"Supreme Sword of the Roaming Martial Artists"
A title meaning he's the finest swordsman among all the wandering warriors.
Baek Yang-hui earned this title after spending more than a decade wandering the martial world.
However, Yang-hui was far from fond of his title.
'It's the fault of those gossiping enthusiasts, always embellishing things. The "Supreme Sword" title is ridiculous.'
There were already titles like Sichuan's Supreme Sword, Wudang's Supreme Sword, and even Supreme Sword of the Lake District.
'At this rate, we'll be seeing Supreme Swords popping up even among third-rate underworld thugs! What's next? "Supreme Sword of the Black Serpent Gang?"'
Trailing behind him on the mountain path, Yang-hui's companion, Baek Li-chu-dal, chuckled as he chimed in.
'Still, brother, it's not something just anyone could achieve. Getting a title like "Supreme Sword" as a mere wanderer—you've got to feel a bit proud, right?'
'Chu-dal, Chu-dal. You bear the character for "shameful" in your name, you know.'
The shorter form, Chu-dal, bristled immediately.
'It's "chu" for pursuit, not shame! I'm a master who never misses his mark within a hundred leagues! That's the meaning behind my name!'
'Yes, but your title includes only one hundred leagues—neither a thousand nor ten thousand. Ever wonder why?'
'...'
'It means that's exactly how far your reputation extends.'
'Hey! How could you say that to me!'
'Why not? I can handle it myself; after all, I'm still only the so-called Supreme Sword of Roaming Martial Artists.'
Though he laughed, there was a trace of self-mockery hidden within. But Chu-dal scoffed.
'With your level of skill? You're already at the peak realm at such a young age!'
Chu-dal was convinced. If his sworn brother had revealed the full extent of his martial abilities, he'd surely have received a different title entirely.
'No point in putting on airs,' Chu-dal said.
'Caught me, didn't you?'
'But a third-rate martial artist reaching the peak realm before even turning forty? That's no easy feat.'
And then there was Yang-hui's amassed wealth—enough for three generations to live in luxury. Talking down about his status only sounded like mockery.
But.
'It's not enough. There's still a long way to go before I can turn a third-rate family into a true martial clan.'
This was Yang-hui's dream and purpose: to elevate his insignificant family to the rank of an established martial house.
'Brother, you're truly relentless. You've been wandering as a drifter for twenty years, saving money and creating your own martial arts techniques.'
Yang-hui smirked as he replied, 'Feeling sorry for me? Then why don't you invest some of the money you've saved with this pitiful older brother?'
'What nerve! Just try touching the dowry fund of this old bachelor who's already missed his prime marriage age!'
'In return, I'll make you an elder of our family's main house.'
'I'll have you know I'm confident I'd get a better position wherever I go!'
Yang-hui shot back immediately.
'With only a hundred leagues under your belt, you think you'd be accepted as an elder anywhere else? Just join our family already, you fool!'
'No way!'
'Then let's do this: from the reward for our latest mission from the Namgung family, I'll take seven, and you take three.'
'Are you kidding? That's absurd!'
'What's so absurd?'
Yang-hui slowed to a halt, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword.
'You haven't noticed yet, have you?'
Chu-dal's body tensed.
'You mean?'
'Yes. Get ready.'
Srrng!
In unison, Yang-hui and Chu-dal drew their swords.
All around them, the bushes rustled as more than ten masked figures in black appeared.
'Eleven of them. Judging by their stance, they're well-trained. Why would they set up an ambush with such precision?'
Yang-hui made a nonchalant comment, masking his curiosity.
'Looks like black garb is all the rage among the Green Forest these days?'
'You have a sharp sense, for someone known as the Supreme Sword of Roaming Martial Artists.'
'I may only be "supreme" among wanderers, but my sense of smell's top-notch. The stench here is overpowering. Don't you agree, Chu-dal?'
Chu-dal immediately chimed in.
'Indeed, brother. This reek has been here for a while. Now I see it's coming from those masked faces.'
'They must know as well. Look at how thoroughly they've wrapped up their faces.'
'I bet they're hiding their faces because their looks stink as much as the smell.'
'You're onto something, haha!'
'Not just onto something—a hundred leagues onto something! Hahaha!'
Laughing and trading insults, Yang-hui and Chu-dal mocked their attackers. Some of the masked men could no longer contain their anger, visibly reacting.
At that moment, Yang-hui and Chu-dal seized their chance, launching themselves at the two who had revealed their emotions.
Thwack!
'Agh!'
One masked man's exposed vulnerability earned him a swift ticket to the afterlife.
Then, Yang-hui lifted his sword, blocking the blade of another attacker rushing in from the side.
Clang!
'Chu-dal, go now!'
'Got it!'
Using Yang-hui's shoulder as a springboard, Chu-dal leaped high, broke through the encirclement, and dashed away, using a body movement technique to increase his speed.
In a flash, Chu-dal's figure receded into the distance, and Yang-hui taunted their attackers with mock surprise.
'Whoa! That Chu-dal guy, I tell you, his movement technique's unmatched. If you don't want word of this ambush spreading, you'd better go after him, boys!'
With a hand signal from their leader, nine of the masked men gave chase.
One remained, evidently their commander.
'This is unexpected.'
Yang-hui had planned to break the formation, scatter the group, and create some unpredictable variables—but he hadn't anticipated only one would remain.
'You bear the name Supreme Sword of Roaming Martial Artists. Do you have the confidence?'
The masked leader drew his sword without a word.
'Ah, you wield a sword, too. Judging by your confidence, I'd guess you've also been called some kind of "Supreme Sword," haven't you?'
'…'
The man stayed silent.
A mute, was he? Yang-hui decided to guess.
'With that mask on in this sweltering summer… must be "Supreme Sword of the Hideous." The finest swordsman among the ugly! That's your secret identity, right?'
'I see now. Not the Supreme Sword of Roaming Martial Artists, but the Supreme Tongue of Roaming Martial Artists.'
'Ah, my sharp tongue is one of my finest skills. Want to be more impressed?'
Yang-hui continued.
'Why would the Namgung family—the ones who hired us—be ambushing us?'
Neither testing his skill through techniques nor analyzing his opponent's qi through the flow of energy, Yang-hui nevertheless sensed something familiar.
'…Indeed, you're dangerous.'
The masked man removed his mask, and Yang-hui was hit with a shock.
'You?!'
A title like "supreme" designates the finest among many. Therefore, only one could truly be the world's "supreme."
This man was none other than the young master of the Namgung family, the foremost martial clan in the realm.
'Young master, what on earth is this?'
The young master, Namgung Cheon-yeong, replied gravely.
'We cannot stand by and watch a family that was once one of the Five Great Families reclaim its martial heritage.'
This was the true reason Yang-hui had wandered the martial world—restoring the lost techniques of his family.
'Your skills went beyond mere third-rate martial arts, reaching the level of mastery, unmatched by others. I'm sorry, Supreme Sword of the Roaming Martial Artists.'
Instead of questioning how his techniques had been discovered, Yang-hui laughed, scoffing.
'Well, I did pull off a rather impressive feat. It's no wonder even the young master of the Namgung family is troubled by my accomplishment.'
'If only I hadn't suffered so terribly and experienced inner demons as a result.'
The price he'd paid for transcending his limits had caused lasting harm to his meridian points.
Nevertheless.
'For the Namgung family to be so concerned with a mere third-rate family like mine—it seems that's the secret behind your clan's reputation.'
Cheon-yeong only responded with a bitter smile.
'Jiangsu and Anhui provinces are too close. We can't afford to ignore you.'
'So, by removing the mask, you're making it clear you intend to kill me?'
'It's also a show of respect for you.'
'Do you have the confidence to kill me?'
'...'
Though Cheon-yeong didn't answer, his silence was confirmation enough. As the heir of the Namgung family, he was often predicted to become the future "Supreme Sword of the World."
'A talent who's surpassed even his father, the Supreme Sword of the Namgung family.'
Seeing the young man's calm resolve, Yang-hui decided to put all his strength into this one final match.
'Fine. Then let's see who the true Supreme Sword of the Martial World is.'
For the first time in a long while, Yang-hui let go of his self-imposed limitations, summoning every ounce of his energy.
"I've spent eighteen years perfecting the Gaecheon Sword of my family," Yang-hui said, his lips twisting into a bold grin. "If the Emperor Sword Form represents the pinnacle of swordsmanship, then this will be the perfect chance to prove it."
With that, Yang-hui propelled himself toward Namgung Cheon-yeong.
Chae Ae-Aeng!
A fierce duel for survival had begun, marked by an electrifying first clash of blades.