—————————————————————–
Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Silverriver
—————————————————————–
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
-Shing!!
Having failed to grasp the deeper principles, Seong-cheol abandoned the forms altogether, resorting to improvisation.
“Hmm.”
-Thwack!!!
“Ugh?!”
But what could someone who had barely taken his first steps in the martial arts achieve without the foundation of established forms? His swordsmanship, now devoid of structure and discipline, became erratic and predictable. Jang-un clicked his tongue.
He possessed talent, certainly. Talent as a martial artist. To have achieved this much in just six months was impressive. Perhaps even more so than his own sons.
However, it wasn’t the talent needed to inherit the Dokgo sword.
“If you have nothing more to show me, let’s end this.”
-Rumble!!
A powerful aura erupted from Jang-un. For the first time, he went on the offensive.
-Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
A storm of attacks rained down on Seong-cheol. The speed wasn’t particularly fast. Seong-cheol could clearly see the movements. Jang-un was deliberately holding back, adjusting his speed to match his opponent’s level.
Yet, Seong-cheol couldn’t respond. The seemingly chaotic yet meticulously calculated strikes precisely intercepted his defenses and evasions. He was trapped in a whirlwind of blades, unable to move, unable to breathe.
This was the true essence of the Dokgo Clan’s swordsmanship, the true power of Dokgoyegeom.
Seong-cheol, awestruck by its might, stared intently at Jang-un’s movements, trying to absorb every detail, every nuance.
‘Huh?’
And then, he noticed something.
‘Let’s see if you can grasp it. If you truly possess the talent to inherit the Dokgo sword…’
Jang-un had been thinking, as he relentlessly hammered Seong-cheol with his practice sword. It was a blunt weapon, so there was no danger of being cut, but if it had been a real sword, Seong-cheol would have been sliced to pieces long ago.
-Shing!!
How long had it been?
Jang-un finished a flurry of attacks and prepared to strike again. Or rather, he tried to strike.
-Whoosh!!
Seong-cheol’s sword, which had been seemingly frozen in place, suddenly shot out, aiming for Jang-un’s wrist. Surprised by the sudden, sharp attack, Jang-un pulled back his sword and retreated a step.
“…Oh?”
This was unexpected. Had Seong-cheol improved this much in just six months? Jang-un quickly pressed his attack, eager to test the limits of his opponent’s newfound skill.
-Shing!!
-Whoosh!!
But once again, just as he was about to strike, Seong-cheol’s sword intercepted him, blocking his path. Jang-un dodged easily, but a sense of unease settled in his heart.
‘Could it be…? No, it’s just a fluke. It was an obvious trajectory. I could have read it easily if I had been paying attention.’
The thought that Seong-cheol might actually possess the talent to inherit the Dokgo sword flickered across his mind.
But how could he? Even his own sons hadn’t possessed the complete talent. He dismissed the idea, raising his sword once more.
And then.
Seong-cheol stepped forward, his eyes fixed on Jang-un’s movements.
‘I see it.’
He analyzed every detail of Jang-un’s movements, dissecting each subtle shift in his stance, the placement of his feet, the bend of his knees, the twist of his waist and shoulders, the swing of his arm.
By understanding these individual components, he could predict the trajectory of the sword. He swung his own sword, anticipating Jang-un’s next move, intercepting his attack before it could even begin.
-Whoosh!!
Seong-cheol’s sword sliced through the air, and Jang-un retreated, his face now filled with a growing certainty.
One instance could be dismissed as coincidence. Two could be attributed to luck.
But three? Three was a pattern. He stared at Seong-cheol, a look of disbelief slowly spreading across his face.
‘Does he really have the talent?’
Dokgoyegeom was a preemptive sword style. A lightning-fast technique that emphasized anticipating and intercepting an opponent’s attacks before they could even begin. By reading their movements, predicting their intentions, a Dokgoyegeom practitioner could disrupt their rhythm, shatter their defenses, and overwhelm them with a relentless barrage of attacks.
Therefore, while Dokgoyegeom had foundational forms, a true master transcended those forms, adapting their movements to each opponent, creating new techniques on the fly.
Thus, the talent required to master Dokgoyegeom wasn’t simply speed or raw power.
It required two things:
The ability to instantly read an opponent’s movements and predict their next attack.
And the judgment to instantly determine the most effective counter.
-Shing! Shing!!
Exchanging blows with Seong-cheol, Jang-un thought, his mind reeling in disbelief.
His first son had possessed the foresight but lacked the judgment. His second son, conversely, had possessed excellent judgment but lacked the foresight.
Both possessed talents that would have made them renowned swordsmen in other styles. But not in Dokgoyegeom. Their talents were incomplete, insufficient to master a style that demanded the ability to discard established forms and adapt to every opponent.
It was a source of regret.
But thankfully, his sons had complemented each other, their strengths balancing out their weaknesses.
He had hoped that after his death, they would continue to refine their skills together, and perhaps, someday, when a truly talented descendant appeared, they would be able to pass on Dokgoyegeom in its complete form.
But both his sons had died in the Battle of Jeongsa, swept away in the bloody tide of conflict.
There would be no successor. No one had emerged with even the partial talents of his sons.
The Dokgoyegeom lineage would end with him. He had long since accepted this fate.
And yet…
-Shing!!
Against all odds, he had appeared.
The one with the perfect talent, the one Jang-un had been searching for his entire life.
-Clang!!!
Jang-un’s sword deflected Seong-cheol’s attack, his own strike imbued with more power than he had intended. Seong-cheol’s sword, knocked away, clattered to the ground.
“haah… haah… haah…”
The spar over, Seong-cheol gasped for air, the tension draining from his body. Even though Jang-un had held back, adjusting his skill to match Seong-cheol’s level, it had been a life-or-death struggle for him.
“You dropped your sword. Even you must know what that means for a swordsman.”
Indeed, dropping one’s sword in battle was akin to accepting defeat, to admitting one’s own mortality. There was no shame in retreating, in picking up one’s sword and living to fight another day. But a true swordsman would never turn their back on an opponent, never show such weakness. Seong-cheol acknowledged his defeat.
“I lost, Elder.”
“Indeed. So, don’t drop it again.”
“…….”
“…….”
“…Huh? Elder, what did you just-”
A beat later, Seong-cheol finally voiced his confusion. Jang-un turned sharply.
“Leave all the chores to Ye-ryeong from tomorrow onwards. You need to focus on your training. You can’t be distracted by other tasks.”
“Elder? Then… you mean… could it be-?”
“Why are you so slow-witted! You passed! I’m saying I’ll take you as my disciple! Are you dissatisfied?!”
“No! Not at all!”
Seong-cheol’s heart swelled with emotion as he blurted out his reply.
“Thank you, Elder!!”
He prostrated himself again, bowing his head to his new master. Jang-un clicked his tongue, then smiled, a genuine smile that reached his eyes.
“From now on, you call me Master, not Elder.”
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
From that day forward, Seong-cheol began his formal training in the Dokgo Clan’s swordsmanship under Jang-un’s mastership.
The training was brutal, relentless, unforgiving. For Jang-un, Seong-cheol was his last chance, his final opportunity to pass on his family’s legacy. He pushed Seong-cheol to his limits and beyond, demanding perfection with every swing, every stance, every breath. There were days when Seong-cheol could barely move, his body aching, his muscles screaming in protest. There were nights when he collapsed from exhaustion, his mind and body pushed to the brink of collapse.
But the results were undeniable. Under the guidance of a true master, Seong-cheol’s skill grew exponentially. He learned quickly, absorbing Jang-un’s teachings like a sponge, his natural talent blossoming under the old man’s expert guidance. His progress was so rapid, so remarkable, that it was hard to believe he had only begun his martial arts journey at the age of thirty-six.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Thirteen years later.
When Seong-cheol was forty-nine years old.
“The match is over! The winner is Dokgo Seong-cheol of the Dokgo Clan! Therefore, the champion of this tournament is Dokgo Seong-cheol, wielder of Dokgoyegeom!”
Seong-cheol had won the martial arts tournament hosted by the Murim Alliance. Although it was a tournament for promising disciples and young masters of various sects and clans, his victory sent ripples through the Jianghu.
It was a significant event. A formidable martial artist had emerged from the Dokgo Clan, a family that had been in decline for twenty years, ever since the Battle of Jeongsa. Some questioned Jang-un’s decision to take on an outsider as his heir, but even they couldn’t deny Seong-cheol’s skill and achievements.
And with that victory, he earned a new title.
In the Jianghu, the title of Sword Saint was bestowed upon the most skilled swordsman. While Seong-cheol’s swordsmanship was exceptional, he had only proven himself against promising disciples, not established masters. Thus, he was called the “Young” Sword Saint, acknowledging his skill while also indicating that he had yet to reach the pinnacle of his potential.
However, many believed that given his talent and his rapid rate of improvement, it wouldn’t be long before he earned the title of true “Sword Saint.”
This was a boon for the righteous faction of the Murim, which had been lacking a strong leader since the Battle of Jeongsa. However, not everyone welcomed Seong-cheol’s rise.
His exceptional talent and the sudden resurgence of the Dokgo Clan’s prominence in the Murim were not universally celebrated. Namgung Hwan, the head of the Namgung Clan, considered the strongest of the Five Great Clans, felt particularly threatened.
“That old Dokgo Jang-un… I thought he had retired from worldly affairs and was living peacefully as an old man. But he was secretly raising a tiger cub.”
After the Battle of Jeongsa, the righteous faction of the Murim had declined sharply. The Namgung Clan was no exception. Their current standing was a pale shadow of their former glory.
Namgung Hwan had been striving to restore his clan’s prestige, to elevate them not only to the top of the Five Great Clans but to the pinnacle of the entire righteous faction. He had sent his three sons to the tournament with high hopes, but the results were as everyone had seen.
“Annoying. Truly annoying. Those Dokgo bastards…”
If it weren’t for them, his clan could have regained control of the Murim.
“I don’t like it, but… if something is an eyesore, it must be removed.”
After much deliberation, Namgung Hwan made a decision.
That decision had nothing to do with the righteousness and honor the righteous Murim so often proclaimed.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
