The World's Greatest is Dead

Poison Dragon was carried off by martial artists to receive treatment and vanished from sight.

Tang Yeran disappeared as well after receiving confinement as punishment from Poison King, and in the now-still atmosphere, no one opened their mouth.

The uncomfortable silence dragged on. No one dared to speak carelessly, so everyone forcibly kept their mouths shut.

Sssk.

Poison King, who’d been staring straight ahead, turned his back and looked our way.

More precisely, he looked toward the three from Blue Moon Sect and Murong Yeongsun.

His expressionless face made me flinch for just a moment without realizing it.

“In the midst of your busy schedules, you showed such generosity by attending this banquet, only for it to be ruined like this. I offer my apologies.”

Poison King spoke and bowed his waist. At that, Cheon Eujin and Do Hyeong’s eyes widened.

“N-not at a—”

Do Hyeong hurried to answer, but I raised a hand and stopped him.

“I accept your apology.”

“...!”

I spoke flatly, and this time both of their gazes snapped toward me.

The surprise in their eyes was pretty memorable, but this wasn’t the time to be staring back.

I could see others around us flinch at my words as well.

So what. They’re the ones in the wrong this time.

Whether the other side was the Tang Clan Head or one of the Five Kings Under Heaven—I didn’t care.

What mattered was that he’d handed us the justification.

Poison King knew that too. That’s why even at my attitude, he didn’t show any wavering.

“Young Master Bang.”

“Please speak.”

“Whether to continue this banquet or not, we shall follow the Clan Head’s will. If you choose to, we are willing to remain and attend.”

That part was half a lie. Honestly, I wanted this boring, uncomfortable banquet over with.

“After that, would you be able to spare me some time?”

In other words, would he meet me alone once the banquet ended.

Poison King’s brows creased faintly at that. He’d probably realized it.

What I was planning to say to him.

His eyes narrowed.

Was he curious how I’d figured it out? Or was he surprised that I’d noticed at all?

Either way was fine.

Poison King reacting like this actually made things better for me.

“...Time, you say.”

He fell into thought for a moment. No—the man pretended to think.

His answer had probably been decided the moment I opened my mouth.

Proving that, Poison King soon nodded.

“Very well.”

Right after giving his assent, he turned his head to look at the Tang household members and spoke.

“The banquet will continue. I hope our guests will enjoy themselves a while longer. However, I have matters to attend to and must take my leave early, so I beg your understanding.”

Finishing, Poison King gave us a polite nod and began to walk away.

I watched him for a moment, then spoke.

“Looks like I have to follow him, so I’ll be back in a bit.”

“...Will you be all right?”

Do Hyeong stared worriedly at the bandages on my arm.

I snorted.

“What wouldn’t be all right about it? Don’t worry.”

To be blunt, yeah, I was scared.

But what could I do.

Time to do what I have to do.

I had business of my own.

To be precise—

Time to carve off what I can.

It was a situation where I was well within my rights to extract profit from the Tang Clan.

****

I followed Poison King into the building. Once we stepped into an unlit corridor, he gave a light wave of his hand.

And then—

FWOOSH—!!

...Whoa.

Flames bloomed to life in the wall-mounted lanterns.

I stared, fascinated. So this was Threefold True Flame?

They said great masters could spark fire bare-handed. Turned out that was real.

[A petty trick, nothing more. Don’t gawk at it like some country bumpkin. Tsk tsk.]

As if he’d been waiting, Yoo Cheongil clicked his tongue.

Can’t I be a little impressed? Guy’s temperament is rotten as ever.

Creak.

We passed through the corridor and entered the Clan Head’s room. Counting this, it was my third visit.

Poison King naturally took his seat, and I followed, sitting in the chair opposite him.

“So now I should be calling you Little Sword Saint, should I?”

That was the first thing out of his mouth.

I let out an awkward laugh.

So he’d heard too.

“It’s an excessive epithet. It’ll die down before long anyway.”

“...?”

Poison King looked at me like I’d said something strange.

What was with that look?

“You think it will die down?”

“Wouldn’t it?”

“Hm... is that so.”

He nodded. He didn’t look convinced; his expression was... odd.

“...Clan Head?”

“I’m curious why Young Master Bang asked to see me alone.”

I’d been about to ask what was with that face, but Poison King cut in.

It was a bit annoying, but it wasn’t worth nitpicking, so I let it slide.

“...I believe Clan Head already knows why I requested a private audience.”

“Who can say.”

He put on a face like he didn’t.

Was he trying to play dumb?

“Quite a few things come to mind. Which one is it?”

Ha.

So he wasn’t playing dumb—he was throwing it straight back at me.

The man clearly knew.

That I had a lot to say to him.

He didn’t look like he wanted to drag the conversation out.

Which honestly worked in my favor.

So I also spoke without hesitation.

“The pavilion, Heaven-Breaking Palace, compensation, and finally, using Poison Dragon earlier to test me. Which of those would you like to discuss first?”

“...”

The words came out without a hitch. Unsurprisingly, Poison King narrowed his eyes at the fourth topic.

Silence followed.

I waited for his reaction.

I didn’t say a single word until he did.

Time flowed like that.

“...I see.”

Poison King finally responded.

The problem was—

“I’ve thought this before...”

What came out of his mouth afterward—

“but it seems clear now... Young Master Bang resembles your maternal grandfather far more than I realized.”

“...Sorry?”

Wasn’t quite the reaction I’d been expecting.

I’d heard more than enough comments about looking like my family.

I’d gotten plenty of “You look just like your father,” and “You resemble your grandfather,” too.

“My maternal grandfather?”

Out of nowhere?

At my response, Poison King tilted his head slightly.

“Jegal Jin. You certainly resemble him far more than your father.”

“...Huh?”

[...Hm?]

At his words, not just me but even Yoo Cheongil, who’d been quiet, seemed to glitch out.

****

SPLASH.

An old man walked across a floor slick with moisture. One-armed, he held his remaining hand clasped behind his back.

With frost-rimed eyes, he surveyed his surroundings as he walked.

Splash. Splash.

Each step landed with a wet sound, but it wasn’t water.

The once-dry ground was soaked thick with bright red blood.

The blood didn’t just wet the floor—it filled it.

The old man trampled through it without a second thought.

He didn’t care. Didn’t mind. Didn’t spare it a single nerve.

Of course. He was the one who had created this scene.

Then—

“Kh... guh...”

A man in one corner hacked blood and let out a ragged groan.

The sound drew the old man’s gaze.

By the time the man realized it, the old man was already standing right in front of him.

“Kk... huuuu...”

In an instant, the distance had vanished. Fear seeped into the man’s eyes as he grasped his situation.

“Wh... why... why are you...”

Why had such a monster appeared here.

“Sword Emperor... why are you...”

“Shh.”

At the mention of his epithet, the old man raised his thin, withered index finger to his lips.

“Be quiet.”

The man’s mouth snapped shut at the warning.

It wasn’t his own will. With the old man’s words, his mouth had been forced closed.

“I have not given you permission to speak yet.”

Rrrrrmm.

At his words, a vibration rippled through the blood-soaked ground.

Swords that had been lying on the floor began to hum, then slowly lifted into the air.

“...!!”

The man, mouth clamped shut, trembled.

It was a grotesque sight.

Dozens of swords rose, leaving the corpses of their dead masters and drifting up into the air.

They circled through the cramped space.

Countless blades floated and swam through the air, forming a scene beyond description.

Sword Emperor.

Or the World’s Greatest Sword.

Because of the godlike existence called Sword Saint, he had never been named Zenith Under the Heavens.

But when it came to handling the sword, he was called the greatest in all the world.

The Heaven-Beyond-Heaven of the orthodox factions, the one who’d controlled hundreds of swords on the battlefield to slaughter demonic cultivators.

Facing that man directly, the survivor could feel nothing but fear.

Every companion who’d been here was dead without exception.

He alone remained.

But—

He already knew his own fate as well.

WHUUM—! WHUUM—!!

Between the drifting blades, the old man opened his mouth again.

“I will ask you a question.”

At that, the tension around the man’s mouth loosened.

“Where is the Palace Lord?”

“...”

Even if he could speak, it wasn’t something he could answer.

At this point, there was only one thing he could say.

“...Just... kill me...”

“...”

Maybe because the answer didn’t please him, the old man’s expression twisted a little.

“Hm.”

But as if he’d expected this from the start, he lost interest quickly.

“A shame.”

SHUK—!

A sword flashed in and severed the man’s neck.

His corpse dropped lightly to the floor.

More blood spilled out, adding to the pool.

SPLASH.

Having killed the final survivor, the old man turned away and walked toward another part of the cavern.

Toward the table that occupied the space.

He picked up the stack of letters gathered there and skimmed through them.

“...”

After checking a few, he let out a dry breath.

Nothing but cipher.

Of course they’d made it so it couldn’t be easily read.

His eyes sharpened as he tried to decode them, but he gave up before long.

This level of cipher couldn’t be unraveled on the spot, and in any case it wasn’t within his abilities.

“...”

Knowing that, Sword Emperor tucked the letters into his robe.

Still, it wasn’t as if there was no harvest.

He’d finally found the trail of the ones who’d eluded him for years.

It was a shame he couldn’t squeeze more information out of them.

But with a restriction seal on these men, torture wouldn’t have worked anyway.

With such a seal in place, there was no way to draw information about the Palace Lord he sought.

He’d killed them without wasting time.

“Hm.”

Not bad.

“Looks like it was the right call to accept Moon-Line Sword’s commission.”

Yoo Cheongil.

He’d come all this way because that man’s successor had supposedly appeared.

If that claim had been a lie—or even if it had been true but unsatisfactory—

I’d have killed him.

Sword Emperor would have cut ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) off his head without hesitation.

For now, at least.

For now, he could watch a little longer.

After all, it was that kid who had led him to these people. Even without that—

He’s hiding something.

For what he shows, he’s got more tucked away.

Whether that “successor” talk is true or not—he really does resemble that part.

Yoo Cheongil.

That man had been full of secrets too.

So was his successor any different?

The thought made the old man chuckle faintly.

In that moment—

CLANG—! CLANG CLANG! CLANG!

The dozens of hovering swords all clattered to the floor at once.

Blood splashed everywhere, but not a single drop touched the old man—as if he were a ghost.

Without a backward glance, he strode toward the cave entrance.

His thoughts were fixed on the letters now.

And it seemed he had another stop to make.

If the cipher was the problem and he couldn’t decode it—

All he had to do was find someone who could.

The problem was...

Do I really have to go look at that annoying face.

He found the person he’d need to visit deeply distasteful.

...Jegal Jin.

The old man silently recalled a name.

Thousand-Mile True Sight.

The current head of the Jegal Clan—

And the man once called the eyes and ears of Sword Saint.