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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: cyno
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“Umm… well….”
“Hmm?”
“Th-thank you for saving me!”
“Oh?”
“I-I will definitely repay this life-saving favor someday…!”
Hongryeon watched Namgung Soso, who was bowing deeply to her, with amusement.
“How entertaining.”
“Huh…?”
“Was this how the enemy felt when they saved me?”
“Enemy…?”
“Having lived my whole life piling up grudges, this is the first time I’ve done something like a good deed. Not bad, I suppose.”
“……?”
Namgung Soso looked bewildered, but Hongryeon continued speaking regardless.
For someone like her, the Heavenly First Assassin who had lived her life steeped in slaughter, conversation with others was an awkward and unfamiliar thing.
“Anyway. Are you feeling alright?”
At the question about her condition, Namgung Soso smiled faintly.
“Yes, thanks to you, I’m fine.”
“Is that so? That’s fortunate. If something had happened to my sister-in-law right before my eyes, I wouldn’t have been able to face him.”
“…Him….”
“Hmm? Why that look? Do you have some complaint?”
At first, Namgung Soso had been confused, but she had already pieced together the situation.
“Honored benefactor… are you truly the lover of my eldest brother?”
“I will be soon.”
“……Soon…?”
“You ask too many pointless questions. How noisy.”
“???”
There were many things she wanted to ask, but Namgung Soso kept her mouth shut.
She didn’t know why, but her benefactor seemed oddly embarrassed, fidgeting slightly.
“You don’t need to stay silent like a mute as long as you’re not asking useless questions.”
Hongryeon casually added this upon seeing Namgung Soso’s stiff demeanor.
“Th-then… may I know your esteemed name?”
After a brief moment of hesitation, Namgung Soso asked for the most essential truth.
“My esteemed name? What do you need it for?”
“Ah, I should at least know so I can repay your kindness later… You know who I am, but I don’t know you….”
“Repay me? Do you really think my sister-in-law could ever help me?”
“N-no, that’s not what I meant….”
“If you’re worried about not recognizing me later, that’s unnecessary. No matter how vast the Central Plains are, how many people do you think have pink hair like mine?”
“Ah, no, that’s not what I meant….”
“If you understand, then stop.”
“Yes….”
Hongryeon was still awkward in conversations with people.
Namgung Soso, too, wasn’t particularly sociable due to her eccentric personality, so an awkward silence lingered between them.
“Umm… but….”
Not wanting to leave her savior in such an uncomfortable atmosphere, Namgung Soso mustered her courage to speak again.
“Wh-why do you love my brother…?”
In her own way, she tried to steer the conversation toward something she had observed about Hongryeon in their short time together—a topic women could easily chatter about.
“Hmm? Is that really your question?”
“Ah, no… M-my eldest brother is branded as trash across the entire world… H-how could you love someone like that…?”
Though Hongryeon’s prickly demeanor threw her off, causing the topic to veer slightly.
“D-did you know he was framed? Is that why you saved me from the Huangbo Family…?”
“Huh? Framed?”
“Huh… You didn’t know…?”
“So it was a frame-up. Well, it did seem strange that a man with such a strong sense of justice would do something like that.”
“Y-you really didn’t know…? So you loved him even while believing those rumors…?”
Stunned by an answer that defied common sense, Namgung Soso pressed further.
“You mean the rumors about him assaulting children and committing atrocities? Didn’t you just say those were lies?”
“They *are* lies, but… you didn’t know until now. How could you still love him while believing those things…?”
Hongryeon answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“What do those children have to do with me? Why should I care what happens to strangers I’ve never met? What does that have to do with my feelings for him?”
“……Ah.”
Hearing Hongryeon’s response, Namgung Soso recalled her past self—the one who had blindly believed the rumors and hated her brother, even if it was just emotional escapism.
She didn’t want to compare, but the guilt she felt toward Namgung Cheolbin made her measure herself against Hongryeon.
“Besides, if you want to nitpick, shouldn’t we first address how the Sword Saint killed my mother?”
“Huh…? Killed your mother…?”
“He killed others to bury that truth, but what’s the point of dredging up the past now?”
“…….”
Given Hongryeon’s personality, the conversation was entirely self-centered, but Namgung Soso didn’t feel any resentment or doubt.
Or rather, she didn’t have the chance to.
The overwhelming wave of self-loathing crashing over her left no room for anything else.
*‘…Why has my sister-in-law suddenly gone so sullen?’*
Naturally, someone like Hongryeon—a master assassin among assassins—couldn’t possibly miss the shift in Namgung Soso’s mood.
“More importantly, there’s something far more pressing right now.”
“Huh?”
To pull Namgung Soso out of her pit of self-blame, Hongryeon abruptly changed the subject.
“Take a good look.”
*Sharak—*
Hongryeon shed the outer layer of her robe.
As the garment slid off her shoulders, her pale pink skin, resembling lotus petals steeped in moonlight, was fully exposed.
“Eek…! Wh-what are you doing…?!”
Namgung Soso quickly covered her face with her hands and turned away.
Having spent her whole life devoted only to Namgung Cheolbin, this was an unbearably embarrassing sight.
Hongryeon pulled Namgung Soso’s hands away and continued.
“My sister-in-law shouldn’t act like this. You should look properly and give me your opinion.”
What filled Namgung Soso’s blue eyes next was… compression bandages.
Wrapped tightly around Hongryeon’s chest, the sight of the bandages made Namgung Soso inwardly sigh in relief—but only for a moment.
When Hongryeon straightened her posture, emphasizing the massive mounds of flesh constrained beneath the bandages, Namgung Soso could only suck in a breath again.
“The fruits of my training, dedicated to seducing the Sword Saint.”
They were *big*.
Not just compared to herself, but to *anyone* she had ever seen.
The overwhelming presence, even through the bandages, made Namgung Soso feel a relative sense of deprivation.
As if she wasn’t already drowning in that feeling while comparing herself as a romantic rival.
“Well? Do you think he’ll fall for me?”
“Ugh….”
Namgung Soso keenly felt the sting of defeat—both mentally and physically.
*****
**Mu** refers to martial arts, and **Gong** refers to study.
Thus, **mugong (martial arts)** is the study of martial techniques.
It begins with the fundamentals—slashing, striking, blocking, dodging, and grappling.
Through the tempering of body and mind, it evolves into a foundation for forging an unyielding spirit and physique.
It delves into the essence of good and evil, harnessing the energies of the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams that permeate nature.
One may stand beside the Buddha like Bodhidharma or become an immortal like Lü Dongbin.
One may become the embodiment of evil like the Blood Demon or the incarnation of destruction like the Heavenly Demon.
And in the end, only **emptiness** remains.
*‘The Jin Tian Ice-Flame Sword I’m refining stands at the stage of the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams.’*
**Jin Tian Ice-Flame Sword**—a sword technique that ascends to the heavens, riding upon the opposing forces of ice and flame.
Among the Five Elements, it embodies the properties of **water** and **fire**.
Though not part of the Five Elements, just as the Imperial Sword Forms of the Namgung Family I’ve learned contain **lightning**…
“First… let me try it myself.”
While staying by Jin Gayeong’s side, I memorized all the stances of the Jin Tian Ice-Flame Sword Technique.
There were many obvious flaws, but the best way to understand them was to perform it myself.
With that thought, I picked up a wooden sword and executed the Jin Tian Ice-Flame Sword.
“Hmm?”
But something felt off.
It wasn’t the excessive, unnecessary movements or the crude stances that blurred the line between feints and real attacks—those were expected.
It was the **awkwardness**.
The transitions between stances weren’t smooth, and the sword’s weight distribution shifted unpredictably.
So I tried again, but the same thing happened.
“……What’s this?”
According to the manual, when transitioning from the fourth stance to the fifth, the weight should shift from the waist to the shoulders.
But the force kept gathering in my wrists.
No matter how I adjusted, executing the stances in sequence naturally led to this.
Suspicious, I performed each stance separately—and this time, there was no issue.
Individually, each stance was fine. The problem only arose when linking them together.
“Was this why Jin Gayeong kept straining her wrists?”
When I asked Jin Gayeong if she felt the awkwardness, she just tilted her head in confusion.
“Huh? I don’t feel anything awkward about it?”
“……Really? The awkwardness is *this* blatant.”
“Not to me? Even if you’re experienced, isn’t it normal for a sword technique you’re using for the first time to feel awkward?”
“Demonstrate it for me. From start to finish.”
“Ah, alright… Ugh… I’m busy, you know….”
It was a demanding request, but if she truly didn’t sense this glaring awkwardness, I had to see it for myself.
I needed to re-examine her form.
It shouldn’t feel this unnatural just because it’s my first time using it—not with my level of swordsmanship.
“Geez… staring like that is embarrassing….”
*Whoosh—! Swish!*
“How’s that? D-done?”
“…….”
“H-hello? Are you not answering? Should I do it again…?”
“No, you may go now.”
“Okay… I wanted to stay longer, though….”
She pouted slightly before leaving, and I returned to the training grounds.
Focusing on the **awkwardness**, I noticed flaws in Jin Gayeong’s swordplay that I hadn’t seen before.
The awkwardness came from forcibly connecting incorrect movements.
The problem was, she had used those incorrect movements for so long that they had become ingrained in her body.
That was why she didn’t feel the same awkwardness I did.
“Sigh….”
So, how should I fix this awkward sword technique?
No—before that, *why* is it awkward in the first place?
Thinking there might be missing movements, I checked the original manual, but the stances themselves were flawless.
Even when I performed them myself, they were fine.
The issue only arose when linking them together, turning the technique into a mess of openings.
“One more try.”
*Swoosh! Swish!*
The flawed weight distribution, the awkwardness.
The more I practiced, the more pronounced it became.
Wondering if the lack of energy flow was the issue, I channeled ice and flame energies into the sword—but it remained the same.
“Unless….”
Then, a sudden thought flashed through my mind.
“Is the weapon wrong?”
The weight distribution was erratic, and it kept demanding wrist strength.
That’s exactly… the characteristic of a **blunt weapon**, isn’t it?
Great blades, war hammers, greataxes—heavy, massive weapons.
“Nothing else makes sense.”
At the far end of the training grounds hung a massive greataxe.
It looked so revered that I asked around and learned its origin.
“That’s the great greataxe used by the founder of the Taiyuan Jin Family when he didn’t have a sword. No one remembers its name. It’s hung there in his honor….”
The founder of the Taiyuan Jin Family used this axe when he didn’t have a sword?
Judging by the martial arts, it seems he used a sword when he didn’t have this axe.
“Hmm… Can I take it down?”
“M-my lord, is there anything you *can’t* do? Of course, right away.”
“……Is that so?”
At some point, the Taiyuan Jin Family’s members had mistaken me for an unofficial power behind the family, but I didn’t bother correcting them.
Jin Gayeong never said anything about it either.
“Hngh—here you go.”
“Thank you for your trouble.”
“Call me if you need anything else, my lord.”
“I will.”
The greataxe was as heavy as it looked.
The blade seemed to be made of darksteel, and the handle—good heavens, even the handle and shaft were entirely darksteel.
The founder must have been *extremely* wealthy.
Not as much as my Cheonggwang Sword, but crafting an axe this size entirely from darksteel would’ve required a fortune.
“That’s not the point right now.”
Gripping the massive greataxe in one hand, I executed the Jin Tian Ice-Flame Sword.
Though its weight would be impossible for an ordinary person to lift, to me, it felt no different from the wooden sword.
*Whoosh—! Whooom!*
“Ah, *this* is it.”
*Whoooom—! Crash!*
Powerful. Overwhelming.
The essence of a **heavy greataxe** was fully present.
“Haha, so it wasn’t the Jin Tian Ice-Flame *Sword* Technique, but the Jin Tian Ice-Flame *Axe* Technique? It got distorted somewhere along the way? Seriously?”
And they just left this treasure unused.
Swords and axes are different.
Unlike swords, which are balanced across the entire blade, axes concentrate their weight at the tip, where the metal is thickest.
That’s why they’re typically wielded with sweeping, throwing motions, like halberds or polearms.
With that in mind, using the Jin Tian Ice-Flame Technique with this massive greataxe felt *perfect*.
The strain on the wrists was from supporting the axe’s weight, not a sword’s.
The awkwardness in linking movements came from the difference between axes and swords.
Axes require momentum to swing again after each strike, whereas swords can swiftly change direction mid-motion for rapid slashes.
“This feels *right*.”
*Whoosh! Whoom!*
The **Jin Tian Ice-Flame Axe Technique**.
One less thing to fix—thank goodness.
……But if I hand this axe to Jin Gayeong, will she even be able to swing it?
No, forget swinging—can she even *lift* it?
“…….”
Well, that’s just another problem to solve, isn’t it?
This is work, after all. Can’t expect it to be easy.
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