The World's Greatest is Dead

‘...What?’

My eyes widened at the old man’s words. What did this geezer just say?

I wanted to ask aloud, but with the Moonlit Sword in front of me, I couldn’t even open my mouth.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“No, it’s nothing.”

I rolled my eyes toward Yoo Cheongil, but he only met my look with that special, infuriating smile of his.

[ Tsk, tsk. That face is worth seeing. You look marvelously startled. ]

He just watched me and laughed, as if a man’s ruin didn’t concern him.

What the hell are you playing at...?

I tried stabbing him with a glare full of curses, but the old man’s grin only deepened.

[ Why? Are you flustered because I said I won’t help? ]

Of course I’m flustered, you crazy old—

[ Judging by those eyeballs, you’re letting loose a fine string of curses inside. ]

So quick on the uptake, and yet suddenly throwing a tantrum. I couldn’t make sense of it.

[ Don’t look at me with such resentful eyes. ]

Don’t make me laugh.

Then how should I look at you right now? Who do you think I’m suffering like this for, and what— you won’t help?

I was speechless.

[ It’s about time we confirm it properly. ]

Confirm what? As I stared, puzzled, Yoo Cheongil added,

[ That you can handle this much on your own. You need to confirm that too, don’t you. ]

‘...What...’

Do it alone without the old man’s help?

I thought it was nonsense. How many days has it even been since the internal art settled in my body—what could I possibly do?

I had no confidence at all.

But—

“In that case, I will look forward to it.”

Damn it.

The blasted situation was already rolling. I was standing at the cliff’s edge—

—and that mad old man shoved me off.

****

When they say prove it, what are you supposed to do?

Especially when it’s proof of qualification?

If you boil it down, it’s showing the value of an existence. Simply that.

The value this existence—I—hold.

Whether I’m someone who can keep the words I’ve spoken.

This was the act of showing that.

Honestly...

Up to here, fine. If they want me to show it, I’ll show it.

Because I had the vile spirit named Yoo Cheongil, the Sword Saint.

He could possess me for no more than a heartbeat—

—but even that instant was enough.

Hate him and curse him as I might, in this lane I had to concede it.

He’s on a different level.

The life he’s walked and the worth of the soul he carries are different. I still can’t be certain he’s truly the Sword Saint, Yoo Cheongil—

—but even if he weren’t, I now knew he had been a colossal master.

Except—

Do it alone...?

If such a man wouldn’t help me, what could I do?

While that question bloomed and branched, I found myself standing on a training ground.

With a live blade in my hand, no less.

The weight settled into my palm, and I felt eyes from every direction.

I flicked a glance aside. Not will-o’-wisps—just chilling stares.

At their head was the Moonlit Sword, with the same men who had interrogated me earlier.

Most of them carried blue pupils, and they were watching as if they wouldn’t miss a single twitch.

...At this rate I’m going to get indigestion.

Just bearing their gaze made my gut feel heavy.

I had to do my utmost not to show the discomfort.

A training ground too broad for one man to stand alone.

Standing there with a single live blade lent a peculiar feeling.

What am I supposed to do?

What was I to do here?

Even as I stood, I didn’t know. So I looked to the Moonlit Sword.

“What would you like me to show?”

“Show what you can.”

Lovely. Such a kind answer. Which, translated, meant satisfy us as you see fit.

Tch.

What I can, he says. As if there were such a thing.

That method only worked because I had the old man.

Without him, what could I do?

With that thought, the questions and the irritation climbed.

What is he thinking?

Why did we spend all night crafting a plan, then?

If he doesn’t help me and things go south, it’s his problem too.

In fact, if he wants what he wants, he should help me.

What’s the angle, old man.

Why pitch me off the cliff?

I couldn’t understand it. I wouldn’t understand it, and I wouldn’t respect it.

My life was on the line—how was I supposed to respect that.

Part of me wanted to say, get in here right now and end this.

...Would that bastard put me up here with no thought at all?

Annoyed as I was, a thought kept circling.

Given that damned old man’s temperament, he wouldn’t toss me up here without a calculation.

What does he want me to do?

A confirmation, he called it.

Confirmation that I can manage at least this much on my own.

He said he wouldn’t help me so I could confirm it.

So what am I supposed to do.

If I can, what can I do?

I didn’t know. I stole a glance around.

...Why are their eyes so murderous?

Another second and sparks would start flying from those stares.

I stifled a sigh and lifted my head.

What I can do.

There had to be something—that’s why he pushed me.

Holding to that, I focused my mind.

What can I do. I closed my eyes and tried to draw it up.

Then—

The moon does not choose the ground where it rises.

Something the old man had once shown me surfaced.

That impossible act—to make a moon with a sword.

The sight from when I smashed the Little Azure Sword.

That moment came back.

How did I do it then... I tightened my grip on the hilt, slowly, as if retracing that time—

—and from that point, my head began to cool.

****

[Tsk, tsk.]

The old man watched the youth’s back and chuckled softly.

[ You grumbled so much, and yet—what an odd brat you are. ]

A moment ago he’d been cursing me to hell with his eyes, and in an instant the air around him shifted.

Seeing that, the old man smiled, satisfied.

[ As expected, an entertaining lad. ]

Truly entertaining.

He’d lived decades and met all kinds of people, but this youth stood out among them.

[ To be able to focus straight away in that situation. ]

Those men were glaring like they’d pounce if they saw so much as a seam.

All the while, everything had been arranged to make a lie pass for truth.

An ordinary man would have crumpled long since, and no one could blame him.

But this youth, Bang Sungyeon, didn’t.

[ He devotes himself only to the situation at hand. ]

No matter what crashed down on him, he kept his reason.

As the saying goes, even in a tiger’s den, if you keep your wits you live.

Bang Sungyeon fits that saying perfectly.

Look.

[ He no longer sees the surroundings. ]

Bang Sungyeon stood with his sword and his eyes closed.

The anxious breathing from a moment before had settled.

The messy flow had been gathered.

[Tsk, tsk.]

The old man smiled, satisfied.

[ You probably don’t know. ]

He didn’t know what value he carried.

And also—

[ I won’t tell you until you realize it yourself. ]

The old man had no intention of telling Bang Sungyeon the worth he bore.

With eyes closed, a faint shimmer began to rise—flow stirring.

Watching the Blue Moon Heart Art’s heat-haze, the old man narrowed his eyes.

The assignment he had given Bang Sungyeon:

Until arriving at the Blue Moon Sect, mimic exactly the internal art he had demonstrated.

There was a catch in those words.

[ That isn’t something you do in mere days. ]

A year at least.

Even with talent well-matched to the Blue Moon Heart Art, about that much.

The old man himself had needed three months to achieve that much.

[ And yet the brat found the feel of it in less than seven days and nights. ]

Bang Sungyeon had found the feel in just a few days.

It beggared belief.

He’d said he simply remembered and copied exactly what his body had experienced?

[ Haha. ]

He tossed off the impossible like it was nothing.

Does he know how many responses a body produces in a single unfolding of movement?

If you’re performing martial technique besides, you must mind the circulation of energy.

And you just memorize that and mimic it?

[ He doesn’t realize how impossible a thing he’s doing. ]

At this point, it was the old man who couldn’t quite understand.

Why had a fellow like that lived as a piddling third-rate.

Even if fortune had not entered his body,

Bang Sungyeon was not someone who should have stalled at third-rate.

Which made certain things... odd.

[ Go on then—show them. ]

For now, something else mattered more.

Those foxes with the suspicious eyes.

What would Bang Sungyeon show them? The old man was curious.

Sssk—

Bang Sungyeon began to move.

Seeing the lowered stance, the charge in his thighs, and the attention to the wrist on the hilt, Yoo Cheongil grinned until his mouth split.

[ You mad brat. ]

Bang Sungyeon’s sword moved.

Vvvrmm—!

A tremor seeped into the tip as it swept, slow. His waist turned, and the blade began to part the air.

[ Hahahahaha—! ]

The old man laughed aloud at the sight.

Over the swing of the sword, another figure overlapped.

Himself.

Bang Sungyeon was fitting Yoo Cheongil into his flesh, and from those fingertips—

[ You’re going to bloom the moon after all. ]

—the moon Yoo Cheongil loved was rising.

The kid who’d been all shrunk up a moment ago was gone.

Skreeee—

One cut.

No more than a single ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) swing.

By time, a heartbeat; by motion, nothing much.

And yet—

“...Huh...”

“...That...”

Those facing Bang Sungyeon’s blade could only drop their jaws.

They too were Blue Moon Sect swordsmen.

There was no way they didn’t know what that single cut was.

Blue Moon Sword Dance. First Form:

Moon Wave.

The first moon you can unfold only after opening the Moon Eyes.

That beautiful sight unfolded from Bang Sungyeon’s hand.

And more—

“Just now... that just now was...”

“His...”

Even if it was the same Blue Moon Sword Dance, they were not all the same.

Only one man could execute a movement so rough and yet so austere.

No—now that even he was gone, they had believed no one alive could.

And such a sword had unfolded from the hand of a youth not even twenty.

It must have been quite a shock; even the Moonlit Sword, who had kept a blank face from the start, showed surprise.

At that moment—

Bang Sungyeon, frozen after unleashing Moon Wave, stirred.

He opened his eyes.

Light pooled in blue pupils, and, perhaps from the afterflow of the internal art, a faint blue aura streamed from his body.

Maybe because of the form he had just executed, he looked strangely numinous.

While all eyes were stuck to him—

“Ah.”

Bang Sungyeon let a small word slip.

“Wow.”

Then, with a wry little laugh, he added,

“This is...”

In a voice that somehow sounded baffled.

“Easier than I thought?”

[ Hahahahahahaha—!!! ]

At that, Yoo Cheongil burst into roaring laughter.