Chapter : 88
When the name of the Swordmaster swept across the world, Yeonhwa was wielding her sword in a bizarre estate.
Whoosh!
As Yeonhwa’s sword cut through the air, leaves and petals scattered.
She extended her blade, flicking the fluttering leaves and petals with the tip.
The objects, unharmed, rose back into the sky and whirled around above her head.
Yeonhwa lightly struck the dirt floor, sending even those that had already fallen floating into the air.
Then, amidst the rain of leaves and petals, she continued her sword dance.
“Keep the flow unbroken. Even on Hambyeoksan, the killing intent hasn’t fully dissipated; the scent of blood still lingers.”
With those words, Tak Museong stepped forward. He lightly plucked one of the petals that Yeonhwa’s sword had just grazed with his index and middle fingers.
Although the person on the Hua Realm hadn’t infused internal energy, he slipped neatly into the line of her sword without any sense of danger.
Yeonhwa was the same.
She now knew it was faster to count what he couldn’t do than what he could.
So even as he inserted himself into her sword’s path, she did not stop her movement.
Swish! Swish!
The sword, neither too fast nor slow, pressed heavily forward.
Tak Museong, like Yeonhwa, struck the sword face without using internal energy, sending the petals flying upward.
Cling!
With a clear sound, Yeonhwa’s sword was deflected outward.
As her body staggered, Tak Museong quickly reached out to support her shoulder.
With his other hand, he caught the petal he had sent flying earlier and extended it toward her.
The tip of the petal was dried and withered.
“It’s not the sword that’s damaged. It’s the remaining killing intent in you that dried the petal.”
Yeonhwa frowned.
Tak Museong released the arm that had been holding her and inspected the hand holding the sword.
He was checking whether the forceful movement had strained her muscles.
Judging it was time to rest and apply some medicine, he said:
“Let’s stop here for today.”
“It’s only the second hour.”
“That’s the perfect time.”
Seeing no intention of retreat from Tak Museong, Yeonhwa did not insist.
As she headed toward the garden, Tak Museong walked alongside her.
Meanwhile, refreshments had been laid out.
There was someone who appeared only when Yeonhwa wasn’t looking, busily preparing things and disappearing before being seen.
They were so fast that Yeonhwa had never crossed paths with them…
It seemed the person had prepared everything in advance.
Yeonhwa had no idea that even when she wasn’t present, meals and refreshments appeared at the set time and were cleared away if untouched. She simply found it fascinating.
The two sat across from each other at the table, sipping tea and discussing their training.
After finishing her tea, Yeonhwa asked,
“When will I be able to fully control the killing intent?”
“When your energy follows your will, not your emotions.”
She wanted to ask when that would happen, but felt it strange to pry into his affairs, so she stayed silent.
Tak Museong guessed her thoughts but said nothing further.
He was far too satisfied with the current state.
‘A child who even ran off from the Martial Alliance claiming it was too small wouldn’t stay here long. Still…’
As long as there was an excuse, he wanted to continue this life.
Then, suddenly:
Bang, bang, bang!
Someone was pounding on the estate gate as if to break it down.
This estate, as secluded as its high walls, had a different kind of entrance.
The gate was on the side, not the front, and hidden behind trees.
This was part of why Yeonhwa felt like she was in a cage.
That someone had come all the way here to make such a commotion meant they were not a casual visitor.
“Do we need to answer?”
If they dared such a thing knowing it was Tak Museong, it could only be serious.
“No need.”
Before Tak Museong finished his answer, BANG! BOOM! CRASH!
Even louder sounds erupted this time.
Yeonhwa frowned at the noise, and finally, Tak Museong set down his teacup and stood.
From the stern look on his face, whoever was outside must either have an urgent matter or be someone like Brother Uijun or Moonryeong—otherwise, survival would be difficult.
Yeonhwa rested her chin on her left hand, staring at the tree-hidden gate.
Creak!
After the door opened and a few more sounds, Tak Museong returned.
He still looked stern but sat down in front of Yeonhwa, pushing the dishes toward her, insisting she continue eating.
Yeonhwa shook her head at the thick taste in her mouth.
“Has Brother Uijun arrived?”
Tak Museong looked surprised.
Before he could ask how she knew, the person who appeared from behind the trees spoke first.
“That’s right, Yeonhwa! Brother has come!”
Though they had grown distant since the engagement ceremony, he approached smiling as if nothing had happened.
Then he plopped down next to Yeonhwa.
Only then did Yeonhwa realize she had misunderstood Tak Museong regarding this bizarre estate.
“So, this was originally Brother Uijun’s estate?”
Tak Museong nodded calmly, and Uijun subtly avoided eye contact, scratching his cheek.
“How did you know?”
“Just a feeling.”
Tak Museong asked where, suspicious of the statement.
“…Because the only person who would build such a strange estate while spending lavishly on the finest things would be Brother Uijun.”
Tak Museong seemed to accept that, but Uijun laughed heartily, perhaps feeling guilty.
“Exactly, if it weren’t me, no one would pour money into such a place! Thanks to that, Museong found a quiet place to train as well.”
Only then did Tak Museong notice the odd atmosphere, staring at Yang Uijun.
He narrowed his eyes, grabbed the back of Uijun’s neck, and dragged him behind the private building.
“Hey! Hey!”
The opponent was a master from Hyeongyeong.
Yang Uijun and Tak Museong quarreled in the back for a while before returning.
“Don’t misunderstand.”
Tak Museong spoke with an expression he had never shown, not even in front of thousands of cultists.
“What do you mean?”
“This estate isn’t meant to keep the outside world from knowing of any debauchery inside. The wide garden, the single room, the bathtub bigger than the room… all of it.”
His anger rising, he exhaled deeply before continuing:
“I’ve come here multiple times alone, and you’re the first guest. Surely… you didn’t misunderstand?”
“What misunderstanding?”
“I mean that this annex is mine…”
“It is Brother Museong’s.”
“…Well, yes.”
“You brought me here, said it was Brother’s annex, and then told me not to misunderstand. How am I supposed to take that?”
Tak Museong was left completely speechless.
Yeonhwa couldn’t hold back a laugh.
She had never seen this side of him before.
He only acted this way toward the other two of Samryeong.
Now, Yeonhwa was speaking with him as an equal.
But if she kept teasing him like this, it could become disrespectful.
Especially since her misunderstanding wasn’t about the estate’s unusual purpose but her curiosity about its cage-like design—it was completely different.
No matter how bold Yeonhwa was, she had to stop before things got out of hand.
Yet the expression of the previously angry Brother Museong had completely softened.
He even encouraged her to speak further.
Yeonhwa was puzzled but shook her head.
The bigger problem was on the other side.
“Brother Uijun, why are you like this?”
As Brother Museong relaxed, Uijun’s mood darkened.
In response to Yeonhwa’s question, Uijun changed the topic.
He leaned close to her and whispered:
“Yeonhwa, do you know how many people searched for you while you were here? Everyone is praising you as the Swordmaster.”
“Huh?”
“You resisted hundreds of cultists, fought thousands at Hambyeoksan alone, entered the realm of Hwagyeong… now your name calls the sword itself.”
“That’s greatly exaggerated.”
“But it actually happened, didn’t it? Exaggeration on top of truth becomes history, and eventually legend.”
Yeonhwa was embarrassed by how far rumors had spread in her absence.
But the next words were even more shocking than the title of Swordmaster.
“Some even say, if you are the sword’s master for the Martial Alliance, whose sword among Samryeong are you?”
Yang Uijun paused, staring at Yeonhwa.
“What do you think?”
Bang!
Tak Museong kicked the table.
