Episode 34: Namgung Myung

“Unbelievable.”

There was no need to investigate who had stolen the sword.

To not suspect Namgung Myung, there should have been at least a few days between the day he asked if the sword was for sale and the day he disappeared.

Hong Geolgae offered a simple observation.

“Guess you looked like an easy mark.”

“No, it’s not that I looked like a pushover. Namgung Myung must have lost his mind. Who in their right mind would pull a stunt like that, knowing they’d get caught?”

“So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I’ll have to go get it back.”

“Think you can?”

The straightforward question left Dang Moojin momentarily speechless.

Logically, going after Namgung Myung wasn’t a wise choice. The Namgung family was too powerful for him to confront, and he could craft a sword just as good, if not better.

Even if Namgung Myung had blatantly stolen the sword, there was no way he’d return it just because he was asked.

Yet, the thought of giving up never crossed his mind. It wasn’t a complex reason—it was simply unfair.

At that moment, Gwai, who had been in the cabin, came out and sat next to Dang Moojin.

Given Gwai’s usual personality, Dang Moojin expected some teasing, but Gwai surprised him with unexpected advice.

“Whether it works out or not, give it a shot. In the martial world, it’s better to be a mad dog than a pushover.”

“Sir, I know a thing or two about being broke. Mad dogs get beaten to death.”

“A man who bows without even trying is as good as dead, even if he’s breathing. You might lose and get robbed if you’re weak, but accepting humiliation becomes a habit.”

Gwai’s words struck a chord with Dang Moojin, clearing the doubts clouding his heart. He stood up abruptly.

“You’re right. Whether it works or not, I have to try. The problem is, how do I find Namgung Myung?”

“Obviously, you head to the Namgung family. By now, Namgung Myung is probably racing back home.”

“Where exactly is the Namgung family? Is it on the way to Luoyang?”

“No, it’s a bit out of the way. The Namgung family is in Anhui Province.”

Dang Moojin studied Gwai’s expression.

Going to the Namgung family meant deviating significantly from the path to Luoyang, but Gwai didn’t seem to mind.

“Assuming we’re heading to Anhui, what’s the best way to get there?”

“The fastest would be to disembark and ride a horse. But since neither you nor Hong Geolgae can ride, it’s best to take the boat to Anhui and then travel by land.”

This meant staying on the boat longer than planned.

However, Dang Moojin wasn’t worried about the fare. He had been tending to the crew’s ailments, so if anything, he might get paid rather than having to pay more.

“But what was Namgung Myung thinking when he did this?”

“Thinking? He probably doesn’t even realize he did anything wrong.”

“How does that make sense?”

“Don’t assume the mindset of those from powerful sects is the same as ordinary people. Especially someone like Namgung Myung, who knows nothing of the world. To them, their sect is the entire world.”

Namgung Myung rode his horse with glee.

With each hoofbeat, the sword in his pack jostled. Normally, the sensation would have been annoying, but now it was simply delightful.

Not long ago, Namgung Myung had dreaded the end of his journey in the martial world, fearing the judgment of his father and the elders.

But now, everything had changed. He couldn’t wait to return home and show them the sword.

Initially, he felt guilty for taking someone else’s possession.

However, after days of riding and reflecting, he concluded that this was beneficial for everyone involved. For Namgung Myung, the Namgung family, and even Dang Moojin, who lost the sword.

After all, an item should be in the hands of someone who can truly appreciate it.

Leaving a masterpiece in the hands of a mere physician rather than a true martial artist would make the sword’s creator weep in his grave.

Dang Moojin might be upset about losing the sword now, but an item beyond one’s control only brings trouble.

Fortunately, it was a righteous hero like himself who found it first. Imagine if it had fallen into the hands of a notorious villain.

The villain would have undoubtedly slaughtered Dang Moojin and his companions to seize the sword.

By taking the sword before it caught the villain’s eye, Namgung Myung had essentially saved the lives of Dang Moojin and his friends.

“Isn’t this what they call a blessing in disguise?”

Worse scenarios could have unfolded.

What if a powerful villain wielded this sword and killed a renowned hero? Not only would the hero suffer, but so would all the people he could have saved in the future.

And if a bloody battle erupted over the sword? The resulting carnage would be unspeakable.

But thanks to Namgung Myung’s bold decision, these dreadful possibilities vanished. The sword was now in the hands of the Namgung family, who prided themselves as the leaders of the Five Great Families.

“This wasn’t done out of selfish desire.”

Namgung Myung felt like an unsung hero, a shadowy knight working behind the scenes.

Though his hands were dirty now, countless lives that might have been lost to a villain were saved because of him. And those people would never know they had been at the brink of death.

Time flies when you’re having fun. The journey to the Namgung family, filled with such musings, passed in a flash.

“Welcome back.”

“Yes.”

The guards at the Namgung family’s gate nodded at Namgung Myung. Their attitude was somewhat disrespectful for the heir of the family, but Namgung Myung didn’t find it odd.

He hurried to the main hall of the Namgung family, known as Deungnyonggak. As he approached, a martial artist at the entrance stopped him.

“You can’t enter right now. There’s a meeting in progress.”

“Understood.”

Namgung Myung waited outside Deungnyonggak without even unpacking. After some time, the elders of the family began to emerge—guardians, elders, and various heads.

Once a significant number had exited, Namgung Myung entered Deungnyonggak.

The first person he saw was his father, Namgung Jincheon. A few elders who hadn’t left yet were also present.

Namgung Myung bowed deeply to his father.

“Father, I’ve returned.”

“Good. Rest now.”

As always, his father’s response was brief.

Normally, Namgung Myung would have been relieved and hurried off, but not today.

“Please wait a moment. I have something to show you.”

“What is it?”

“A sword. You’ll be amazed.”

Namgung Myung placed two swords wrapped in cloth on the table.

He first unwrapped the Sam Bong Sword, revealing its severely damaged state.

Without hesitation, Namgung Jincheon raised his right hand and slapped Namgung Myung across the face.

Smack—thud.

Namgung Myung tumbled across the floor of Deungnyonggak. It was a dramatic scene, but no one was surprised.

Not Namgung Jincheon, not the remaining elders, and not even Namgung Myung himself.

“You’ve certainly brought back a surprising sword. I distinctly remember telling you to take good care of the Sam Bong Sword. Have you already forgotten?”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“Good. Chief Geum! Fetch the whip.”

Namgung Myung was used to slaps, but he had no intention of being whipped. He quickly waved his hands before the chief could leave.

“No, please. Once you see this, you’ll change your mind.”

Namgung Myung unwrapped Dang Moojin’s sword.

The scabbard and hilt were unremarkable compared to the Sam Bong Sword. Namgung Jincheon’s brow furrowed.

Before his father’s hand could rise again, Namgung Myung continued his explanation.

“It’s not what it seems. Just look.”

Namgung Myung drew the sword from its scabbard. The blade was as unassuming as the scabbard.

There was no dark sheen of black iron, no clear ash tint of cloud iron, nor the cold aura of ten-thousand-year-old cold iron.

But Namgung Jincheon, known as the Sword Demon, sensed something different about this sword.

He picked up the plain sword and examined the blade.

Ordinary blacksmiths would make a blade thin and sharp if asked to forge a sword.

But those called master swordsmiths endlessly ponder the perfect angle for a blade that is both sharp and durable.

The possible angles for a blade are infinite. Thus, Namgung Jincheon believed a perfect blade couldn’t exist—at least until now.

“This is… different.”

Perfect. Or as close to perfect as a human-made sword could be.

Could it be the result of a fortunate accident? Perhaps. Extremes and infinity rarely allow humans into their domain.

Namgung Jincheon tapped the sword against the table. Being a wooden table, it made no sound, but the vibrations were felt through his fingertips.

Through the vibrations, he sensed a flawless, uniform state.

“Hmm.”

Namgung Jincheon sat back down. This sword was not something to be dismissed lightly.

“This sword might not be the result of mere chance.”

Though he had never forged a sword, Namgung Jincheon had wielded them all his life.

That’s why he earned the nickname Sword Demon. He knew more about swords than most blacksmiths.

This sword wasn’t forged from the finest materials. It was made from scrap metal, the kind you’d use for farming tools or perhaps a decorative blade for a lady.

Such a sword would never find its way into the hands of a warrior from the Namgung family, who prided themselves on being the foremost swordsmiths in the land.

But if a sword crafted from such humble materials could surpass the finest blades of the White Lotus Sect, the story changes.

Namgung Jincheon swung the sword through the air.

Perfect balance. The blade flexed with a gentle resilience, yet remained stable.

He placed the edge against the corner of a table and pushed lightly. The table’s edge sliced cleanly away.

A masterpiece born from inferior materials and craftsmanship that far exceeded Namgung Jincheon’s expectations.

His only question was why a craftsman of such skill would choose to work with such base metal.

A memory suddenly surfaced.

‘Mandala.’

Namgung Jincheon recalled the monks he had seen in Tibet during his youth.

These monks would spend days creating intricate mandalas with colored sand, depicting countless Buddhas whose names he never knew.

Yet, once the grand mandala was complete, the monks would destroy it with their own hands.

They would gather the sand and release it into the river, a reminder of life’s impermanence and a testament to their spiritual discipline.

Namgung Jincheon thought this sword was like a mandala.

‘Perhaps there was a blacksmith seeking enlightenment at the forge.’

An exquisite mandala made of mere sand.

An unparalleled sword crafted from mere scrap.

Like the monks’ mandala, this sword might have been created for the sake of spiritual practice.

Only, unlike the mandala, it found its way into Namgung Jincheon’s hands before it could be scattered.

Namgung Jincheon gripped the unassuming sword and looked at the Sambeong Sword.

In a flash, he swung the sword. The Sambeong Sword, which had shown its flaws, split in two.

“Master!”

The elders cried out in shock. None among them were unfamiliar with the Sambeong Sword.

But soon, their eyes were drawn to the plain sword in Namgung Jincheon’s hand, its blade unscathed.

Namgung Jincheon placed the sword on the platform and looked at Namgung Myeong.

“You’ve brought a divine sword into the Namgung family. Where did you find it?”

Of course, Namgung Myeong couldn’t very well say, ‘I swiped it from a doctor I met on a ship.’

Instead, he leaned on the image he had dreamed of when he set out into the martial world.

“I saved someone in danger, and they gave me this sword, saying it was a family heirloom.”

“A fortunate encounter.”

At Namgung Jincheon’s gesture, the steward approached and bowed.

“You called for me, sir.”

“Since he has performed a noble deed and encountered good fortune, we must commemorate the day. Prepare a feast to last ten days.”

“As you command.”

Namgung Myeong could hardly believe the situation. He was used to receiving slaps from his father, but he couldn’t recall ever being praised.

And now, a feast in his honor? It was unbelievable.

With a heart full of excitement, Namgung Myeong left the hall. Today, the world seemed beautiful.

When Tang Mujin and his companions arrived near the Namgung estate, they sensed an unusual atmosphere.

The entire village was abuzz, and martial artists were everywhere.

Gwi quickly understood the situation.

“They’re holding a feast.”

“A feast?”

“His first venture into the martial world was successful, so they’re celebrating. The village is lively, and martial artists are gathering from all over. Namgung Myeong must be the son of the head of the family, Namgung Jincheon.”

At that moment, Hong Geolgae, with a face full of anticipation, chimed in.

“I think I’ll go find something to eat. Call me if you need anything.”

Recently, Hong Geolgae hadn’t been able to beg while traveling with Tang Mujin.

Even while enjoying good food, he seemed uneasy, and now he seized the opportunity to roam freely.

Suddenly, Hong Geolgae disappeared, leaving only Gwi and Tang Mujin.

Tang Mujin pondered deeply. How could he enter the Namgung estate and retrieve the sword?

But Tang Mujin was the only one worrying. Gwi confidently headed toward the Namgung estate.

“What are you planning? Do you have a plan?”

“Judging by the village’s mood, the feast is winding down. Figure out what to do once you’re inside.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to wait until the feast is over? We might make enemies if we disrupt the celebration.”

“Namgung Jincheon is one of the Six Masters, a supreme martial artist. If you say the wrong thing in a secluded place, you might lose your head without anyone knowing. It’s better to speak where there are many people.”

Given Gwi’s history of causing trouble, his words carried weight.

However, there was something puzzling about Gwi’s reasoning.

“He’s the head of the renowned Namgung family. Would he really kill someone just because he doesn’t like them?”

“I’ve never had a deep conversation with Namgung Jincheon, so I don’t know his nature. But assuming a man famous for his swordsmanship is a saint is foolish.”

Before they knew it, Tang Mujin and Gwi stood before the gates of the Namgung estate.

The two guards approached Gwi and Tang Mujin.

“You seem to be martial artists. May I have your names?”

“Tell them Doctor Lee Chung and Doctor Tang Mujin are here to retrieve a lost sword.”

Gwi chose to confront the situation head-on.