Chapter 140

Chapter 140
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**Chapter 140: Grace in Victory**

The young master of the Namcheon Martial Hall lost all will to fight the very moment Baek Heon-so unleashed his aura. Though he had not yet reached his twenties, he stood on the threshold of the second-rate realm, possessing skill enough to challenge those of the first-rate. He was beyond question one of the most gifted rising talents across all Gangseo Province, a warrior of extraordinary prowess. Yet Baek Heon-so had soared far beyond even that standard.

*He was clearly only at the entry to the second-rate realm… how could he have grown this much in a mere half-year?*

Despair threatened to overwhelm him, but instinct took charge as Baek Heon-so’s sword descended; his body moved of its own accord, guided by years of ingrained training.

*Clang!*

The instant their blades met, the young master grasped something. There was a grace, a measured propriety to his opponent’s strike. He had expected to be paraded as a trophy, a display of the foe’s dominance—yet this felt altogether different.

*I see… what a thoughtful young master.*

Power coursed through the blow, but this was no true battle. It was, at its heart, a friendly contest.

Rather than flaunting his superior skill, Baek Heon-so was inviting him to stand as a fellow swordsman, to match his rhythm and share a moment of lighthearted exchange.

*Clang! Clang! Clang!*

“Hah!”

“Excellent form! Now it is my turn!”

“Come at me whenever you are ready!”

Swords struck again and again. Shouts of exertion and good-natured jests rang out through the great hall. Their exchange embodied the very spirit of sparring: testing one another’s skill, that each might grow stronger together.

“Hahaha—the younger generation has truly understood what it means to train alongside one another.”

“We were much the same, once.”

“What a splendid sight to behold.”

A warm, appreciative atmosphere settled over the room—yet one man stood apart, consumed by desolation and bitterness. Namgung Cheon-hu’s gaze remained fixed unwaveringly upon Baek Heon-so.

*First-rate realm… and he has already grasped one of the three great insights of the peak first-rate.*

Contrary to his first, stunned impression when that aura burst forth, Baek Heon-so had not actually attained the peak first-rate. He was firmly first-rate, and had mastered the insight known as Sword Intent Projection. To reach such heights at his age would have marked him as a prodigy worthy of renown across the world—and even as things stood, he had already earned his place among such legends. He did not shine with the same blinding brilliance as Cheon-yeong, like a star blazing in the heavens. Yet to command such mastery so young? In any corner of the realm, he would be hailed as a genius.

If Baek Heon-so were his own younger brother, Namgung Cheon-hu knew he could not have felt anything but resentment. He had been outstripped, utterly and completely, by someone his own age.

*Cheon-yeong… oh, Cheon-yeong…*

His own younger brother, born with gifts beyond measure—the prodigy the entire clan had agreed should stand above even himself, who had already been named heir. And yet Cheon-yeong had loved him, unreservedly, looking up to his elder brother above all others. Namgung Cheon-hu found it impossible to return that affection; holding back his rising jealousy was all he could manage.

And still…

“He is my pride and my joy.”

The words had scarcely left Baek Yang-hui’s lips when Namgung Cheon-hu felt a searing fire roar within him, as if a blaze were consuming him from within.

“How can you say such a thing?”

Baek Yang-hui was nothing but a mongrel—an upstart who had crept into a martial clan from the streets and clawed his way upward. That made Baek Heon-so his enemy, by right of blood. With talent as his weapon, pointed straight at him… how could anyone speak of pride?

“Is it not natural for an elder brother to be proud of his younger brother, young master?” Yang-hui replied calmly. “Besides—*I* taught him everything that has brought him this far.”

In that moment, Namgung Cheon-hu understood the true gulf between himself and Yang-hui—a realization so vivid it felt like a physical blow, and so terrible it made his blood run cold.

*I never… not once, taught Cheon-yeong a single thing.*

Namgung Cheon-yeong had followed him everywhere, begging to learn from him, to practice beside him—but Namgung Cheon-hu had only praised what his brother could already do. He had never once given him true instruction. He had not been able to.

*Yes… Baek Yang-hui. You were a genius, too.*

A talent reminiscent of Namgung Cheon-yeong—perhaps even greater. A heaven-sent prodigy. If he had possessed Yang-hui’s gifts… Cheon-yeong would have been nothing more than a beloved, talented little brother. All the fear and envy gnawing at him would never have existed.

*Grind.*

A sharp, grating sound escaped between Namgung Cheon-hu’s clenched teeth.

For his part, Yang-hui could no longer suppress a smile. *How does it feel now, you hypocrite?*

Baek Heon-so had been transformed in half a year. He had not merely reached the first-rate realm—he had internalized Sword Intent Projection, one of the three supreme insights said to belong only to those standing at the very peak. An achievement no one his age should have been capable of; small wonder Namgung Cheon-hu looked upon him as some kind of monster.

The truth was a little simpler. *So does have genuine talent, of course.* Even the boy he had once dismissed as ordinary had his gifts: the ability to take what he was taught, and make it entirely his own. He was the finest pupil anyone could ask for. Whatever he was told, he embraced with every ounce of his being. And what made that possible? Unwavering trust. Baek Heon-so accepted every word Yang-hui spoke without a flicker of doubt. He endured excruciating pain, convinced that every blow would forge him stronger. For days on end, he bore the full weight of Yang-hui’s presence, etching the essence of Sword Intent Projection deep into his very soul. It was brutal, unrelenting training—yet the result was a fifteen-year-old master of the first-rate, who had awakened the insight of Sword Intent Projection.

*In his past life, he could not even break through to the second-rate until he was well into his twenties.* Back then, the Baek Clan—a third-rate power despite its martial heritage—had no choice but to accept a weak Baek Heon-so as its head. Unlike his father Baek Mu-ryang, who had shattered the barrier to the second-rate wielding nothing but the Heaven-Covering Three Swords, So had never possessed that natural gift.

*That may have been true then… but now, So, I am truly proud of you.*

His heart swelled with feeling—pride, and deep gratitude toward the boy. So’s triumph proved that the path Yang-hui had chosen was the right one.

*For now… let us enjoy this a little longer.*

He drank in Namgung Cheon-hu’s twisted, stricken expression, and a thrill ran through him. This was the face the Namgung clan deserved to wear. From the moment they had met, Namgung Cheon-hu had carried himself with unbearable arrogance—the very picture of the clan’s insufferable pride. To see him reduced to this: consumed by inadequacy and misery…

*I have shaken him deeply. Whatever he plans next, he will make mistakes now, and that will make him easier to counter.* A man who has lost his composure cannot think clearly.

*Clang! Clang! Clang!*

Some hundred exchanges later, the match between Baek Heon-so and the young master of the Namcheon Martial Hall came to an end. Jeong So-gun stepped forward next, delivering another spirited exhibition, and with that, the three bouts were complete.

“Hahaha! Our young warriors have given us a magnificent display!”

“Let us hear it for them, everyone!”

“When else shall we have cause to join hands in such celebration! Splendid!”

The three rising talents stood before the assembly, faces glowing with pride as applause thundered around them. Only Namgung Cheon-hu remained rigid and silent, refusing to clap.

“Young Master Namgung—were you not impressed by their performance?”

“Ah… no. My mind was simply wandering elsewhere.”

“I see. Then let us turn our attention to the feast, and enjoy it properly.”

Baek Mu-ryang was about to bid his attendants bring forth food and wine when another voice spoke.

“Clan Head… it seems you have overlooked something.”

It was the master of the Namcheon Martial Hall.

“Overlooked what?”

“These matches were contested under a wager, if you recall. Even with the Jeongwol Sect in attendance, a promise is a promise.”

Baek Mu-ryang’s expression grew troubled. He had hoped to let the matter rest—but the master of Namcheon had raised it openly, even now that his own son had been defeated.

“The victor may ask one favor of the defeated. So, Clan Head—state your wish, and our hall shall grant it.”

“It was not I who won, but So. The request should come from him.”

The Namcheon master shook his head. “Formally, perhaps. But you and I both know the truth. This was never merely a match between two youths—it was the Baek Clan, the Heaven-Covering Baek Clan, standing against the Namcheon Martial Hall.”

For a moment, silence hung over the room. Then Baek Mu-ryang spoke. “Very well. Then I ask you this, Hall Master—will the Namcheon Martial Hall honor whatever we may ask?”

“A promise is a promise. We will.”

The Namcheon master’s jaw was set firm. He had not forgotten why he had come. Today, he intended to settle the balance of power across Muju, and define his hall’s standing alongside the Baek Clan—once and for all. Even if it meant disadvantage to his own people. Better to resolve things cleanly than let resentment fester. He stood ready, awaiting the answer—when Baek Mu-ryang spoke, his words were disarmingly simple.

“Thank you.”

The Namcheon master blinked. “For what?”

“Our ancestors founded this clan to protect the common people of Gangseo. And we, their unworthy descendants, have failed to uphold that vow.” Baek Mu-ryang rose from his seat as he spoke. “So thank you, Hall Master. I have long held great respect for the Namcheon Martial Hall. I know full well all you have done for the folk of this province.”

The Namcheon Martial Hall may have taught its arts for payment—but it also took in children from the poorest families, and stood as a shield over their kin. It was a force for good.

“That is all I ask. Thank you.”

“Clan Head…”

“Then hear my answer. If we might make but one request of your hall: continue to stand for the people, as you have always done. Let me remain grateful for all you do.”

The Namcheon master stared at him, at a loss for words. He could have demanded absolute submission. He could have ordered the Namcheon to abandon their lands and leave Muju forever. Yet he had asked for nothing. To live in a way that deserved gratitude? It was no demand at all. They would have done so anyway.

In that moment, the Namcheon master knew exactly what he must say. *To serve such a man as this… what shame is there in bowing before him?*

He rose, and offered a formal, solemn salute. “Clan Head Baek—no, Lord Baek! I, Nam Seong-han, Master of the Namcheon Martial Hall, ask this of you: grant us leave to rename our house the Heaven-Covering Martial Hall!”

Baek Mu-ryang looked taken aback. He understood exactly what this meant.

“Hall Master… you place me in a difficult position.”

“I have seen the truth of our purpose. I have seen what a great man looks like—and now I may walk in his shadow. How could I refuse?”

“To change your name? Your ancestors would never forgive you.”

“On the contrary—they would rejoice! To walk in the path laid down by the ancient Baek Clan… the Heaven-Covering Baek Clan… is the greatest honor we could ask for! You know as well as I do that all of Gangseo, and Muju above all, was once your land!”

The Namcheon master did not lower his salute, standing firm until Baek Mu-ryang would give his blessing. At last, after long consideration, Baek Mu-ryang nodded.

“Let us feast first. We may speak of what comes later.”

Harmony settled over the hall, warm and bright as something from an old tale. He had said “later,” but the path ahead was clear: the Baek Clan and the Namcheon Martial Hall would stand as one. Even the members of the Jeongwol Sect sat deep in thought, moved by what they had witnessed. The gathering had sealed the union of Muju’s martial world.

Only Namgung Cheon-hu remained silent, watching them all—Baek Mu-ryang, the Namcheon master, the leader of the Jeongwol Sect. He thought of all that had passed, of Yang-hui’s words, and of Baek Mu-ryang’s quiet strength. And within him, darkness gathered.

*The Baek Clan must be destroyed. Whatever the cost, it will be done.*
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