Naming a sword usually happens for one of two reasons: either its owner is a child, or the sword is of such exceptional quality that it deserves a name.
Namgung Myung’s sword was undoubtedly the latter.
Yet, despite its obvious worthiness, Namgung Myung found himself unable to decide on a name. So, he placed the sword prominently on the inn’s table and fell into deep thought.
As expected, Hyun Gong, who had come out for breakfast, was immediately drawn in.
“Is it finished?”
“Yes.”
“Mind if I take a look?”
Namgung Myung nodded with a smug air, clearly eager to show off.
As Hyun Gong picked up the sword, Seol Hwa appeared, rubbing her eyes, and quickly joined them at the table. New spectacles were always a delight.
Hyun Gong gripped the handle firmly. The sword slid out silently, the sensation of it leaving the scabbard barely perceptible.
Once the sword was fully drawn, Hyun Gong’s mouth fell open in awe.
He had never once regretted the sword crafted for him by Dang Moo-jin. But now, a twinge of envy crept in.
“Could something like this really be made?”
A deep-seated desire stirred within Hyun Gong.
He briefly entertained the thought of stealing the sword and making a run for it. But he quickly dismissed the idea.
Escaping Namgung Myung would be no easy feat, and there was always the hope that if he stayed in Dang Moo-jin’s good graces, he might one day receive such a sword himself.
Moreover, there was a faint moral objection to stealing from a friend.
“I should take better care of my sword from now on.”
In fact, Namgung Myung was a perfect example of what not to do. He had once stolen a sword made by Dang Moo-jin and had been paying the price ever since.
Namgung Myung noticed the glint of desire in Hyun Gong’s eyes.
It was a natural reaction, but with Hyun Gong, it could lead to unexpected outcomes.
When Namgung Myung reached out, Hyun Gong reluctantly returned the sword. Namgung Myung immediately sheathed it.
He asked with the air of someone who had crafted the sword himself, “So, what do you think? Be honest.”
“It’s a masterpiece. Almost too good for you.”
Seol Hwa reached out to touch the scabbard.
It was the most beautiful and exquisite sword she had ever seen. The subtle chill it exuded seemed to suit her perfectly.
After much deliberation, Seol Hwa offered her suggestion.
“Can I borrow it for just one day?”
Namgung Myung was firm. “No.”
Seol Hwa pouted briefly, then attempted to use her charms, turning her face this way and that. But having never practiced such tactics, her efforts were in vain.
Hyun Gong spoke again. “Why was the sword on the table? Just to show off?”
“No, I was trying to think of a name for it.”
A subtle plea for help.
But Hyun Gong had no intention of racking his brain for a name for someone else’s sword, so he replied nonchalantly.
“Think hard and come up with something fitting. As long as it captures the essence of the sword, it’ll be fine.”
“Nothing comes to mind?”
“Not really.”
Namgung Myung turned his gaze to Seol Hwa. Sometimes, even a child could offer a brilliant suggestion, and perhaps Seol Hwa, unfamiliar with the language of the martial world, might come up with something extraordinary.
“Any ideas?”
Seol Hwa focused more on the sword’s purpose than its characteristics.
“How about ‘Rebel Blade’?”
Namgung Myung decided there was no rush to name the sword.
With Namgung Hyun now part of the group, they set off from Wuchang towards Tianzhu Mountain in Anhui Province.
Though the Namgung Clan and Wuchang weren’t far apart, it was a journey of over ten days on foot for an ordinary person. The path was often fraught with danger from bandits.
“Think any bandits will show up?”
Namgung Myung was eager for a chance to draw his sword.
He wanted to slice through the cheap blades of bandits with his new sword, bought with a few silver coins at the blacksmith’s.
Hyun Gong scoffed. “No bandit would target us. If I were a bandit, I’d steer clear of our group.”
“Why? They might not know our skills and attack anyway.”
“Bandits aren’t fools. We’re wearing martial attire and carrying swords, but our baggage isn’t substantial. There’s no reason to attack us.”
It was a sound argument. Namgung Myung couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
As they traveled, they came across an elderly man ahead of them, the scent of dried herbs wafting from him—a clear sign of a physician.
Naturally, the sight of armed strangers would be alarming.
The old physician quickened his pace upon noticing them, clearly anxious. Concerned he might trip, Dang Moo-jin called out.
“Sir! No need to rush. We can travel together if our paths align.”
“No, no, I’m fine!”
“I’m a physician too, which is why I spoke up.”
“A physician?”
Dang Moo-jin partially unpacked his load, retrieving a few medicinal herbs, and tossed them to the old man.
The herbs flew through the air with precision, landing gently in the physician’s hands.
There were winter melon seeds, processed bitterwood bark, and even thinly sliced deer antler. Items only a physician would carry.
The old physician quickly relaxed. Few people were as harmless as physicians. He didn’t seem overly concerned about Dang Moo-jin’s sword.
The group approached the physician at a leisurely pace.
“Where are you headed?”
“I’m on my way to Wuhu. They say there’s a shortage of physicians there.”
Wuhu was even farther than Tianzhu Mountain, a journey of at least a week from their current location.
Physicians rarely traveled far unless it was for a house call to a nearby village. But judging by the old man’s belongings, it seemed he was moving permanently.
Yang, one of the physicians in the group, interjected.
“Was your previous village not a good place to live?”
“It wasn’t ideal. The people were rough, and there were too many sick and injured for me to handle.”
The mention of many sick people piqued the interest of Yang and Yeom, the other physician.
“Where were you originally?”
“A place called Suksong.”
Suksong was about four or five days’ journey from Tianzhu Mountain. A day or two’s travel back from their current location.
The old physician chatted with the group for a while before they parted ways before half a day had passed.
Yang and Yeom pondered for a while before approaching Dang Moo-jin in the evening.
“Master Dang.”
“Yes? Why so formal all of a sudden? Please, speak freely.”
Initially, the two physicians had been quite formal with Dang Moo-jin, but recently, they had become more casual in their interactions.
This was at Dang Moo-jin’s insistence. He wasn’t comfortable being addressed so formally by men old enough to be his father.
Yang looked a bit sheepish.
“We weren’t entirely comfortable either… Anyway, once the Namgung Clan business is settled, do you plan to return this way?”
“I’ll likely pass through this area.”
“In that case, would it be alright if Yeom and I stayed in Suksong for a while?”
“Is there a particular reason?”
Yeom took over the explanation.
“It doesn’t seem like the Namgung Clan matter will resolve peacefully, does it?”
“You’re right.”
Dang Moo-jin nodded. It was unlikely that Namgung Jincheon would step down quietly. At the very least, there would be some heated exchanges.
“Yeom and I don’t think we’ll be much help at the Namgung Clan. Being around so many powerful martial artists isn’t exactly comforting.”
It seemed they were uneasy about accompanying him to the Namgung Clan, especially with the high likelihood of conflict.
Yeom continued, “Given the situation, we thought it might be better to stay in Suksong. With so many sick people and the local physician gone, the villagers must be in a tough spot. Could you pick us up on your way back to the Tang Manor?”
There was no need for prolonged deliberation. Dang Moo-jin wasn’t in a position to insist they follow him, nor did he have any reason to.
“Of course. That sounds like a good plan.”
With Dang Moo-jin’s agreement, Yang and Yeom visibly brightened.
The next morning, Yang and Yeom parted ways with the group, heading back to Suksong.
Two days after parting with the physicians, Dang Moo-jin’s group arrived near Tianzhu Mountain.
Despite Namgung Myung’s claims that everyone in Anhui Province, especially near Tianzhu Mountain, would recognize him, not a single person did.
Hong Geolgae chuckled.
“See? I told you Namgung Myung was full of hot air.”
“No, it’s just been too long since I last visited Tianzhu Mountain.”
Namgoong Myung’s story had a certain persuasive power.
It had been about six or seven years since Namgoong Myung left Cheonju Mountain—a long enough time for faces to fade from memory. In that time, his appearance had changed considerably, so it would be more surprising if people recognized him immediately.
Yet, the fact remained that no one around seemed to recognize him, which only made Hong Geolgae respond with an even grander, more boisterous laugh.
The real attention-grabber, however, was not Namgoong Myung but Seolhwa.
Traders from the Western Regions occasionally visited Wuchang, but they had no reason to venture as far as Cheonju Mountain. Seeing a man from the Western Regions was rare enough, but a woman? That was almost unheard of.
However, the looks Seolhwa received were not particularly friendly. Many seemed to regard her as a ghost or something equally otherworldly, with quite a few people startled enough to hide.
This left Seolhwa feeling rather disgruntled.
Finally, the group arrived at the Namgoong family estate.
”···.”
Each member of the group reacted differently. Hyeon Gong was visiting the Namgoong estate for the first time, while Hong Geolgae and Dang Mujin simply thought it had been a long time since their last visit.
Namgoong Myung’s expression, however, was a complex mix of emotions, and Namgoong Hyun couldn’t hide his fear. Nearly a month had passed since the martial arts tournament, and the results must have spread throughout the Namgoong family by now.
Namgoong Hyun was anxious about how his family would perceive him.
Regardless, Namgoong Myung continued walking straight to the main gate without hesitation.
The two guards at the gate initially moved to stop him but then hesitated and stepped back.
“Is it you, sir?”
“Yes, it is.”
Namgoong Myung’s tone was unusually haughty, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. While his friends, including Dang Mujin, found this change strange and awkward, the guards and Namgoong Hyun seemed to find it natural.
The gates of the Namgoong estate swung open.
As the group entered, Seolhwa’s shimmering golden hair once again drew all eyes. Soon, the attention shifted from her to Namgoong Myung.
Without exception, everyone stared wide-eyed at the group.
Yet, no one dared to approach Namgoong Myung or strike up a conversation.
In the world of martial artists, one’s worth is proven through achievements, and Namgoong Myung’s accomplishments were beyond the reach of anyone present.
The once slightly immature Namgoong Myung, who had shown great promise, was nowhere to be found.
It wasn’t just Namgoong Myung who had changed. Hong Geolgae was no less impressive, and Dang Mujin and Hyeon Gong had clearly reached high levels of mastery. Even Seolhwa’s skills were not to be underestimated. The rumors about Namgoong Myung that had occasionally reached the Namgoong estate were not exaggerated in the slightest.
The proud martial artists of the Namgoong family shrank back in the presence of Namgoong Myung and his companions. Most didn’t even notice Namgoong Hyun standing behind him.
Namgoong Myung slowly surveyed his surroundings before walking directly toward the largest building in front of him—the family head’s hall.
As he approached, the doors swung open, revealing a familiar figure: Namgoong Jincheon.
Namgoong Myung stopped about seven or eight steps away from Namgoong Jincheon.
In a way, it was simply a moment of a son who had wandered far and wide returning home to meet his father.
Yet, many held their breath, sensing that something significant was about to unfold.
The family head’s hall was built on slightly elevated ground, so Namgoong Jincheon naturally looked down at his son, while Namgoong Myung looked up at him.
Namgoong Myung offered a respectful bow.
“Father, I’ve returned.”
“Yes, it’s been a while. Welcome back.”
At first glance, it seemed like an ordinary exchange.
But to the people of the Namgoong family, this was a peculiar moment.
As far as they knew, Namgoong Myung had never called Namgoong Jincheon “Father” in public, always addressing him as “Family Head.”
Was this, despite the public gaze, a private moment between father and son?
Namgoong Jincheon pondered the same question.
“Why aren’t you calling me ‘Family Head’?”
“Why do you think?”
Instead of answering, Namgoong Jincheon paused in thought.
Then, a broad smile spread across his face. The people of the Namgoong family had never seen him smile so brightly.
Slowly, Namgoong Jincheon spoke again.
“Yes, truly, welcome back. My son.”