Chapter 18
Descendants of the Blade King
The warriors of the Peng Clan surrounded the man and the green-robed figure from all directions.
He could have easily avoided them, but instead of dodging, the man carefully scanned each face one by one.
‘…Not here!’
Lee Hwan was nowhere to be seen.
The green-robed man sent a sound transmission.
[He’s not here!]
Is this his scheme?
A wry smile tugged at the man’s lips. It felt as though he had been played.
He fixed his eyes on Peng Mu-wi and asked,
“Is this the Grand Marshal’s plot?”
“You bastard, what nonsense are you spouting! If you don’t want to die, reveal your identity first!”
Ignoring him, the man turned to Song Hoe and repeated,
“Is this the Grand Marshal’s plot?”
“You should introduce yourself first.”
Song Hoe remained calm.
The man swept his gaze around again, his attitude making it clear he didn’t even consider Peng Mu-wi worth acknowledging.
Another sardonic smile crossed his lips.
“What a ridiculous situation this has turned into.”
So he really doesn’t care about Peng Clan’s warriors? Then I’ll just have to test if he’s truly that strong.
From the tip of Lee Hwan’s fingers, five streams of energy rose.
Unlike before, they were colorless. The five streams shot forward soundlessly and struck the broadsword of one of Peng Clan’s warriors.
Tang!
“Wha—!”
In that tense atmosphere, it was as good as an attack signal.
Peng Mu-wi charged at the man. Even in the waist-high grass, his movement was astonishingly fast.
But the man’s reaction was faster still—he swung up his drawn sword, knocking away the incoming broadsword.
Bang!
Swish, swish!
Grass and raindrops, severed by the shockwave, scattered in all directions.
The green-robed man called out,
“Shall we fight?”
“Avoid killing them if possible.”
“Understood.”
“Attack!”
The Peng warriors rushed in at once.
Just then—
[Fall back.]
The sound transmission brushed against Song Hoe’s ear. Though he disliked it, it was an order from Lee Hwan, so he reluctantly stepped back.
Clang!
Swish, swish!
Song Hoe’s eyes soon widened in surprise.
Against Peng Mu-wi and his warriors, the man and the green-robed figure fought with effortless ease.
Where did such masters come from…?
As expected, they’re no ordinary fighters.
Lee Hwan couldn’t take his eyes off the man’s movements. He blocked Peng Mu-wi’s attacks with minimal effort while steadily closing the distance.
What was strange was that there was no killing intent in his sword at all. The same went for the green-robed man.
Killing without intent is far easier than sparing. This just makes me more curious about who you are.
Then—
[Are you there?]
“…!”
A sound transmission pierced Lee Hwan’s ear.
Echo Transmission!
This was an advanced martial art that only top-tier masters could learn—one that allowed one to send sound across a wide range without knowing the exact location of the recipient.
So you weren’t even going all out.
It was astounding—fighting Peng Mu-wi and his warriors with ease while holding back, and even using Echo Transmission at the same time.
This was a realm not easily challenged.
Lee Hwan’s gaze sharpened. He sent a sound transmission to the man:
[Why are you chasing the Soul-Stealer?]
[I have people I need to find.]
[You mean the Blade King’s descendants?]
[I heard you’re looking for them too. Mind telling me why?]
Clang!
Crash!
Even as they spoke, Peng Mu-wi’s fierce strikes were effortlessly parried. The other Peng warriors’ assistance made no difference.
[Why don’t you reveal your identity first?]
[That’s my line.]
[And if you refuse?]
[Then I’ll just have to kill everyone here, including your lieutenant.]
[Do as you wish.]
[…]
Damn it!
Peng Mu-wi’s face flushed red.
He couldn’t believe what he was experiencing—it was like swinging a sword at an immovable mountain.
Never in his life as a warrior had he felt such helplessness.
“Huh?”
He realized that the man’s eyes—those visible beyond the mask—often flicked away to somewhere else, not fixed solely on him.
Whoosh!
Heat surged through his body. Shame burned into uncontrollable rage.
For a martial artist, this was a humiliation worse than death.
“Look at me, you bastard!”
Slash!
Bang!
“Kh!”
His furious strike was blocked yet again, the impact shaking him even harder than before.
Then—
Flash!
The man vanished.
When Peng Mu-wi’s eyes widened, the man was already standing beside Song Hoe.
[Better decide quickly, or your lieutenant dies first.]
Song Hoe thought the man was hesitating rather than attacking. He wanted to rush in, but Lee Hwan hadn’t given the order.
[Will you really let him die?]
[I’ll ask just one thing.]
[Still refusing to answer, I see?]
Shhhk!
Blue blade aura flared like flames at the tip of the man’s sword—something he hadn’t revealed even against Peng Mu-wi.
As the reflected glow turned Song Hoe’s face pale, Lee Hwan’s next sound transmission shook the man to his core:
[Are you the Blade King Mu-gwang’s descendant?]
The man’s sword trembled.
Lee Hwan’s eyes widened as he gazed at that blade aura—it was like blue fire.
It was the unmistakable sign of the Blade Qi wielded by one of the Three Kings of Daeyaseong, the Blade King Cheol Mu-gwang.
There was no mistaking it. He could never fail to recognize the mark of the man who had been like his own shadow.
[Who are you!?]
The man’s voice quivered through the sound transmission.
Lee Hwan gave a faint smile.
[If you’re Mu-gwang’s descendant, come to my command tent.]
The man forced down his pounding heart.
How does he know that name…?
In Daeyaseong, the Three Kings were known only by their titles—the Sword King, the Blade King, and the Poison King.
No one knew their real names.
In today’s martial world, where all records of Daeyaseong had been erased, many didn’t even know the Three Kings’ titles.
Only the direct descendants knew their true names.
Yet Lee Hwan had spoken it.
The man looked at the green-robed figure.
[We’re leaving.]
[Here?]
[Just follow me quietly.]
“…”
Rumble!
Crackle!
Peng Mu-wi lowered his broadsword, head hanging in defeat.
The Peng warriors stared blankly into the darkness where the man and the green-robed figure had vanished.
“Argh!”
Peng Mu-wi roared toward the sky.
Song Hoe took a deep breath and looked around—but Lee Hwan was nowhere to be seen.
Feels like I’ve been haunted by a ghost.
Clack!
Sheathing his sword, Song Hoe approached Peng Mu-wi, who was trembling all over, his flushed face twisted with humiliation.
“What will you do?”
“Tch…”
Blood dripped from where his teeth had bitten his lips.
They had caused too great a commotion so close to Jo Nation’s border. Their warriors could arrive at any moment.
After some thought, Peng Mu-wi made his decision.
“…We’re heading back!”
Lee Hwan’s command tent.
Song Cheon-mu and Cha Joong-gyeong froze when the man and the green-robed figure suddenly entered, drawing their swords at once.
Shing!
Recognizing them, Cha Joong-gyeong felt his heart drop.
“How did you—”
A voice came from inside the tent.
“They’re guests.”
Cha Joong-gyeong shouted,
“Grand Marshal! These are the ones—!”
“I said they’re guests.”
“…!”
“We’ll talk later.”
The two men glared at Cha Joong-gyeong before opening Lee Hwan’s door.
Their eyes locked.
Lee Hwan was calm, but the man’s gaze was still clouded with confusion. His voice, however, was ice-cold.
“If you don’t reveal your identity, you die.”
“I don’t believe you’ve answered my question yet.”
“Identity first.”
“Even if I tell you, you won’t believe me.”
“Let me be the judge of that—enough games.”
The man radiated a volatile aura, ready to explode at the slightest touch.
Lee Hwan smirked—it reminded him of the Blade King’s hot temper, never listening to others and pushing forward.
If it were him, he’d have already drawn his blade and swung.
Wiping away the smile, Lee Hwan gave the answer he had prepared.
“I am of the Daeyaseong Lord’s line.”
Shing!
The man drew his sword, flooding the room with murderous intent.
“He left no heirs!”
“Let’s just say there are things you don’t know. So fix your expression and put that sword away.”
“…!”
Lee Hwan’s steady tone sent the man’s eyes back into turmoil.
“Prove it.”
Lee Hwan frowned slightly.
“Why does the Blade King’s heir use a sword?”
“Prove it first.”
“We’ll get to that later.”
He took a sip of cold water, then met the man’s gaze and began to speak—reciting secrets only the Blade King’s line could know, some of which the man himself hadn’t heard before.
As the story went on, the man’s eyes wavered more and more. The green-robed figure sniffled, eyes growing red.
“I need to find the sacred treasure that symbolizes the Lord of Daeyaseong. I… lost it, somehow.”
With that, Lee Hwan finished his account and moved to questioning.
“Do you have the Three Kings Token?”
“Tell me the inscription on it.”
His voice was still cold, but his eyes were wet.
I carved it myself—the names of the three of us.
Lee Hwan recited the inscription, naming each of the Three Kings in turn. Only when he said Cheol Mu-gwang did the man drop to his knees.
Thud!
“Mu-ok greets his lord!”
“We greet our lord!”
Thud!
“Mu-ok greets his lord!”
Hearing this from inside, Song Cheon-mu and Cha Joong-gyeong stared at each other, eyes wide.
“What?”
“Lord?”
Cha Joong-gyeong nearly burst into the room—what on earth was going on?
Why are they calling the Grand Marshal ‘lord’?!
It felt surreal.
Then Lee Hwan’s voice came from inside.
“Prepare tea.”
“Yes!”
Song Cheon-mu was about to hurry out when the door opened and Song Hoe entered.
Clatter!
“You’ve returned?”
“Yes, but right now—”
“Were you hurt?”
“No, it’s just—”
“What are you dawdling for?!”
“No, it’s just that—”
“If you’re here, come in.”
At Lee Hwan’s voice, Song Hoe pushed the two aside and entered the room.
