The World's Greatest is Dead

DRIP. DRIP.

The spectators—who should’ve been loud for the entire bout—had fallen silent.

No one could react easily.

Shock and confusion clung thickly to their faces.

It couldn’t be helped.

“Was Miracle Sword always that strong...?”

A frail junior martial artist who’d supposedly climbed this far on luck.

A man people mocked, calling him Miracle Sword.

And yet he was trading blades with the monster called the strongest of the junior generation—Sword Phoenix Yuyeon—as if it were nothing.

“He’s not getting pushed back.”

“He’s even counterattacking.”

“...Are you saying Miracle Sword [N O V E L I G H T] was hiding his strength?”

Sword Phoenix had taken the top spot from her very first appearance, slaughtering geniuses left and right.

But Miracle Sword was putting on a display that looked almost even against her.

At first it seemed like he might be getting pressed—

“Isn’t this the first time Sword Phoenix has struggled like this?”

“She’s the one who beat even Black-Grand Saber in a single stroke...”

How many exchanges had it been already?

CLATTER—! CLATTER CLATTER!

At the very least, it was already several. The Sword Phoenix who ended things in one strike was meeting Baek Cheonin’s blade again and again.

And—

“Fast.”

“How can it be that fast?”

It was insane speed. A feast of velocity you couldn’t see in any junior generation fight until now.

CREEEAK—!!!

When sparks burst in the air, the swords were already somewhere else.

The distance was close, and there wasn’t a hint of hesitation in their swings.

If you said it a little too strongly, it was fast enough that sound couldn’t keep up.

“...Haa... Hahaha!”

WAAAAAA!

The roar they’d been holding back exploded out. Mouths that had been sealed by disbelief opened again in exhilaration.

Miracle Sword! Miracle Sword!

The one they’d thought was weak revealed a true face he’d been hiding.

It was the kind of sight that made people burn with excitement.

Sword Phoenix, who had never once lost.

A newcomer they’d assumed was frail—standing against her.

As the crowd fell into a frenzy, screaming and focusing like mad—

I had to stare up at the tournament stage with my face stiff as stone.

‘...Seriously, he’s disgustingly fast.’

How the hell can a human move like that? And even moving that fast, there isn’t a single wobble.

This is a different level of bout. The moment I realized it, I swallowed dryly.

‘...If I were up there...’

Could I even fight them? Either Yuyeon or Baek Cheonin.

‘No—Yuyeon aside...’

What the hell is Baek Cheonin? That bastard fought way better than I expected.

I knew he was hiding something, so I figured he had a card—

But I didn’t think it would be that.

“AHAHAHA—!”

Beside me, Black-Grand Saber—watching the match too—burst into laughter.

“So that bastard was ridiculous.”

Black-Grand Saber’s eyes as he watched Baek Cheonin turned chilling.

He kept laughing like he’d discovered something fascinating. Every time I saw this lunatic, his reactions were new.

“If nothing else, he seemed like a bad omen... AHAHAHA!!! He’s a fun one. What’s his name? Baek Cheonyong, was it?”

“It’s Baek Cheonin.”

“Ah. Right. That.”

So he hadn’t even remembered the name. He’d acted like he didn’t care, then the second the guy showed skill, he turned into a different person.

In a way, it was clean—almost honest.

Of course—

‘Even I think it’s impressive.’

I hated admitting it, but that fight was exceptional.

I’d fought Thunder Dragon and Wudang Cloud Dragon myself—

‘But it wasn’t like this.’

This wasn’t that kind of bout. This was less a fight and more a rehearsed play.

Like they’d matched their rhythm in advance—an endless chain of flawless exchanges.

Which meant it was a spectacle of perfect movements.

How can they fight like that? It’s vicious, like neither side will show even a sliver of an opening—

And just watching the countless feints and calculations inside it made my head ache.

As I narrowed my eyes—

[Those who can see are really having fun, aren’t they.]

Yoo Cheongil spoke. I couldn’t help showing a puzzled reaction.

‘Those who can see?’

Since I was clearly confused, Yoo Cheongil added an explanation.

[Kid. Do you know what’s most important for a martial artist?]

‘Most important?’

I dunno. I thought about it like I was actually considering.

What’s most important for a martial artist?

Inner power? They’re all raising their strength through internal arts, so inner power felt like the answer—

But then—

‘To hold that, your body matters too.’

In the end you carry and use inner power with your body.

So maybe physical conditioning was the most important—

Right as I was thinking that—

[For a martial artist, the most important thing is the eyes.]

Yoo Cheongil gave an answer I didn’t expect.

‘Eyes?’

Eyes? As in what you see?

[Martial arts are learned that way. Experiencing them with your own body is the best method. That truth doesn’t change.]

Sure. You use martial arts with your body, not your mouth.

[But if you’re not a man who buries himself alone behind some mountain training day and night—if you’re someone who moves in the Central Plains—then the eyes become the most important thing.]

Eyes before body.

I had to try to understand what Yoo Cheongil meant.

[Kid. Do you know why I was so obsessed with opening and restructuring Moon Eyes?]

I didn’t. I’d never really thought about it.

[Because the more you can see, the more you can do.]

“.......”

[You have to see what others can’t see first. And you have to understand what they see but fail to realize.]

Yoo Cheongil pointed at the stage as he spoke.

[It means you can’t stop at drawing a sword and swinging it. Fingertip movement. A flicker of the pupils. The results created by tiny motions and links—and even the false openings used to hide them.]

His voice turned heavy, and my focus locked in on it. The vibe was completely different from that sly old man he usually was.

[It starts with what you can see, and it ends there too. That’s why I opened Moon Eyes, and why I intended to activate it even further.]

Opening Moon Eyes.

And laying Moon-Spirit Sword Path over it.

Deeper, wider sight—Moon Eyes existed to show me what I couldn’t see, and even what I didn’t know to look for.

That was what Yoo Cheongil was talking about now.

The value of Moon Eyes was that it let you see more.

But—

[From that perspective... sometimes there are bastards born with eyes that make no sense.]

His finger still pointed at the stage.

[Men who can see what others can’t—and even feel things depending on what they see.]

There was a faint heat inside Yoo Cheongil’s voice.

[Those born with bizarre eyes that appear once every few centuries, if that. We call it being born with Martial Eyes.]

Martial artist eyes.

It was such a simple name it almost sounded ridiculous.

[Looks like those two have them.]

Heh heh heh.

His chuckle mixed into the constant clash of blades.

CLATTER CLATTER—! CLATTER!

That itchy noise in my ears. Black-Grand Saber was silent now, like he’d gone rigid while focusing on the bout—

And I asked the thing I’d wanted to ask, in a low whisper.

“Then you don’t have them... those eyes?”

[Huh?]

If Sword Phoenix and Baek Cheonin were born with Martial Eyes—

Then shouldn’t Yoo Cheongil, who became the strongest under heaven, have them too?

I asked with that doubt—

[Ha.]

Yoo Cheongil let out a dry laugh.

[Unfortunately, my eyes are good, but I’m not on that level.]

That shocked me. The man who climbed all the way to the top didn’t have that kind of talent?

As I stared, still baffled—

[But don’t worry about it.]

He patted my shoulder—despite the fact he couldn’t even touch it.

[Martial Eyes are the greatest talent a martial artist can have. But it doesn’t matter if you don’t have them.]

It doesn’t matter, even without the greatest talent.

Was he saying that because he’d reached the top without them?

That would make sense—

But I had a feeling that wasn’t what he meant.

And right as that thought hit—

Yoo Cheongil spoke.

[Martial Eyes are talent, yes—but they can also be learned after the fact.]

‘What?’

Learned after the fact? Something called talent—how?

I widened my eyes slightly and looked at Yoo Cheongil—

And the finger he’d been using to point at the stage shifted, and pointed at my eye.

[That’s what you’re learning.]

“......!”

[Moon Eyes, that is. No—more precisely, the Moon Eyes I dream of.]

Yoo Cheongil grinned ear to ear.

[Creating artificial Martial Eyes. No—going further than that... a power that lets you see even what cannot be seen.]

Learning Martial Eyes after the fact.

Yoo Cheongil was saying that was what Moon Eyes were meant to be.

*****

SWISH—!!

CRRUNCH!!

Their blades ricocheted and bodies spun. Unable to endure the impact, both sides widened the distance.

Baek Cheonin and Yuyeon scraped across the tournament stage as they separated.

Baek Cheonin regained his stance quickly and rotated his sword.

Whirrr.

The blade turned half a circle and his posture stabilized. The sword qi he’d been holding did too.

‘Refreshing.’

Baek Cheonin lifted the thought and touched the corner of his mouth. Feeling the faint rise there, he forced it down.

‘Damn.’

This isn’t good. It’s not desirable that my body is getting happy on its own.

I shouldn’t enjoy fights.

But it felt like I was going to enjoy this one.

‘Ah...’

I’d expected the place to be packed with nothing but worthless trash—

And yet something like that existed.

The white martial robes were slightly soaked with blood, leaving a red stain.

The wound must’ve been sealed with inner power already, because it wasn’t reacting anymore—and the woman was calm, like she’d never been hurt at all.

They’d fought that violently, and she hadn’t shed a single drop of sweat.

“Incredible.”

Baek Cheonin truly looked at Sword Phoenix again.

“.......”

At the praise, Sword Phoenix looked at him.

Baek Cheonin raised his speed again—

Rustle.

‘Hm?’

In the instant he tried to press in, something flickered past his eyes.

A petal.

He narrowed his eyes at it—

WHACK—!!!

“......!”

His chest was cut. Seeing blood spray, Baek Cheonin spun away.

Because he turned so fast, the wound didn’t go deep.

He reset his footwork and sent his gaze back to Yuyeon—

‘Ha.’

Baek Cheonin’s eyes widened like lanterns.

‘A spectacle.’

The petals that had fallen—

They were blooming brilliantly around Yuyeon.

He knew exactly what that was.

“...So you’re finally going to do it properly?”

That beautiful, soft energy existed only in one place in the Central Plains.

‘Plum blossoms.’

The Plum Blossom Sword Unit of Mount Hua Sect.

Those whose Mount Hua internal art had taken root in their bodies and truly bloomed.

They said the shape of the energy they unleashed looked like plum petals—

‘That’s not an exaggeration.’

It was exactly as described.

And that wasn’t all.

Sssss—

Yuyeon moved slowly.

It looked like the same movement as before—

But—

Sway.

The drifting petals rippled on the wind.

SWISH—!!

“......!!!”

Yuyeon’s sword passed serenely through the petals and flew at Baek Cheonin.

Like a dance.

Plum Blossom Swordsmanship.

They said it was a divine sword art only Mount Hua’s Plum Blossom Sword Unit could use—

WHACK—!

“Ghk!”

Following the petals, his shoulder was cut again.

Baek Cheonin frowned at the pain and tightened his grip.

‘Annoying.’

He didn’t like a body that kept getting injured.

And the situation was even more so.

And on top of that—

‘More.’

He wanted to see more.

Yuyeon advanced, as if she’d become one with the scattered petals.

The atmosphere was completely different from before.

Had she decided to acknowledge him as a worthy opponent?

‘Good.’

He didn’t want to react to something this trivial—

But inside Baek Cheonin, something subtle shifted.

‘...Just a little.’

So just a little.

‘Like that bitch showed.’

Wouldn’t it be fine if I showed just a little too?

With that thought, Baek Cheonin put strength into his dantian.

Throb—!

Energy boiled up.

Ssss—!

“.......”

Yuyeon unleashed sword force. A reddish-purple sword force spread out from her blade.

She hadn’t used sword force once throughout the bout until now.

Baek Cheonin hadn’t either.

Sword qi—then sword force.

Just as he thought that and started to put strength into his blade—

—Young Cult Leader.

“......!”

Baek Cheonin’s body froze.

A voice transmission had reached his ear.

—It’s the wrong choice.

“.......”

A very low, dry voice. Baek Cheonin bit his lip.

—Are you thinking of abandoning the great work? Then I’m disappointed.

As he heard it, Baek Cheonin abruptly lowered his sword.

“......?”

Yuyeon tilted her head at the sight.

At the same time, Baek Cheonin smiled and raised both hands.

“I yield.”

“.......”

Hearing that, Yuyeon’s face twisted in a way you rarely saw.

It was a sudden declaration of defeat.