Chapter Title: Inheritance of the Point Cang Sword
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Silence.
The match had ended so simply, so emptily, that its conclusion was marked by a dead stillness, quiet as a slain rat.
No murmurs, not even the faintest whisper—only a suffocating feast of silence.
But in this moment, everyone gathered here shared a single emotion.
'How?!'
'Where did he get such a swift sword?!'
Astonishment.
Not just any astonishment, but one so overwhelming it left mouths agape, speechless.
"D-D-Demon…!"
The one struck hardest by it was, naturally, Tong-ryeol himself.
"Impossible! This can't be real!"
With a bellow, his left hand shot up in a brutish swipe toward the Narrow Tip Sword hovering at his throat.
No, he tried to—but it was nothing more than a futile swing through empty air.
Gwang-il, wary of drawing even a drop of blood from his senior uncle's body, had withdrawn his blade a step ahead.
"Y-You bastard!"
Enraged further by that composed demeanor, Tong-ryeol gripped his sword tightly once more and unleashed a thunderous roar.
"You scum! Trying to fool me with some cheap trick?!"
"…"
"Daring to pull that filthy nonsense right in the heart of Point Cang?!"
"What did you just say?"
"?!"
In an instant, the atmosphere flipped entirely.
Gwang-il's presence, calm as a still lake moments before, surged into a colossal tidal wave, looming directly over Tong-ryeol's head.
"Did you just call Point Cang's swordsmanship 'cheap' and 'filthy'?"
"Y-You punk?! Where do you get off staring at me like th-that?!"
"Answer me, Senior Uncle. If that's truly what you think, I'll hold you accountable right here for insulting our perished ancestors and the founding patriarchs—execute you on the spot."
"Wh-What?!"
Perished ancestors?!
And why were the founding patriarchs suddenly dragged into this?!
Tong-ryeol stood dumbfounded, sputtering incoherently for a moment.
But he quickly regained his wits, biting his lower lip hard as he bellowed even louder, his voice echoing off the walls.
"You filthy cur! How dare a third-generation disciple like you spout lies about the founding patriarchs?!"
"…How dare you."
Whoosh!
Unable to contain the boiling fury any longer, Gwang-il's tidal wave of presence crashed mercilessly down upon Tong-ryeol's entire body.
"H-Hurk!"
Thud!
Clang!
In that instant, a vivid illusion flashed before Tong-ryeol's eyes.
His own body pierced by something sharp, exploding in a spray of blood—the hyper-real vision wrenched the sword from his grasp and buckled his legs beneath him.
"U-Ughhh!"
But that utterly powerless sight only poured hotter oil onto the flames of Gwang-il's rising anger.
'What a pathetic display!'
A Point Cang swordmaster crumbling under his opponent's pressure, dropping his own sword and falling flat on his ass?
Was this the harsh reality staring him in the face? His vision spun for a moment.
'Can I really… protect Point Cang like this?'
If second-generation disciples were this feeble-minded, there was no need to even look at the third-generation ones.
A profound despair drowned out even his anger, and Gwang-il unwittingly reined in his presence.
"Grk… grrrk!"
Thump.
Tong-ryeol's mind, tossed about like a shipwreck in that tidal wave, shattered completely as expected.
It was the moment everything fell into irreparable ruin in a single breath.
As Gwang-il looked to the heavens and let out a long, frustrated sigh—
"Say it again. What did you say about the founding patriarch?"
"…"
One of the elders from Elder Gwan's faction stepped forward, unable to contain his curiosity.
It was Gwan-ho, Point Cang's current sword hero and a transcendent master.
"I'll ask you. What did you mean by that nonsense you just spouted?"
As one of the elders—and a man with immense pride in the name of Point Cang—he couldn't hold back his question.
"This disciple Gwang-il greets Elder Gwan-ho…"
"Cut the formalities and answer straight. If you can't give a proper response, I won't forgive you."
"…"
"There are things one can say and things one cannot. How dare a mere third-generation disciple invoke the founding patriarchs?"
Gwan-ho's reason for stepping in was clear to anyone.
He showed no interest whatsoever in Tong-ryeol's humiliation as a second-generation disciple—only outrage that the founding patriarchs had been mentioned at all.
'…What now?'
Even for Gwang-il, this was an unexpectedly early public confession.
But he had to make a judgment right away.
A swift decision, at that.
'No taking back words already spoken.'
Wouldn't it be better to leverage the founding patriarchs' authority to push his intentions through? It would help with his future plans.
Staying silent now would only land him unnecessary punishment.
'No choice.'
His deliberation ended in an instant, followed by a swift resolution.
"During my training in the Sealed Meditation Cave, this disciple encountered fortune and inherited the founding patriarchs' martial arts and insights."
"What?!"
"!!!"
"What did you say?!"
Murmurs!
Chaos!
His bombshell declaration turned the dry swallows of shock into outright pandemonium.
"This Point Cang Sword is the proof. How could a disciple secluded in the cave obtain such a divine relic otherwise?"
"Point Cang Sword?"
"The Point Cang Sword…?!"
Murmurs!
A massive uproar dwarfing anything before.
It was inevitable.
The founding patriarchs' martial arts and their divine weapon?
Even a mid-tier sect would erupt in chaos over this.
And this was one of the Nine Great Sects, the Great Point Cang Sword Sect!
"No way…!"
Gwan-ho, who had stepped forward to sternly rebuke the young disciple's insolence, was no exception.
Even his fierce eyes, usually blazing like an angry tiger's, trembled uncontrollably.
Considering his normally stone-like composure, it was proof of the massive turmoil within.
Yet he quickly revealed his cool-headed nature, clinging to that last thread of reason.
"I don't entirely disbelieve you. But it's hard to accept everything at face value."
"I understand completely."
His calm voice flowed steadily from a face that remained utterly composed despite the heavy pressure.
'This child… what is he?'
Gwan-ho, assuming that confidence stemmed from the fortune, felt a thin frost of sternness creep across his features.
'A mere first-rate breaking through to transcendent in one go?'
No matter the fortune from the founding patriarchs.
It was impossible to accept easily.
He'd believe it without question if it were merely peak realm…
'But transcendent is a realm one can never reach without matching enlightenment, no matter the fortune.'
How could anyone swallow this story?
Even with texts recording Fire Essence enlightenment and millennium elixirs prepared.
If the recipient lacked the foundation, it'd be like stringing pearls around a pig's neck.
That rising doubt in his heart morphed into outright distrust toward the third-generation disciple before him.
'This punk. He's hiding something.'
His suspicious glare poured out openly, without attempt to conceal it.
Gwang-il could only muster a wry smile under that piercing gaze.
'Elder Gwan-ho is indeed different. Won't be easy to fool.'
Of course, he wasn't without countermeasures.
Martial artists spoke through martial arts.
When intentions clashed or demands arose, one proved it with their own skills, right?
Of course.
'…I've lived too long in the evil paths.'
In orthodox sects that prized hierarchy and rank over individual achievement, such premises were unthinkable.
'So? What to do?'
As Gwang-il shoved aside that un-orthodox thought and racked his brain—
Shing.
"…?"
Something unexpected unfolded before him.
Gwan-ho drew the sword from his waist, emanating a chilling presence.
"I've long sensed your attainment surpasses mine. I still can't believe it, and I have many questions."
"…"
"Yet this boiling, unseemly impatience won't let me rest."
He slowly turned to Sect Leader Gwan-hae, offered a respectful fist salute, and slowly voiced his request.
"If the Sect Leader permits, this junior wishes to draw out Gwang-il's full potential. I beg you—do not refuse this reckless, sword-maddened junior's plea."
"Hahaha! If you're asking for trouble, why would I stop you? Do as you wish."
"My thanks for the Sect Leader's magnanimity."
"I trust you'll handle it well."
An implicit warning: draw out Gwang-il's hidden power fully, but take utmost care to avoid any irreparable disaster.
Gwan-ho understood instantly, nodding heavily without retort.
He then assumed a frosty sword stance without hesitation.
"I'll treat you as an arch-rival of equal standing in this spar. Thus, you must give your all as well."
"…I'll do my best, Grand Senior Uncle."
'This is going smoother than expected.'
It was exactly what Gwang-il wanted.
Had Gwan-ho used rank and hierarchy to seize moral high ground and attack, he'd be in a real bind right now.
But for him to step up first and lay out such an easy stage?
'Then, I should show efforts befitting it.'
Not just to win here.
Rather, the first step in imparting his enlightenment to this grand senior uncle, who would play a key role in the future war against the Beast Palace.
A sincere hope that it might aid, even slightly, in breaching the Fire Essence wall.
Thus, as Gwang-il brought the base of the Point Cang Sword's hilt to his navel and lowered his stance, his face filled with a seriousness unseen before.
In stark contrast to Gwan-ho, who radiated a frigid northern gale, Gwang-il stood utterly still, not leaking even a shred of presence.
The two finally clashed properly only after considerable time had passed, facing each other.
Boom!
"Kuh!"
"…"
A sharp explosion burst in the empty air between them without warning.
Unlike Gwan-ho, who let out a rough grunt with his beard whipping, Gwang-il advanced another step in perfect silence.
Swish.
"What?!"
A mere single step.
Yet from that short stride, barely half a jang, a sequence erupted in lightning speed.
Boom!
"Guhk!"
Stagger!
Before he could steady himself, a piercing thrust stabbed in again.
Completely losing his balance, Gwan-ho ground his teeth and thrust forward with his rear foot.
"Kahat!"
Screeech!
A cleaving slash utterly unlike Gwang-il's earlier ray-of-light thrust.
Gwang-il's brow furrowed naturally at the sight.
'Even Grand Senior Uncle Gwan-ho!'
If his memory served, Gwan-ho was one of Point Cang's top three sword heroes!
For even him to eschew Point Cang's supreme weapon and opt for a slash!
'I cannot allow this!'
Goblin-fire blazed in his eyes, matched by another short step forward.
"H-How?!"
It was enough.
Sacrificing a few strands of hair to the diagonal slash, he perfectly subdued the opponent's deadliest vital point.
Tap.
"This disciple wins. Elder."
"…"
Just like with Tong-ryeol, Gwan-ho yielded his throat in a disarmingly short time.
Thick beads of sweat formed on his wrinkled forehead as his face shifted from shock to uncontainable awe.