Chapter 19….
Invincible Sword Spirit
An Invitation
For the first time yesterday, the Sword Spirit had drunk liquor to his heart’s content.
On Black Darkness Island, he had occasionally tasted fruit wine, and even after coming to the Central Plains, he had sipped alcohol once or twice. But never had he drunk as much as he did last night.
After drinking with Jeok Hwa-myeong and Yi Do-gi until dawn, Yi Do-gi brought the two of them to his home, the Xin Chang Yi manor.
“Liquor may scatter one’s reason, but drinking like this isn’t bad at all.”
In truth, to the Sword Spirit, alcohol was no different from water—no matter how much he drank, he never got drunk.
Ordinary masters burned away the influence of alcohol with their will, but the Sword Spirit had already transcended that stage.
His inner force burned away any harmful substances that entered his body on its own. There was no avoiding it.
The only reason he enjoyed drinking late into the night was simple: being with good people made the moment enjoyable.
Jeok Hwa-myeong was a good man, but Yi Do-gi too was someone who, like a pure warrior, yearned for martial growth and strove to become stronger.
Because of that, many of the Sword Spirit’s prejudices against the Xin Chang Yi family—once instilled by Yi Do-gun—had faded.
Thus, when Yi Do-gi invited him as a guest to his home, he did not refuse.
Ta-at!
Faint shouts of exertion echoed in the distance, telling him dawn had come.
The Sword Spirit stepped out of his room.
The day had not yet fully broken, but light was slowly spreading.
He was staying in one of the small annexes within the Xin Chang Yi manor. Standing in front of its tiny yard, he drew a deep breath.
“It’s been a while… perhaps I should stretch my body.”
He moved his arms and legs lightly, then began loosening up.
Crack!
The friction of bones echoed, and the Sword Spirit gave an awkward smile.
“I guess skipping training shows right away.”
After stretching, he began displaying his martial skills in earnest. But his movements were odd.
They were so slow it was hard to tell if he was even moving. Childishly slow, yet his expression was dead serious, beads of sweat forming on his brow.
Anyone watching would never call it a joke. His face was solemn, though his body moved sluggishly.
Motion within stillness. Stillness within motion.
Slowness within speed. Speed within slowness.
That was how his movements were—embodying paradoxes.
Energy began to gather around him.
Though the surroundings seemed calm, currents of force surged toward him, creating a vortex.
Anyone approaching him at that moment would have been swept up in it and harmed.
Crack!
His hand moved toward a stone wall, and faint cracks began to spread along it.
Whirrr! Boom!
A gust of wind collided with the swirling aura surrounding him, gave off a low roar, and vanished on the spot.
After training for about half an hour, the morning sun had risen fully, and he could hear the bustle of servants preparing breakfast beyond the wall.
“Phew…”
Returning to his stance, he ended his training with a long breath.
“As expected, Old Man Solitude’s Slow Sword is best for warming up.”
The Sword Spirit had mastered countless martial arts, but of them, the one he favored most was Solitude Demon Lord Cheon Nam-yeon’s Slow Sword.
It wasn’t simply about moving slowly. The movements only appeared slow because they were actually too fast to perceive.
The reason he had been able to place his hand so casually on the faces of the Yi Do brothers was thanks to the mysteries of this sword art.
—Only one man in the martial world has ever avoided my sword.
That had been Cheon Nam-yeon’s words.
—Only Gu Yeong-cheol could evade my strike.
The Ghost Demon Lord Gu Yeong-cheol could do so for one reason alone: he wielded the fastest sword in the world.
A sword faster than sound!
That was Gu Yeong-cheol’s sword.
Slowness and speed seemed opposite, yet they were of the same nature.
When yin reaches its peak, it becomes yang. When yang reaches its peak, it becomes yin. So too with slowness and speed.
Thus, Gu Yeong-cheol could evade Cheon Nam-yeon’s blade, and vice versa—the fastest sword could not prevail against Cheon Nam-yeon either.
Their swords were opposite in nature, but both had reached such extremes that they had converged into the same realm.
From Cheon Nam-yeon and Gu Yeong-cheol, the Sword Spirit had learned the Slow Sword and the Swift Sword. From Jeonmo Yak-bing, he had learned the Illusory Sword—the most unpredictable blade in the martial world.
Slow, swift, and illusory.
Having mastered all three, the Sword Spirit still favored Cheon Nam-yeon’s style the most. For the simplest reason: it was heavy, masculine, solid.
Stretching his body left him refreshed.
Ta-at!
The faint cries of exertion told him the Xin Chang Yi family’s people were still practicing their morning drills.
“Perhaps I’ll go watch.”
With nothing else to do, he stepped out of the annex to observe their spear techniques.
Spying on another sect’s martial arts was frowned upon in the martial world—but as long as he wasn’t caught, it hardly mattered.
He appeared atop the roof of the inner hall, the tallest building in the estate, and from there looked down at the training grounds.
The spear techniques of the Xin Chang Yi clan, rivaling the famed Shan Dong Ak family, were powerful.
The spear was a weapon specialized for thrusting, but with rotational power, it became devastatingly destructive.
“Whirling Wind Shakes the Willow!”
At the cry, dozens of practitioners circled their spears horizontally, stepped forward in unison, leapt, and rotated their bodies diagonally before striking the ground with their weapons.
“A spear or a staff—it’s really just a matter of whether there’s iron on the end or not.”
That was simply his observation. Not disdain, but his eye found little difference between spear and staff.
“Spring Wind Splits the Willow!”
Watching longer, he noticed many of their forms were wind-related: Whirling Wind, Spring Wind, Gentle Breeze, Whirlwind, Cold Wind, Raging Gale…
“I heard their clan head, Thunder Spear Yi Je-min, mastered the Thunderbolt Twelve Spears—a spear art linked with lightning. Is that because wind and thunder are related?”
After a while, he nodded, then lost interest and vanished from the roof.
As he returned to the annex courtyard, Jeok Hwa-myeong came out, opening the door.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes. I didn’t drink that much, really.”
“From the way you say that, were you drinking since birth?”
He chuckled. To drink so much yet say it was little—he felt he’d met a true drinker.
“They say I was fed liquor instead of milk.”
“You rascal! If you can joke like that first thing in the morning, it seems we’ve grown quite close since last night. That pleases me.”
The Sword Spirit only smiled in response.
He had spoken the truth, but he knew from experience that no one ever believed him.
“Did you come out to warm up your body?”
“I already finished stretching.”
“Did you? Then I suppose I’ll warm up a little myself.”
“Go ahead. I’ll head inside.”
He made to leave, knowing it was impolite to watch another’s martial practice.
“No, no—stay. It’s only a warm-up, no need to step aside.”
So the Sword Spirit sat on the porch while Jeok Hwa-myeong stepped into the yard and began stretching.
In the martial world, one never knew when danger might come, so masters made it a rule always to keep their bodies ready. The higher one’s level, the stricter the discipline.
The Sword Spirit watched.
His movements were neither fast nor slow, almost like careless swings of the arm—yet within them was order.
That order was the essence of the Sword of Lingering Radiance.
‘Not the pursuit of gentleness, but of strength. Still… not bad.’
—People often say softness overcomes hardness.
He recalled Cheon Nam-yeon’s words. That was the principle of subduing strength with softness.
—But there’s something people don’t know.
—Something they don’t know?
—Yes. There exists something called Absolute Strength.
—You mean a power so strong it cannot be surpassed?
—Exactly. Weak strength can be defeated. But absolute strength breaks through any obstacle.
Unlike the Ghost Demon Lord, Cheon Nam-yeon was not one for many words. But each of his utterances had been invaluable.
The Sword Spirit’s lips curved faintly as he watched Jeok Hwa-myeong.
Jeok, seeing that smile, thought it was admiration for his warm-up and felt quite proud.
When he finished, Yi Do-gi entered the annex.
“Brother! Breakfast is ready. Please come join us for the meal.”
“Is that so?”
Jeok Hwa-myeong glanced at the Sword Spirit, wondering if he might still feel awkward after yesterday’s incident with Yi Do-gun.
“Will there be good dishes?”
But the Sword Spirit cared nothing for such matters. His concern was only tasty food.
Ever since coming to the Central Plains, the thing he had enjoyed most was the cuisine.
“They may be simple morning dishes, but the head chef of this house is renowned even in Guangdong. You’ll surely be satisfied.”
“Really?”
Jeok Hwa-myeong gave him a worried look.
Yi Do-gi, knowing why, reassured him:
“I have already given strict warnings, so do not worry.”
“…Very well.”
