The moment Namgung Myung declared he would take over the Namgung Clan from his father, most of the group was left in shock. Even Yang and Yeom, who had only recently joined them, were visibly taken aback.
The only one who remained calm was Seolhwa, simply because she hadn’t fully grasped what Namgung Myung was saying.
Seolhwa tugged at Hyun Gong’s sleeve, whispering, “What’s going on? What’s happening?”
Tang Mujin, with a slightly sarcastic tone, addressed Namgung Myung.
“So, you’ve improved a bit, and now you’re showing your true colors?”
Hong Geolgae, standing nearby, shook his head in disbelief.
“He’s turned into a real piece of work. Worse than Hyun Gong, even…”
Hyun Gong wore a mix of admiration and disbelief on his face.
“Every time I thought about becoming the head of the Wudang Sect, I wondered if I was being too ambitious. But compared to you, I was nothing. At least I never thought of challenging the elder with a sword to take his place.”
Hyun Gong approached Namgung Myung, giving him a light pat on the shoulder.
“If you can do that to someone like your father, then… well, I admit it. You’ve won.”
It was only then that Namgung Myung realized the situation.
He had never shared his suspicions about his father, Namgung Jincheon, or his thoughts on the clan’s stance with his friends. It wasn’t exactly a topic one could easily bring up—it was a family secret, after all.
“Wait, no, that’s not it.”
As Namgung Myung took a step forward, the group instinctively stepped back.
The only one who didn’t retreat was Hyun Gong, who offered some advice.
“It seems like you want to explain yourself, but in my experience, the more you try to justify yourself in situations like this, the worse it gets.”
”···.”
It was an undeniable truth.
So Namgung Myung made a small decision. Instead of retreating defensively, sometimes you have to boldly push forward.
“Is there anything wrong with wanting to claim what’s mine a little sooner?”
The group’s expressions of shock deepened.
Just as martial artists create space with a wide swing of their swords, Namgung Myung used his powerful story to carve out a moment to explain himself.
Thanks to this, the group eventually understood Namgung Myung’s intentions, albeit belatedly.
“···So that’s how it is.”
“In the end, you want to set things right before the Namgung Clan goes astray?”
“Exactly.”
“But your reasoning is based on speculation. Maybe the clan just didn’t have enough resources to send more people.”
Namgung Myung disagreed with Tang Mujin’s point.
“It’s speculation, but it’s a strong one. And I don’t plan to act without verifying the facts. I’ll make sure to investigate thoroughly.”
“Whether your speculation is true or not is important, but the bigger issue is your approach. Even if you think it’s wrong, you should try to persuade your father. Who challenges their father to a duel?”
“My father never changes his mind once he’s decided on something. A few words won’t sway him.”
Tang Mujin recalled the first time he met Namgung Jincheon, who had slapped Namgung Myung so hard in front of him and Gwai that Myung had been sent sprawling.
As Namgung Myung said, Namgung Jincheon wasn’t someone who would change his stance with a few words.
Namgung Myung continued.
“The atmosphere in the Namgung Clan is different from other clans or sects. The weight of the elders’ orders is much heavier. But when they acknowledge someone, they do so completely. If I can defeat my father, he won’t interfere with my decisions.”
Hong Geolgae interjected, challenging Namgung Myung.
“But you can’t defeat your father with skill alone, so you’re planning to rely on external means?”
“Of course. External means are still a form of skill, just not enlightenment.”
With that, the conversation wrapped up, and the group fell into their own thoughts.
Yang and Yeom were particularly uneasy.
They weren’t sure if they should be privy to such discussions. Hearing the secrets of martial artists and prestigious families felt like a prelude to disaster.
Tang Mujin noticed their discomfort and reassured them.
“Don’t worry. Namgung Myung may be a bit odd, but he’s not the type to take innocent lives.”
As the two seemed to relax a bit, Hong Geolgae added a comment.
“At least, not yet.”
Their expressions darkened again, and Tang Mujin shot Hong Geolgae a disapproving look.
On the road from Kaifeng to Anhui, there were two major cities they could pass through: Wuchang or Hefei.
Naturally, they headed for Wuchang. It was a larger city than Hefei, and they assumed it would have the resources needed to forge Namgung Myung’s sword.
Even if Hefei had been larger, they likely would have chosen Wuchang. Tang Mujin had many fond memories tied to the city.
It was in Wuchang, around this time two years ago, that he had created the Rainstorm Needle and disrupted a martial arts tournament. It was also where he had met the Blood Rain Guest, Jang Il-nam.
As they strolled through Wuchang, reminiscing, they noticed a peculiar sight.
A crowd of young men and women, all armed, had gathered, and many of them looked quite young—some even seemed more like children.
In the autumn, there was only one reason for so many young martial artists to flock to Wuchang.
“···It looks like there’s a martial arts tournament happening, doesn’t it?”
“It does. But why is there a tournament? Aren’t they held every three years?”
Martial arts tournaments rotated annually between Chang’an, Luoyang, and Wuchang.
The last tournament in Wuchang was two years ago, so it wasn’t Wuchang’s turn this year.
Tang Mujin and his group looked around and spotted a registration desk.
It was obvious it was a registration desk. A scholarly-looking man sat behind a large table, and a sign behind him read, “No Hidden Weapons Allowed.”
‘No hidden weapons? The tournament rules must have changed.’
There were also some details written below the sign, like the prize money and items for the winners, and the rule that only martial artists under thirty could participate.
Of course, Tang Mujin wasn’t particularly interested in these details.
The group approached the man at the desk, not to register but to satisfy their curiosity.
Tang Mujin spoke on behalf of the group.
“Excuse me, could you tell us why the tournament is being held in Wuchang this year instead of Luoyang or Chang’an?”
The man, fiddling with his brush, replied.
“It was supposed to be Luoyang’s turn, but the situation in the north has been unstable, making it difficult to hold the tournament there. So, Wuchang’s turn came early.”
It seemed to be a consequence of the recent political upheaval.
Although the situation was stabilizing, it appeared the decision to hold the tournament in Wuchang had already been made.
As they were about to leave, having satisfied their curiosity, Tang Mujin noticed something strange.
The people gathered for the tournament were all staring at him with serious expressions.
Tang Mujin turned his head, feigning annoyance.
They weren’t cutting in line to register for the tournament. Was there a need to glare just because they asked a question?
But the murmuring among the crowd grew louder, and the atmosphere became more tense.
Soon, one of the people in line approached Tang Mujin.
He was a large, solidly built man, the kind who might grow as big as Sam Anbul if he got any bigger.
“Excuse me···.”
As the large man addressed Tang Mujin, the crowd fell silent.
“Hello. I’m Eon Baek-gon from the Jinju Eon family.”
“Oh, yes. Nice to meet you, Eon Daehyeop. Is there something you need?”
Eon Baek-gon stammered as he asked.
“Are you… the Dragon of Medicine… I mean, the head of the Tang family?”
Tang Mujin searched his memory but couldn’t recall meeting this man before. The name Eon Baek-gon was unfamiliar to him.
But the answer was clear.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“Ah···.”
The man who introduced himself as Eon Baek-gon sighed.
His gaze then shifted to Hong Geolgae, Hyun Gong, and Namgung Myung in turn.
It seemed he recognized who they were as well. Eon Baek-gon looked as if he was struggling to breathe.
And it wasn’t just Eon Baek-gon. Many of the martial artists gathered for the tournament had similar reactions.
Eon Baek-gon asked in a trembling voice.
“Could you tell us how old you all are?”
“I’m twenty-seven, as is Hong Geolgae. Namgung Myung is twenty-eight, and Hyun Gong here is twenty-nine.”
“Ah···.”
Eon Baek-gon closed his eyes tightly.
Then, quite a few martial artists threw something to the ground and turned away.
Tang Mujin picked up one of the items that had been discarded. It was a wooden plaque with personal details like origin, family, or sect, and name. It seemed participants had to submit these plaques to register for the tournament.
Realizing the situation, Tang Mujin quickly called out.
“Everyone! I think there’s been a misunderstanding. We’re not here to participate in the tournament.”
The people who had been leaving stopped in their tracks. Someone asked.
“Really?”
“Yes. We just happened to pass through Wuchang on our way to our destination. Please, don’t worry about us.”
The crowd quickly returned to their places, lining up once more. A few people who had thrown their wooden tokens were now scouring the ground to retrieve them.
As Tang Mujin and his companions swiftly moved away, the people finally breathed a sigh of relief.
Once they were a fair distance from the martial arts tournament registration area, Hong Geolge started teasing Tang Mujin with a chuckle.
“Are you sure you don’t want to enter the tournament? I was thinking about joining myself.”
It was clearly a joke, so Tang Mujin replied with a dismissive tone.
“Oh really? Then go back and sign up. I won’t stop you.”
“Come on. After what you said, how could I possibly go back and join? I couldn’t do that to you.”
Tang Mujin pondered. If Hong Geolge did go back and enter the tournament, who would look more foolish between the two of them? He figured it would most likely be Hong Geolge.
They found a modest inn that seemed affordable, and Tang Mujin secured a room for the group.
Despite his usual carefree attitude, Hong Geolge grumbled a bit about the state of the inn.
“What’s this? It’s a bit shabbier than usual.”
“If you don’t like it, you can sleep on the street.”
“I’m just kidding. This is more than enough.”
The reason Tang Mujin chose a cheaper inn was that his funds were running low. When he first left Sichuan, he had a decent amount of travel money, but the prolonged journey had nearly depleted his resources. He was even short on fare for the next leg of his trip.
Hong Geolge asked with a hint of worry in his voice, “We do have enough for food, right?”
“That depends on your behavior.”
After ordering a simple meal for his companions, Tang Mujin headed out to the streets of Wuchang.
‘There should be a blacksmith around here somewhere.’
He soon found the blacksmith’s shop, bustling with about ten people, including six or seven blacksmiths and a few apprentices.
As Tang Mujin entered the shop, a young apprentice blocked his way.
“Everything we have is outside. If you want to place an order, you can do so out there.”
“Please step aside. I have business inside.”
“I told you, you can’t go in.”
If an apprentice couldn’t stop a persistent customer, he’d be the one getting scolded.
While the young apprentice stubbornly blocked Tang Mujin’s path, one of the blacksmiths inside noticed him. The blacksmith quickly put down his tools and rushed over.
“Ah, it’s been a while! I’ve been hoping to see you again!”
The apprentice, bewildered, stepped aside, and Tang Mujin was ushered into the shop.
The blacksmith, grinning widely, asked excitedly, “What brings you here? Could it be…?”
Tang Mujin shared the news the blacksmith had been hoping for.
“I’m here to commission a sword.”
The blacksmith silently cheered, and Tang Mujin added, “This time, I want something truly exceptional. I plan to put my heart and soul into it.”
The blacksmith’s back instinctively straightened with pride. The middle-aged craftsman clenched his fist in excitement.
He shouted to the apprentice still at the entrance, “Close the door!”
“Uh, yes.”
As the apprentice closed the door, Tang Mujin sheepishly admitted, “Oh, by the way, I don’t have any money right now. Could I borrow some iron?”
“Borrow? Of course, I can provide that much!”
The blacksmith showed him some refined iron ingots, which looked to be of decent quality.
But Tang Mujin hesitated. Was it right to use such ordinary iron for a masterpiece he intended to create with great care?
No, to truly pour his heart into it, he needed materials that matched his ambition.
However, quality materials were expensive, and Tang Mujin was broke.
‘It’s not even a sword for me…’
Just as he was about to compromise, a thought struck him.
The martial arts tournament.
The prize money he had glimpsed on the sign at the registration desk.
And the old man he had met in Wuchang last time, who sold whale whiskers and tendons.
Tang Mujin turned to the blacksmith and said, “Please wait for a moment.”
He dashed back to the inn and asked Hong Geolge, “You said you wanted to enter the martial arts tournament, right?”