Because of my past-life experiences and the fortuitous encounters of this life, my ability to discern martial skill has risen. Watching the commander of the Special Task Force, even the fleeting movements left an impression.

The men who clashed with Im Sobaek’s weapon were falling like children tripping over themselves.

It was as if Im Sobaek instinctively knew where to strike in a split second to send his opponents flying.

Easier said than done—doing that consistently in the middle of combat is no small feat.

Yet most of the time, his enemies, even while still gripping their weapons, were launched away, or their weapons broke like cheap chopsticks, spraying blood.

It amazed me every time.

Then again, that greatsword had given even the Sword Demon trouble, so maybe it was only natural.

In any case, it was an unusual sword technique.

Im Sobaek led the charge in the breakthrough formation, and it was clear no one could ambush him from behind. The Special Task Force had taken position at the Lord’s rear and eliminated any blind spots. At a glance, it even looked like the subordinates were fighting better than their leader.

That was also true when Im Sobaek fought the Sword Demon.

His greatsword technique was simple to the point of appearing dull, completely devoid of flair.

Maybe that’s why his subordinates looked more skilled by comparison.

Im Sobaek pierced through the Legalists with his sword, and his team rushed in to clean up afterward. They moved with a level of coordination that had to come from over ten years of joint training.

Strangely, among the forces Chu Myeong had brought, there were a variety of unfamiliar yet high-level martial artists. Im Sobaek seemed to deliberately target only the top fighters and tore through them mercilessly.

What should I call this?

Like the fullness you feel after slurping down a pot of bone broth.

Suddenly, Dan Hyuksan and the other Special Task Force members caught up behind me and muttered just loud enough for me to hear.

“Lord, we’ve got your back.”

Just like the commander, now I had allies guarding my rear. I hadn’t expected just two people behind me to make such a difference. I copied the breakthrough formation I had memorized from Im Sobaek.

Now that I think about it, this is exactly when the Dokgo Heavy Sword suits best.

I finally understood the Sword Demon’s feelings.

The defeat he suffered at the Jade Hand Villa must have been what continued to provoke him. Watching Im Sobaek fight so skillfully had lit a similar fire in me. Sometimes, even mid-fight, I find myself lost in thought—this was one of those moments.

With the Martial Alliance mixed into the battlefield, I couldn’t use the Sun-Moon Radiance. I tried to break through the battlefield like Im Sobaek using my wooden sword, infused with internal wood energy, but every enemy I ran into turned out to be a high-level fighter.

“Goddammit...”

After killing three or four, I realized Chu Myeong had intentionally gathered only the strongest with his poisoned heart. After dealing with five or six, I encountered a seventh—an utterly unremarkable man, so plain it was boring. The moment our eyes met, he smiled faintly.

“So you’re the famous Lord of Haomun.”

I deflected his sword and replied.

“And you are?”

The boring-looking man hesitated slightly but soon ramped up into a brutal, fast sword style. He was as fast as that butcher I killed before.

Even while deflecting his sword, I couldn’t help but think how absurd this was.

Martial trends come and go in Jianghu—is fast swordplay in vogue now?

As I parried his blade and launched a counterattack, even the man’s previously dull face showed emotion.

“The rumors weren’t exaggerated after all.”

Some people like to talk mid-fight—he was one of them. Not that I’m any different.

“What’re you mumbling about, you dumbass?”

When our swords locked and wouldn’t separate, I clashed shoulders with him.

Thud!

Suddenly, Dan Hyuksan leapt out from behind and beheaded the dull man, moving forward swiftly.

I shivered.

These were warriors trained so ruthlessly that the so-called etiquette of one-on-one duels in Jianghu didn’t apply.

If anything, the ones who fought most like the Demonic Cult were the Martial Alliance.

Maybe we became similar just to survive.

The dull man died wearing a startled expression. A moment later, a comrade covering my rear urged me on, thinking my movements had slowed.

“Lord, stay focused.”

Who the hell was talking down to me?

I turned to look and saw a veteran fighter at least three or four years older than Im Sobaek clashing with Legalist martial artists.

Then a familiar voice called out my name, carrying all kinds of emotions.

“Lord of Haomun.”

Scholar Chu had closed the distance in an instant and swung his sword, cloaked in a whirlwind.

Clang!

The moment I blocked it, pain shot through my wrist. I gritted my teeth and clashed with Scholar Chu again.

He sneered.

“Bringing the Martial Alliance with you—cunning bastard.”

I laughed off his words. I didn’t bring them. And judging by his tone, he didn’t know the commander himself was also fighting. I had no intention of borrowing the commander’s name, so I stayed silent and swung my sword.

If my wrist ached this much, then Scholar Chu’s pierced palm must be in worse shape.

Fighting is, like life, a constant cycle of pain.

Scholar Chu was too strong for just wood energy alone, so I infused flame energy into the wooden sword and used Moonshadow Art for my palm technique.

When we clashed...

The surrounding fighters, friend and foe alike, gave us space.

Chu Myeong’s blade emitted an untraceable arc of slicing winds, and I was spreading cold energy. No wonder they kept their distance.

After ten or so intense seconds, I noticed my clothes had been torn. I’d dodged a fatal hit, but I couldn’t avoid having my clothes shredded by his sword wind. In the middle of swinging my sword, I asked:

“Comrade Chu Myeong, have you seen the Heretic?”

I couldn’t speak much—my breathing was ragged. Scholar Chu swung his blade with lethal intent as he answered.

“I haven’t.”

“Whoever wins, let’s kill the Heretic too.”

“Why?”

I couldn’t reply right away—I was busy deflecting his sword. Sparks bloomed and vanished within the whirlwind we created.

When I wrapped thunder energy from Hundred Battles, Ten Layers into my wooden sword with a loud zzzzzt, Chu Myeong switched to defense. That gave me time to speak again.

“You saw my house.”

“I did.”

“If that’s how orphans are treated, then what’s the point of the law?”

His expression turned bitter.

“...Fine. I’ll find him and kill him.”

I smiled as I deflected his blade.

“Good. That’s my comrade.”

“I don’t walk the same path as you.”

“You can hate me, even kill me...”

I slashed diagonally with flame energy and said:

“...but the law should be fair.”

We fell silent and resumed fighting. With words abandoned, our attacks grew heavier, more lethal.

Chu Myeong suddenly unleashed a torrent of energy from his entire body. His face grew even more murderous. Perhaps sensing the tide turning, he aimed to end things quickly. His sword style was balanced and tight, like a straight-A student who built a strong foundation step by step.

True to his scholar roots, he must’ve mastered countless sword techniques and synthesized them into his own style. I had no choice but to pull out every sword technique I had.

My Plum Blossom Swordplay was useless. I switched to the rarely-used compression style from Infinite Extreme Sword, channeling energy into short bursts. Only then did I realize that both Infinite Extreme Sword and Dokgo Heavy Sword contain the essence of “weight.”

So now, I was compressing energy with the short-sword technique and attacking using the weight principle of Dokgo.

Even so, I couldn’t overpower Scholar Chu.

He had the internal strength and experience to endure it all.

At this rate, even if the Legalists and their forces were all wiped out by the Sword Demon and Im Sobaek, I’d still be stuck fighting Scholar Chu.

If there’s no solution...

Then make one.

Ever since he vowed to kill the Heretic, the possibility of using the Purple Flame Divine Art vanished.

But I’m not about to die for that.

So I reinterpreted the short-sword compression as the principle behind Im Sobaek’s Greatsword.

Imitation is the mother of invention.

Or not. Who knows.

From what I gathered and discussed with the Sword Demon, the Greatsword Style originated from trying not to break a cheap sword—channeling energy into a poor blade until it evolved into a technique.

In short, it’s the sword art of a poor man who couldn’t afford a good blade.

And since I’m a beggar wherever I go in Jianghu, mimicking it came naturally.

I kept injecting short-sword compression into the wooden blade, layering and compressing it again, maintaining the energy on the edge. This wasn’t a Sixfold Battle—it was more like a Threefold Battle technique.

Why go through all this trouble?

I don’t know.

But I had a goal. I knew where to strike.

Every time I clashed swords with Scholar Chu, I pressed the Threefold Battle into his weapon.

My wrist felt like it might snap.

But Chu Myeong’s face also twitched uncontrollably under the strain.

Damn, who knew weight could be so charming?

While fast swordplay seemed trendy in Jianghu these days, I was falling for the allure of heavy swordplay. If you could combine the two, wouldn’t that make you a true swordmaster?

Didn’t Confucius once babble about if you hear the Way in the morning, you can die content by evening?

That doesn’t apply to swordsmen.

If you grasp the sword in the morning, you can eat dinner.

At that moment, I had a revelation.

A life with dinner is one granted only to swordsmen who attain enlightenment.

Too much?

Scholar Chu’s whirlwind assault was so intense, my brain felt like it was being swept by cold winds just trying to block it.

The good thing was, the Martial Alliance’s dazzling torchlight still surrounded me.

Once I got used to the short-sword technique, I reinterpreted the Threefold Battle again. Remembering its essence...

I channeled wood energy into the first strike.

Flame energy into the second as I deflected Chu Myeong’s blade.

Then, compressing both, I injected thunder energy from Hundred Battles, Ten Layers [N O V E L I G H T] into the final blow, aiming to shatter his weapon.

A sound I had never heard before erupted from the clash of our swords.

Crack.

Blood spurted from the back of Scholar Chu’s hand.

Seizing the moment, I launched a Flame Great Palm toward his face. Just before the burning energy hit, his palm arrived like a shield, blocking the flame.

BOOM!

His sword hand and his blocking hand crossed paths.

He met me in the exact same stance and locked eyes.

Though only a moment passed, it felt like we’d been locked in that gaze for an eternity.

We both laughed at the same time.

Because we were doing everything we could just to survive.

Chu Myeong said,

“You’ve grown stronger, Lord.”

I nodded slightly.

“To survive, you’ve got no choice but to grow.”

Our joined hands trembled beyond control. Maybe it’s true—those closest to me after friends... are my enemies.

Only after clashing internal energy did I realize that Chu Myeong’s martial foundation was built on pure, orthodox inner strength.

We were holding out with our swords.

When I glanced down slightly, I saw blood still gushing from the back of Chu Myeong’s hand. It was the same wound I’d pierced before, reopened now by the Threefold Battle.

Still, he endured.

Neither of us cared about our surroundings. If his men interfered, the Martial Alliance would stop them—and they wouldn’t stoop to low tricks either.

Thanks to that, we could fight without interruption.

No matter who died, it would be a battle without regrets—both his eyes and my heart knew that.

Even while gritting his teeth, Chu Myeong laughed.

Maybe losing too much blood drains your strength. With his energy waning and inner strength overused, blood now flowed freely from his smiling mouth.

This was my victory.

And yet, why couldn't I feel happy about it?

Without much expectation, I asked Chu Myeong, who was giving it his all:

“...Comrade, want to try living again?”

Chu Myeong chuckled low and replied,

“Let’s stop insulting each other.”

I met his eyes and nodded.

“You’re right.”

I could kill him—but I couldn’t break his pride. I pushed back the staggering Scholar Chu, giving him space to unleash his final technique.

I didn’t even know why.

But I wanted to receive his last strike.

Chu Myeong, now retreating, raised his sword. A grey whirlwind surrounded the blade as he swung down vertically.

At the same time, I poured all the power of Hundred Battles, Ten Layers into my wooden sword and performed the lightning blade technique I had once completely abandoned.

They say sword energy turns into thunder and rain—how was I supposed to pull that off?

But now, I could.

The lightning that surged from my wooden sword tore through Chu Myeong’s storm.