The Heaven-Slaying Sword

It was quite a long time ago.

When Gwon Pyowol was eighteen years old, he was an instructor at a small martial arts school in Hebei.

While his martial talent and the rural setting certainly played a role in becoming an instructor at such a young age, the cold truth was this.

Gwon Pyowol naturally became an instructor simply because he was the school owner’s son.

Though he didn’t particularly have any complaints about it.

Wielding a sword was more enjoyable to him than anything else, and teaching children while being called instructor was a proud position that would make anyone hold their heads high with their shoulders straight.

Aside from that, Gwon Pyowol was the type of person who was satisfied with the little things, so he thought his life would always be this smooth.

During this time, he met a man called Sword Star Mok Seon-oh.

“You have an excellent physique.”

This was before blood engulfed the land and history was written in red. Gwon Pyowol felt a world-shattering shock when he encountered Mok Seon-oh, who had wandered into his village by chance during his travels through the martial world.

It was understandable, as Mok Seon-oh had defeated his father, whom he had thought to be the strongest in the world, in just one second.

It was just a friendly sparring match, so both his father and Mok Seon-oh were satisfied, but Gwon Pyowol’s feelings differed.

“How can you be so strong?”

The young Gwon Pyowol was full of vigor and possessed a powerful desire for improvement.

Upon realizing there was a world beyond the sky he had always known, he could no longer contain his soaring aspirations.

At that moment, Mok Seon-oh uttered something.

Words that would alter the very course of Gwon Pyowol’s life.

“Infuse your sword with it. The vision of the ideals you seek.”

“Ideals?”

“With every technique… No, each time you draw your sword, you must wrap it in conviction. Is there any weapon more powerful than an unbreakable belief?”

To be honest, Mok Seon-oh was an ugly man.

He had protruding cheekbones, a fist-sized nose, and drooping eyebrows twice the length of his small eyes.

But when he smiled, Gwon Pyowol felt as if he was looking at the most handsome man in the world.

A swordsman living for romance had such a splendid smile.

From that day on, Gwon Pyowol’s dream was to become a chivalrous hero.

“Father! I’m going to learn about the martial world!”

“Alright. I will always support you.”

At the age of nineteen, Gwon Pyowol set out into the martial world.

At twenty-one, he joined the Martial Arts Alliance.

And at twenty-three, he went to war against the Blood Cult during the Bloodstained History.

Looking back, it was a series of horrific moments, yet there was something that all martial artists who lived through that era acknowledged.

The age of the Bloodstained History was the age of Chivalrous Heroes.

The martial world of that time was more righteous than ever before.

The orthodox faction, which had never been united before, came together under the name of the Martial Alliance.

Transcendent Realm masters who had always been at odds with each other charged towards a single enemy under the banner of the Four Stars and Six Kings.

It was during those days that Gwon Pyowol reunited with Mok Seon-oh.

The swordsman from his memories had become the Sword Star, and the young man who had become an instructor at a rural martial arts school had become a martial artist of the Alliance. But that wasn’t important.

“You still have an excellent physique.”

What was important to Gwon Pyowol that day was that the man who had been his dream still remembered him.

“I’ve been chasing after you. To become a chivalrous hero.”

The slightly older Mok Seon-oh had a sagely aura added to his ugliness.

Wrinkles had been formed with the passing of years.

But there was something that hadn’t changed.

Mok Seon-oh was still a chivalrous hero with a splendid smile.

“That’s embarrassing. But I’m proud that I appeared as one to you.”

And for him, that was enough.

The history of blood ended.

However, Gwon Pyowol’s journey in the martial world didn’t end.

He wanted to proclaim.

That one must carry conviction in their heart with every draw of the blade, for the sword bears such weight that it should never be wielded without purpose.

When he turned thirty-five, he was bestowed the title of Golden Sword.

At thirty-eight, on the day he became commander of the White Sword Unit, he received the golden scabbard.

For another three years, he pressed on, running straight ahead without pause.

Only now, the Gwon Pyowol of today finally realized.

He had been weighed down by the very weight of his sword.

And that he had become a man who only cared about the weight of the sword, forgetting to wield it with conviction.

No, even the conviction he was supposed to wield was wavering.

“Sword of Sovereignty.”

And now, he had finally shed those constraining layers.

“It’s a sword art that governs other sword techniques. A martial art passed down through my family.”

This enlightenment was because of the youthful vigor in front of him.

“What is your sword?”

The five seconds he had given him were already over.

Mok Riwon was bitterly realizing what the wall of the Supreme Realm meant.

It wasn’t about flashy sword techniques or an imposing aura.

It was simply immaculate.

Golden Sword Gwon Pyowol was a man who wielded a sword as restrained and heavy as the ideals he pursued.

A big smile formed on Mok Riwon’s lips.

His eyes shone with even more excitement than ever before.

“Sword of a Myriad Principles.”

Mok Riwon said.

“It’s a sword that encompasses ten thousand sword techniques and governs them with a single intent.”

For the first time in today’s matches, Mok Riwon took on a formal stance.

“It’s a martial art I created myself.”

A glint flashed across Gwon Pyowol’s eyes, and a smile identical to the young man before him formed on his lips.

“To spar with a great master, it’s truly an honor.”

“Likewise.”

The five seconds were up.

Two men stood there, swords poised at each other.

This was the Headquarters of the Orthodox Faction, the Martial Arts Alliance.

And on a sparring ground.

No further words were necessary.

The two men moved simultaneously.

Gwon Pyowol’s Sword of Sovereignty shot out with precision, thrusting towards the center of Mok RIwon’s stomach.

Mok Riwon countered with an upward slash.

But it wasn’t a simple upward slash.

His form was ever-changing, symbolic of the Ink Dragon.

Even at this moment, it was constantly shifting, seeking an opening to exploit.

Clang!

The upward slash transformed into a downward strike.

Gwon Pyowol’s thrust was deflected, missing Mok Riwon entirely.

Seizing that instant, Mok Riwon’s sword reversed direction, aimed for Gwon Pyowol’s neck.

Gripping his sword in reverse, Gwon Pyowol parried the incoming blade with his hilt.

Clang!

The clash of steel resonated across the sparring ground.

Each movement, infused with qi, sent shockwaves throughout the entire arena.

The exchange of sword techniques continued.

Mok Riwon’s sword was like a raging tempest, while Gwon Pyowol’s sword felt like a deeply rooted tree that wouldn’t fall even in the fiercest storm.

At a glance, it might seem like Mok Riwon was one-sidedly pressing the onslaught, but none of those watching the match were inexperienced enough to be deceived by that.

Namgung Jincheon furrowed his brow.

A difference in class.

It was similar to the situation in the finals of the Dragon Phoenix Tournament.

However, the reason Gwon Pyowol wasn’t falling like he had that day was simple.

Having crossed the wall of the Supreme Realm, he was on an entirely different level, even compared to Mok Riwon.

That must be what was causing this difference.

Namgung Jincheon crossed his arms and widened his eyes.

His azure eyes shone as if he didn’t want to miss even a single moment, filled with a sharp light.

Through this sparring match, Namgung Jincheon was observing.

The method to bring Mok Riwon to his knees, the direction he himself should take.

Overwhelming power.

Even in the face of a sword that pressed with an even more overwhelming class difference, he would remain composed.

It wasn’t just Namgung Jincheon.

The sparring match between these two men was truly living up to the name of a friendly competition, inspiring everyone who watched it.

It was giving them small clues to break through their own walls.

And that was just for the observers.

Then how much more for the participants themselves?

Clang!

Their swords went back and forth.

The intent imbued in their swords, the convictions supporting them, and their ideals are exchanged.

With smiles never leaving Mok Riwon and Gwon Pyowol’s faces.

It was like dancing with swords on a tightrope where a moment’s lapse in concentration could lead to a fall.

The thrilling sensation that arose from this coursed through their entire bodies.

Amidst the threat and tension that focused their thoughts to a single point, the thought that occurred to both of them was surprisingly one and the same.

This is fun!

They were both enjoying this match.

The exchanged swords were telling each other so many things.

The form of the sword is the form of the heart, and also the essence of the person.

In Gwon Pyowol’s powerful and restrained sword, Mok Riwon felt his steadfast personality, his restrained etiquette, and his passion that burned like embers that never die.

In Mok Riwon’s pressing sword, Gwon Pyowol felt his capriciousness, his bubbly personality, and his passion that burned brilliantly like a raging fire.

Once again they clashed.

From swift to strong, then from flowing to heavy.

Mok Riwon’s sword, which contained four variations in a single strike, was blocked by Gwon Pyowol with just a twist of his wrist.

Gwon Pyowol’s next move was the greatest of the day.

He took a big step forward.

With a boom, his qi swept across the sparring ground.

Mok Riwon sensed it instantly.

I can’t face this head-on!

The difference in class was truly insurmountable, and if he clashed directly with this, there was a 100% chance he would be defeated.

Mok Riwon stepped back, but Gwon Pyowol didn’t stop his movement.

“You haven’t seen the Supreme Realm yet.”

A smile appeared on Gwon Pyowol’s lips.

Now that he had shaken off his delusions, there was nothing to hold him back.

He intended to show this young and talented chivalrous hero a world he hadn’t experienced yet.

“Qi manifestation is ultimately the expression of one’s mental image. Remember this well.”

Qi burst forth from Gwon Pyowol’s body.

His qi was the light of a rock.

But it was a soft form without any trace of roughness.

It was a form that directly showed his life of reaching the realm of the superhuman with the unremarkable family martial art of the Sword of Sovereignty, of polishing a rough rock into a precious gem.

Gwon Pyowol swung his sword down from above.

It was a sword imbued with a cleanliness that made it impossible to guess how long he had trained just this one move.

It was qi in the form of a sword.

It was the skill of manifesting what one has honed throughout their life into a visible form.

A skill that was like proof of those standing at the threshold of transcendence.

A complete form of qi arts was recreated here.

It filled Mok Riwon’s field of vision.

…Ah.

At that moment, Mok Riwon’s instincts told him.

Even if I try to flee to any corner of this sparring ground right now, I won't be able to escape that sword.

There was no killing intent.

But his survival instincts cried out.

It was defeat.

At this, Mok Riwon smiled.

Incredible.

He would lose like this.

But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t struggle.

Black qi burst forth from Mok Riwon.

He began to unleash an awkward qi art that he couldn’t even wield properly.

The third form of the Starfall Seven Swords, Sword of Twelve Earthly Branches.

Transparent stars appearing in the black mist filled the space, dyeing all the paths Mok Riwon could take with light.

And then.

Boom!

He cut Gwon Pyowol’s clothes.

On this day, Mok Riwon faced the wall of the Supreme Realm.

* * *

Silence fell over the sparring ground.

The young martial artists who had witnessed this overwhelming disparity were too preoccupied with counting the final exchanges to say anything.

Gwon Pyowol stood in the center, looking at Mok Riwon who was kneeling.

Then he felt the front of his clothes with his hand.

A wry laugh escaped his lips.

Unbelievable.

It was an imitation.

The qi art he had shown was a clumsy one that could barely be imitated by those at the very edge of the Peak Realm while looking towards the Supreme Realm.

But Mok Riwon wasn’t even at the edge of the Peak Realm.

He was firmly in the middle of the Peak Realm.

In other words, Mok Riwon had forcibly grasped a skill that shouldn’t have been allowed to him, using only his innate talent and adaptability.

Gwon Pyowol marveled at this phenomenal talent.

A fact arose with certainty.

He will surpass me.

Before long, this young chivalrous hero will dash to a realm that even I myself would not dare to look at.

Lost in such thoughts, Gwon Pyowol smiled and shook them off.

But not yet.

If a new master appeared in the orthodox faction, he should simply welcome it.

And for now, he was still the stronger one.

“It was an excellent match.”

He simply showed proper courtesy to his opponent.

Mok Riwon, with a dazed expression, mulled over the situation that had just occurred, then finally smiled refreshingly and said.

“…I learned a lot!”

Mok Riwon’s match had ended.

But the Dragon Phoenix Squad’s matches weren’t over.

Gwon Pyowol immediately looked at the Dragon Phoenix Squad and said.

“Who’s next?”

He then went on to win 5 more consecutive matches.

Gwon Pyowol thoroughly showed them what it meant to be a commander of the Martial Alliance.

And what it meant to be a martial artist of the Supreme Realm.

***

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