The World's Greatest is Dead

“I yield.”

“.......”

Baek Cheonin raised both hands and spoke. The words he spat out—low, clear—pierced the air and spread outward as they were.

-.......

Silence brushed past. A few seconds. It couldn’t have been more than that, but it felt far denser, far longer. No reaction came—only the wind drifting lazily by.

-...What?

-He said he yielded? Forfeiting?

-Why—why all of a sudden? What the hell is he saying?

-Don’t lie!

The crowd erupted a beat late. Baek Cheonin, who’d been fighting just fine, suddenly declaring defeat—because of that, the reaction flared up hot.

The match hadn’t even properly ended yet. It was still at its fiercest.

And the opponent was Sword Phoenix.

Baek Cheonin—the one who hadn’t been getting pushed back even against Sword Phoenix, the one called the strongest of the junior generation.

Right when it became obvious he’d been hiding his strength and everyone’s attention had locked onto him—

he suddenly declared defeat.

-Pick your sword back up!

-Don’t give up!

Voices that turned their disappointment into anger multiplied without pause.

It sounded like boos might break out at any second.

‘What the hell?’

Watching it, I didn’t understand either.

‘He’s forfeiting? Now?’

Did he run out of energy? No. It didn’t look like that. Baek Cheonin’s breathing wasn’t even shaking.

He didn’t look short on strength, and he didn’t look tired.

And yet he said he was yielding—so not just everyone else, even I couldn’t make sense of it.

‘What is this?’

He’d fought well. Hell, things were just starting to heat up.

How fierce could it get?

And—was Baek Cheonin really a genius who wouldn’t even be pushed back by Yuyeon?

That thought brushed past—

‘Then why?’

Why the hell did he yield?

No matter how I turned it over, I couldn’t understand.

“Did you say you’re yielding?”

“Yes.”

At the referee’s question as he approached, Baek Cheonin slid his sword back into his belt and lifted both hands into the air.

“I yield.”

“Reason?”

“Because I’m tired. I don’t have the strength to keep fighting. I heard she’s called the strongest of the junior generation... and yeah. Turns out I can’t beat her.”

“.......”

The referee didn’t look like he believed him, either. And Yuyeon’s reaction, after hearing that, wasn’t normal at all.

“.......”

‘She’s pissed.’

A face drawn tight, a faint crease between her brows.

I could feel the emotion clearly on her expression. It was the first time I’d ever seen Yuyeon react like that.

Someone who always kept her face blank, showing something that rough—so much that it almost didn’t feel real.

‘She knows, too.’

That he could’ve gone further—he could’ve, and he still just yielded.

Everyone watching knew it, and there was no way Yuyeon didn’t.

But—

‘Huh?’

I saw Baek Cheonin’s expression change for an instant as he looked at Yuyeon like that.

It was only a blink, but I felt irritation in it. Like—

‘Like he wanted to keep going.’

Like he hadn’t planned to end the spar, either.

Baek Cheonin turned his face away in that same instant, but the expression he’d worn just then was unmistakably that.

‘What the hell.’

What was that? What the hell was the reason?

Why did Baek Cheonin yield?

I couldn’t understand, so I just stared at the tournament stage—

“Confirmed.”

Once the words left his own mouth, the result was decided.

“Shaanxi Baek Clan’s Baek Cheonin. Defeat. Mount Hua Sect’s Yuyeon. Victory.”

Baek Cheonin had yielded.

And because of that, Sword Phoenix won.

It was the most unpleasant win since this Dragon-Phoenix Gathering began—

but the spar ended like that.

*****

After the spar ended, dissatisfaction still drifted from the crowd.

That also meant the disappointment about Baek Cheonin—who gave up—was just that big.

The arrival of a new sacred talent.

A junior-generation martial artist who’d been hiding his strength even while being mocked as Miracle Sword.

There were plenty of questions about why he’d kept it hidden and never shown it, but in the end, people didn’t really care.

Nothing stoked heat like the appearance of a hidden sacred talent.

So the disappointment doubled, too.

A sacred talent showing up was great, but he’d snuffed out the fire he’d just built up.

‘But.’

Even so, the core of the situation hadn’t changed.

-So that Miracle Sword—

-In reality...

The whole world was talking about Miracle Sword.

Right now, every gaze and every conversation was focused on Baek Cheonin.

Someone who showed up out of nowhere, someone who could stand against the “monster” called Sword Phoenix.

Everything that had happened tangled together and drew attention.

That was Baek Cheonin’s state right now.

“He was a weird bastard.”

Black-Grand Saber Peng Dojin said it beside me as we watched.

“More interesting than he looks.”

He kept digging at his ear as he spoke. Weirdly, the words were full of interest—but there was another strange note in them, too.

“But it pisses me off.”

That was probably why.

“I’m sure I wanna fight him... but I don’t wanna fight him. Is it not fun? That’s not it either. Right?”

He spoke like even he didn’t understand. While I listened to him, I was looking somewhere else.

“No idea. I don’t really know.”

As I gave Black-Grand Saber a lazy answer, someone approached.

It was Yuyeon.

“Oh! Sword Phoenix. You’re back.”

Black-Grand Saber spotted her and waved.

Yuyeon glanced at him, then turned her eyes back to me.

She came closer. When the distance closed to about three steps, I spoke.

“You okay?”

“.......”

Yuyeon nodded. She was saying she was fine, but her expression still looked like shit.

“Yeah. You did good.”

Even watching her like that, that was all I had to say. We weren’t close enough for comfort, and in the end, she won.

“.......”

Maybe that was enough. Yuyeon just kept nodding.

But—

“Okay my ass. That ended boring as hell—no way she’s okay.”

The one reacting more was Black-Grand Saber.

“He could’ve shown more. To disrespect someone like that.”

His scowl showed that even he felt uncomfortable.

Disrespect—Black-Grand Saber was seeing it like Baek Cheonin had looked down on Sword Phoenix.

Whatever the reason, people watching could’ve felt it that way.

For a martial artist, giving up when you can still go on is your choice—

but.

‘They say it feels like you’re ignoring the other person.’

I can’t relate, but that’s how it is for them.

So that’s why Yuyeon didn’t look pleased.

‘And.’

Maybe because of that—

‘That old man doesn’t look pleased either.’

The one floating in the air right now with his face hardened.

Yoo Cheongil didn’t look good, either.

“.......”

What was he thinking? Yoo Cheongil was staring at Baek Cheonin with those blue eyes dimmed.

Eyes that were always shining looked like their color had faded, darkened.

In a sensation like the night sky was a deep sea, Yoo Cheongil sank deep into thought.

‘Did he see something?’

In that situation just now, Yoo Cheongil saw something I didn’t.

That’s why the old man’s reaction wasn’t normal.

And watching it, a helpless anxiety swelled up.

Usually, when he made that face—

‘It means something’s about to blow up.’

Because without fail, trouble blew up.

‘What kind of bullshit is about to happen now.’

I swallowed dryly with that pathetic anxiety rising—

“Next fighters, prepare.”

The referee spoke.

“Mm.”

Black-Grand Saber reacted. He grinned and looked at me.

“Tomorrow. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“.......”

Before I could even answer, he spoke with glittering eyes, then hauled his massive frame up onto the tournament stage.

This bout was Black-Grand Saber’s turn.

Whether that was lucky or not, his opponent wasn’t me.

The problem was—

‘......Of all people, it’s him.’

Black-Grand Saber’s opponent was Do Hyeong.

Do Hyeong had been standing opposite him and was stepping up onto the stage as well.

With the blue eyes of Moon Eyes lit, Do Hyeong climbed onto the stage—

and our eyes met at a distance. He nodded at me like a greeting.

I gave a small wave back and thought,

‘How’s this going to go?’

Do Hyeong was strong. At least as far as I knew, he was stronger than Tang Cheon-il—and that meant Do Hyeong was truly strong at the Seven Prodigies level.

It was weird he wasn’t known until now.

‘But can he handle Black-Grand Saber?’

The opponent was Black-Grand Saber.

No matter how much of a genius Do Hyeong was, could he really deal with him?

I was curious—and worried.

‘Tch.’

I checked that no one was around. Then I lifted my head and looked at Yoo Cheongil and asked.

“Old man.”

[.......]

No answer. I called again.

“Old man. Old man.”

[......Mm.]

Only after I called a couple more times did Yoo Cheongil respond.

“About this bout—can my senior win—”

[Kid.]

“Huh?”

Right as I was about to ask, Yoo Cheongil cut me off.

[Go back to the inn. Right now.]

“......What?”

He suddenly threw out something insane. Go back to the inn? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“What kind of bullshit—”

[Go back and bring the Divine Sword. I don’t know if you’ll ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) need it, but it looks like you might.]

“......What?”

Go get the Divine Sword I shoved in the drawer.

That aside—

‘Might need it?’

My brow narrowed hard at that last part.

*****

While the martial tournament was in full swing—

SPLASH.

Someone walked through a cold, damp basement. An old man with a huge frame.

It was the Martial Alliance Leader, Divine Spear.

Expressionless, he went down the stairs and passed into a corridor.

A dark space laid out in a long line.

He walked and walked through a space packed with bars, until he reached a spot.

A tucked-away corner. A small cell.

Inside it, he saw a youth slumped down.

“Namgung Clan’s Namgung Seong.”

Divine Spear spoke as he looked at the youth.

At the call, Namgung Seong slowly raised his head.

“.......”

Meeting that gaze, Divine Spear’s eyes shifted slightly.

He looked utterly wrecked.

With almost no color left in his face, there was no eye-light at all. 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

It felt like a corpse was moving.

Seeing that, Divine Spear clenched the hand he’d had open.

It was a familiar sight.

A sight he’d seen everywhere during the Orthodox-Demonic War.

Miserable. Disgusting.

A shape he never wanted to see again was right in front of him.

“I’ll ask.”

“.......”

Divine Spear asked Namgung Seong.

“Who made you like this.”

“.......”

There was certainty in his voice.

Certainty that Namgung Seong hadn’t become this on his own.

A hard conviction that someone else had done this to him.

But—

“......The Heaven...... will...... be revived.......”

Ever since being locked up, Namgung Seong only repeated the same words.

“.......”

Divine Spear’s eye-light was about to sink at the sight—

“Alliance Leader.”

A man appeared across the corridor, almost running up.

An Alliance staff member who’d been interrogating Namgung Seong.

“......We’ve sent word to the Namgung Clan. The strategist is meeting Thunder Dragon right now, and if contact goes through, we expect Sword King himself will arrive.”

“.......”

The Namgung Clan’s Clan Head. Sword King.

If his child ended up like this, he’d come to Henan himself.

And with this tied to the Demon Cult, the Namgung Clan would have to react violently.

“Information.”

“......There isn’t any yet. We haven’t been able to conduct a proper interrogation. If you allow it—”

“Not yet.”

“......Understood.”

He’d been about to say he’d torture him if needed and find out. Divine Spear cut him off.

That isn’t something torture solves.

No one knew that better than Divine Spear.

‘.......’

What the hell happened?

As Divine Spear narrowed his eyes—

“Ah, and also...”

The Alliance staff member speaking pulled something from his robe.

“The strategist said what he investigated has been confirmed, and told me to report it to you.”

“.......”

Divine Spear took the letter and checked it.

In that instant—

GRIT.

A harsh sound came from the corner of Divine Spear’s mouth.

The letter was a confirmation report about the Baek Clan—the same clan he’d already heard information about.

At that, strength packed into Divine Spear’s eyes.

“The Heaven...... the Heaven...... will...... be revived.......”

Namgung Seong repeated the same words again and again.

Staring at the empty ceiling, as if there was nothing else in the world.