into Muyeonggaek’s back and added one last remark.

“If the King of the Underworld asks who sent you, tell him it was Namgoong Myung, the Sixth.”

With that, Namgoong Myung began to stride confidently down his own path.