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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Taking Up the Sword (2)
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Neung Ryeo-un hadn't expected Cheon Muryang to go this far, but that's why he had no choice but to grip his sword.
"You must keep your promise."
"Yeah."
It had come to this; there was no helping it.
He'd said he wouldn't make an issue of the incident if he won, so all he had to do was win.
"..."
The standoff between the two stretched on.
Rain continued to pour over the empty training ground.
Shwaaa!
The drizzle that had started as a misty shower had thickened into a heavy downpour.
Enduring the relentless sheets of rain, Cheon Muryang stood without the slightest waver.
"Urgh...!"
He was clearly a pathetic playboy young master.
Yet Neung Ryeo-un couldn't move rashly.
'What is this inexplicable presence?!'
His instincts screamed a warning.
Don't underestimate him.
It was the kind of instinct that only kicked in against a true powerhouse.
"Why? Scared?"
"Th-this!"
"If you're not coming, I'll go to you."
"...!"
The Heavenly Light Sword moved.
A simple swing—a horizontal slash from left to right. Nothing more.
'As expected!'
It wasn't something he couldn't block.
Neung Ryeo-un ignored his instincts.
How feeble was this strike?
Swoosh!
Neung Ryeo-un's sword moved late, but it far outpaced Cheon Muryang's in speed, so it wasn't too late.
Clang!
The two blades met in midair.
Neung Ryeo-un figured he had the edge in raw power.
"...!"
Thud.
But it was a delusion.
The recoil shoved Neung Ryeo-un back, and he lost his grip on the sword.
A fatal blunder.
Whoosh!
Clink!
The vibrating Heavenly Light Sword pressed against Neung Ryeo-un's throat.
Drip!
A gash opened on his neck.
Blood trickled from it.
Neung Ryeo-un couldn't budge an inch.
'I could have died in one strike.'
Gazing into Cheon Muryang's coldly sunken eyes sent a shiver down his spine.
'When did he get this strong?'
He couldn't believe it.
How could that playboy young master have grown this powerful?
To the dazed Neung Ryeo-un, frozen mid-stance, came Cheon Muryang's icy voice.
"Is that how they taught you in the Cheon Clan?"
"...!"
"I said it was a life-or-death duel. And yet you swung so carelessly at your opponent?"
"Ugh!"
"Pathetic. You're not worthy to wield this sword."
Cheon Muryang withdrew his blade.
He then picked up Neung Ryeo-un's sword from the mud.
"Figure out why you must wield a sword. Once you find that reason, come find me again."
"...!"
"Then I'll duel you properly with it."
Why was that?
Even under Cheon Muryang's stern reprimand, Neung Ryeo-un couldn't muster a single retort.
"I-I...!"
Cheon Muryang regarded the speechless Neung Ryeo-un with cold eyes, then turned away.
"Wol Yeong."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Let's head back."
"Yes."
Was it because his mood had soured?
Cheon Muryang left the training ground.
Glance.
Right before departing, his gaze flicked somewhere.
But no one caught it.
Step, step.
Staring at his retreating figure, Neung Ryeo-un nearly called out.
"W-Wait...!"
Halt.
Cheon Muryang's steps stopped.
"Something to say?"
"...!"
Neung Ryeo-un fell silent.
Those eyes—sunken deep as an abyss—held him back.
'In a real fight...'
He'd been cut down.
He was already a corpse.
"Nothing? Then I'm gone."
Thud.
What could he say?
Neung Ryeo-un couldn't stop him.
Cheon Muryang departed.
Left alone, Neung Ryeo-un turned inward.
'Why did I pick up the sword?'
The question gnawed at him.
A fundamental one: why wield it at all?
To find the answer, he relentlessly questioned himself.
Shwaaa!
The downpour raged on.
In its midst, Neung Ryeo-un stood rooted.
'No, what did I even want to prove?'
Neung Ryeo-un despised Cheon Muryang.
Yet over the past month, he'd clearly shed his playboy skin.
'Did I always want him stuck as a wastrel?'
Maybe.
Mocking him always made Neung Ryeo-un feel superior, like he'd amounted to something.
'What the hell have I been doing?'
He didn't move from the rain.
"..."
That was when it happened.
The gaze observing Cheon Muryang's departure and Neung Ryeo-un's solitude shifted.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Wol Yeong swiftly blocked Cheon Muryang's path and bowed deeply.
"S-Sorry, Young Master. I shouldn't have butted in... Seeing them mock your hard work made me snap. It wasn't like me at all. I'm so sorry."
It truly wasn't like her.
In Cheon Muryang's memories, she was always the picture of calm composure.
But he didn't mind.
She'd acted purely for his sake.
"No need to apologize."
"Huh?"
"You stepped up for me, didn't you?"
"Ah..."
"Remember what I said?"
Wol Yeong vividly recalled his words.
『I'll endure insults aimed at me. But I won't stand for insults to those who serve me.』
Her face flushed hot.
"Exactly as I said."
"..."
"I won't tolerate anyone insulting my people—no matter who."
Wol Yeong bowed her head.
Hidden in the rain, perhaps.
Tears pricked her eyes.
"Young Master..."
Wol Yeong never believed Cheon Muryang had changed.
'You've come back.'
He'd simply returned to the man from her past memories.
The swell of emotion faded quickly as a heavy pressure emanated from nearby.
"Can you take responsibility for those words?"
Wol Yeong's heart plummeted.
Snap!
Her head whipped around like lightning.
But Cheon Muryang had already turned fully toward the voice's source.
"Yes, Uncle."
Cheon Seon-hak.
Cheon Muryang's uncle—the Total Commander of the Heavenly Dragon Sword Squad and Heavenly Peak Sword Squad. One of the Cheon Clan's three pillars.
The martial artist Nameless had trusted most in his past life.
'Didn't expect to cross paths like this, Commander.'
Even with a once-in-a-generation wastrel like Cheon Muryang as heir, the clan's prestige endured largely thanks to him.
Cheon Muryang felt a deep surge of gratitude.
Cheon Seon-hak, however, did not.
"Uncle..."
Cheon Muryang offered proper respects.
Cheon Seon-hak refused them.
"Never thought you'd bother with decorum."
A chill radiated from him.
Natural enough—Cheon Seon-hak saw no hope of redemption in the wastrel.
'That's why Young Master Cheon Muryang feared Commander Cheon Seon-hak most.'
Even playboys could only strut before their inferiors.
Against superior might and status? Useless.
'Strong to the weak, weak to the strong.'
Cheon Muryang silently cursed his past self.
What choice did he have?
It was fact.
"I've been too ignorant to visit you properly, Uncle."
Cheon Seon-hak occasionally oversaw the Heavenly Dragon Sword Squad, Heavenly Peak Sword Squad—even trainee drills.
He'd show up now and then at the training ground where Cheon Muryang ran daily laps.
"Heard you've been running laps there without fail for a month."
In that month, they'd ignored each other.
This encounter was a surprise.
"Yes. That's correct."
"What sparked this?"
"Just fulfilling my duty as the Cheon Clan's Eldest Young Master."
"Hilarious. You, preaching duty."
A storm-like aura erupted from Cheon Seon-hak.
He seemed poised to draw his waist-mounted sword any second.
"Out with it. What's your game?"
"...I've already said."
Cheon Muryang's body trembled.
His training couldn't yet counter that pressure.
But his eyes held firm.
'Commander Cheon Seon-hak is the real deal. No room for empty flattery.'
Words wouldn't sway him.
"..."
"I don't trust you."
Cheon Seon-hak's distrust ran deeper than imaginable.
So he turned not to Cheon Muryang,
but to his maid.
"Your name?"
"W-Wol Yeong."
"Very well. You explain his scheme. No lies."
Whooo!
He hadn't drawn his sword.
But the aura alone could cleave flesh.
"I really don't want to draw it."
A stark warning.
Shiver.
Wol Yeong's frail frame quaked.
Lips paling blue in seconds.
No mere maid could withstand it.
An absolute's pressure—worlds beyond Neung Ryeo-un's.
Grit!
Cheon Muryang moved to intervene anyway.
Then—
"Th-the Young Master... smiled the whole past month."
"Smiled?"
"Yes. Every lap around the training ground, he was smiling."
"..."
Glance.
Cheon Seon-hak's eyes flicked to Cheon Muryang briefly.
'Tch. Was I?'
He'd smiled without realizing.
'Truth is, it was that grueling. Smile through the pain.'
The old Patriarch's lesson, followed even post-rebirth.
Wol Yeong pressed on.
"Even with jeers from onlookers, he ignored them. The old Young Master would've raged or bolted... Sorry. Left the grounds."
Cheon Muryang shrugged it off with a casual wave.
Flinch!
Cheon Seon-hak's aura clamped harder—a warning against recklessness.
"But he never snapped or... sorry. Fled. He even drew a sword—for my sake, the first time."
The pressure lingered.
Yet Wol Yeong sensed it easing, somehow.
"I believe in him."
"Believe..."
Not a hint of deceit.
Cheon Seon-hak knew, and held his tongue.
Silence broken, he addressed Cheon Muryang.
"Heard you tried entering the Heavenly Dragon Library?"
"Yes. Lacked the qualifications."
"What arts do you know?"
"Just Heavenly Sun Divine Art."
That meant only the basics tied to it.
Trainees gunning for official status were the same.
"Two months."
"...?"
"I'll give you two."
Two months.
Cheon Muryang grasped the intent.
"Beat the top trainee in two months."
Smirk.
Always the same.
Cheon Seon-hak tested Nameless this way.
And Nameless always upped the ante.
"No."
"..."
"One month's plenty."
"One month?"
"Yes."
Cheon Seon-hak nodded.
"Fine. Make it so."
The aura lifted.
"I'll expect results."
He departed.
Shwaaa!
Downpour unrelenting.
Cheon Muryang burned with fervor.
"Can't hold still. Gotta run."
"Young Master!"
"Training ground's awkward now, so laps around the clan grounds."
"You got this. Warm water waiting."
"Thanks. Appreciate it."
Wol Yeong went ahead.
Then Cheon Muryang dashed freely through the sheets, cooling his fired-up frame.