The World's Greatest is Dead

“Huaa.”

I sighed and stepped outside. Compared to Iron River, the air out here was far cooler.

Inside had felt like I might actually die.

‘That heat was insane.’

The temperature was so high that just walking left me breathless.

The inner end had at least been cooler, which was nice, but the walk back was agony.

‘Maybe coming out from the cold made it worse.’

I fanned my face with a hand. The breeze felt blessedly cool.

While I was taking air, someone came up to me.

Do Hyeong and Cheon Eujin.

“Is the talk finished?”

“Ah, yes. Just now.”

“Are you all right?”

Cheon Eujin asked, worry creasing his face.

“Ah, yes. Well... nothing happened.”

I answered lightly. Maybe because we were in the Tang Clan, he didn’t look convinced.

“Truly, nothing happened.”

Honestly, something had—but not the sort of thing I needed to tell them.

Strictly speaking, it was something I shouldn’t tell either of them.

I swallowed a breath, recalling my talk with Tang Gyeongak.

‘...A ruthless old man.’

It was a fight so hard I wouldn’t want to do it twice.

Yes, calling it a fight was right.

Trading pressure with the Poison King through words like that—

We gave not an inch, blow for blow.

And in the end—

‘I got what I came for.’

I brought back a result that wasn’t bad. No—“not bad” didn’t cover it...

‘Very good.’

Even by my standards, it was solid.

[...Madman.]

Yoo Cheongil drifted in the air and spoke at my reaction.

[You called me reckless, said I’d strip the Tang Clan to the spine and all that nonsense—yet you were worse.]

I pretended not to hear. Even hearing it, I cupped my ears, and he clicked his tongue.

[Did you see that Tang whelp’s face? The longer it went, the more it curdled. I’ll admit, that part was satisfying.]

I almost nodded without thinking.

It was, in fact, satisfying to watch the Poison King’s face fall apart.

‘I had planned to keep it moderate.’

He tried to play me first.

Once I knew that, I wasn’t going to let it pass.

So I rammed him head-on.

‘I really ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) am out of my mind.’

A war of words with the Poison King at arm’s length.

Even with the right on my side, it was nonsense.

Having done it, I almost couldn’t believe it.

[Be honest. You enjoyed it a little, didn’t you?]

He grinned. I didn’t answer this time either; it wasn’t a question that needed one.

‘Enjoyed, my ass.’

I’m not a deviant; I don’t get off on this.

At least I don’t.

It only feels fine because the result was good.

It’s not something I’d like to do twice if I can help it.

‘...I really barely lived.’

It was a conversation with my neck on the block.

Even on the Righteous Path, there are limits.

After pushing it that far, I hadn’t expected him to let me walk out so cleanly.

I was glad to return in one piece—

And the fact I could return this cleanly meant—

‘My existence is that necessary to them.’

No matter how far I crossed the line, there was a reason to keep me alive.

“Hm.”

What on earth is it? What lets them leave me be to this extent?

The question nagged.

‘I’m tied to opening the secret archive.’

Strictly speaking, not me—the Sword Saint’s heir.

But a link existed, no doubt.

‘What is it?’

What is it that makes it like this?

It bothered me, but—

‘I’ll find out anyway.’

I’d learn soon enough.

In the end, I accepted the Poison King’s terms.

He said he’d have everything ready within a few days.

I had no idea what preparations take days just to open a secret archive.

Maybe they were going to make me do something weird—

[Do not fret.]

Knowing my worry, Yoo Cheongil spoke flatly.

[There’s nothing to it. Just eat and shit while you wait.]

As if he already knew the plan, he told me that.

Crude choice of words, but oddly, hearing it eased me a little.

That I could feel relief at the words of this lunatic old man was, itself, funny.

“Anyway—did you two have a good look around?”

“Look around?”

“Since you were at Iron River, I figured you saw something.”

“Ah.”

At that, Cheon Eujin brightened.

“I did. I’ve never seen that many Silver-grade swords in one place.”

He spoke like a kid, and while Do Hyeong’s face stayed blank, I could feel he was a shade keyed up.

‘Silver grade, huh.’

That counts as a famed-blade tier. So there were piles of them at Iron River.

I’d been too harried to notice.

Not that it mattered. Weapons don’t hold much interest for me.

I stretched lightly to work off the fatigue and said:

“They said repairs on Full Moon are starting, and at minimum it’ll take a few days... so what do we do in the meantime?”

I asked, but no answer came.

Thinking they hadn’t heard, I added:

“Senior?”

“...Hm?”

Only when I called to Do Hyeong did he look at me.

What was that look?

“I asked what we should do now.”

“Ah.”

His expression shifted a beat late. Had he not realized I was speaking to him?

‘This guy...?’

He kept forgetting he was the one in charge.

“Senior...?”

“Mm.”

What should we do? He started thinking about it—now.

Why now?

He wasn’t landing on an answer, so I sighed and told him:

“If there’s nothing in particular, should we just train?”

“Good idea.”

He nodded immediately.

At the word “train,” Cheon Eujin’s eyes lit up too.

If you ask me, neither of them is entirely sane.

What’s there to smile about at the prospect of training...?

Anyway—

“Then, first let’s—”

“May I join you?”

Just as I was about to move with them, someone cut in.

A clear, fine voice made me turn my head.

I frowned when I saw who it belonged to.

“...Lady Tang?”

“Hello.”

“...”

It was Tang Yeran—the woman I’d met last night and this morning.

I tilted my head at her sudden insertion.

‘What now.’

Her popping up was one thing; her face was stranger.

Her hair and even her clothes were damp, like she’d been sweating moments ago.

Hair plastered to her cheek, a tired look—oddly alluring, sure—

But leaving that aside—

“Have you been crying?”

“...Pardon?”

I looked into her eyes and asked. She widened hers at the question.

“N-no? Crying?”

She laughed, flustered.

I watched a moment, then nodded.

“I see. Must have been my mistake.”

It was obvious something had happened, but since she said no, I let it go.

Whatever it was, if it had her crying, it would be a hassle.

I had no desire to get tangled up.

“Anyway—join us?”

“I heard you were going to train. I was about to train too, so I thought it’d be nice to go together.”

She came closer with a bright smile.

That quick, tiny step said something about her temperament.

But—

“Ah.”

As she came near, she stopped short.

What now?

Staring, I waited, and she gave me a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry... I’m sweating quite a bit, so I probably smell.”

She slipped one step back as she said it.

Shy, yet oddly familiar.

Be that as it may—

“I’m sorry to say, but there are a lot of problems with training together.”

She was Tang direct line.

We were Blue Moon people. Different arts; training together invites issues.

Besides—

“The training room isn’t that big.”

We’d been given one out of courtesy, but it wasn’t exactly spacious.

Even three was a bit of a squeeze.

When I pointed that out, she suddenly clapped her hands—smack!

“Then I’ll let you use the bloodline training hall with me.”

“...Pardon?”

“It’s large, and if training together is the issue... we could do a friendly duel?”

“What on—”

“A duel?”

“A duel?”

I was about to refuse outright at the nonsense, but Cheon Eujin and Do Hyeong reacted differently.

“...”

I scrubbed my face.

What do I do with these lunatics?

Say “duel,” and they light up like that. Unbelievable.

What to do with this...

I was hesitating for a moment when—

[Why not go.]

Yoo Cheongil said to me.

[We’ve nothing else to do, and going won’t cause trouble.]

“...”

Not wrong. There’s no particular reason it would.

‘But his face is what bothers me.’

The biggest problem wasn’t anything else; it was his reaction just now.

That faintly excited look. That air of wanting me to go like it was nothing.

It grated.

Was he scheming again?

Every time that damned old man wore that face, something blew up.

I was on the fence when—

“...young master...”

From a couple steps away, Tang Yeran spoke to me.

“Yes?”

“Won’t you come with me?”

She must have sensed my hesitation; she asked again.

So I asked:

“...Why?”

Why, specifically, did she want to go with me?

She smiled slightly and said:

“Because I want to get closer. I’m bored, too—and this is a kind of fate, isn’t it?”

“...”

As reasons go, that was flimsy.

You want to get closer, you’re bored, so let’s spar at the training hall?

That’s the sort of thought Cheon Eujin would have.

Given she’d been pestering me about marriage since yesterday, ordinarily I’d have cut her off cold.

‘Her eyes are a weapon.’

Looking into Tang Yeran’s eyes, the words wouldn’t come.

She said she hadn’t cried, but the rims were faintly puffy, and there was a sheen in her gaze.

A trace of sorrow had seeped into her face, and combined with her charms, it made a potent weapon.

I watched it, mouth working.

Refuse. Refuse.

I vowed it, again and again—

“Young Master Bang?”

“...Just once.”

“Yes!”

I agreed before I knew it.

Maybe I was tired after all that pressure-play with Tang Gyeongak, and that’s why I did something I don’t usually do.

‘Fine. We’ve nothing else to do anyway.’

I tried to rationalize it: this much, I could afford.

‘And I still haven’t broken this habit.’

I already knew perfectly well why I was in this state.

It had always been this way:

‘Please... please don’t go? I’ll beg like this...’

I was weak to people who cried.

Very.

****

Somewhere in Sichuan—

A point just barely inside Sichuan at last.

Leaving the empty stretches behind, this was where crowds began to thicken.

There, a massive carriage appeared.

Hiii—!

Even at a glance, the horses harnessed in a row—three, four of them—were in a different class.

Animals hushed as the carriage passed.

Herb gatherers skirting the mountains stared, amazed.

Where would you see a carriage that fine? Their eyes drank it in.

They wondered who, exactly, sat inside.

Drawing stares, the carriage drove on without a pause.

There was no leisure in it. The nearer the destination came, the sharper its owner’s mood grew.

Inside, a man spoke carefully.

“...My lady.”

At his question, the young woman turned from the window.

Her sidelong glance was strikingly beautiful.

“Yes.”

At the light answer, the man flinched despite himself.

Her voice was ice.

This was a time to keep his mouth shut.

Experience, over many such moments, told him so—

“...It may be better to send word ahead.”

—but he couldn’t. Not this time.

“Your reason?”

She invited him to speak, and he did, as if he’d been waiting:

“Sichuan is the Tang Clan’s sphere, and... arriving without any notice at all may not sit well with them...”

“And?”

“So perhaps, at least a small message...”

He ventured it with care.

Even so, his throat dried. He knew it was pointless.

If it was her, she would already know.

Knowing that and having to say it anyway—that was the worst part.

“So... my lady...”

“I won’t send a pigeon.”

At that, the man squeezed his eyes shut.

As expected, her answer didn’t change.

“...But...”

“He’s clever. If we do that, he’ll bolt at once. I’m sorry to the Tang Clan, but I can explain when we get there. In the worst case, I can borrow the Clan Head’s name.”

Her voice held a firmness that said she would hear nothing else.

And—

“Who could have guessed—after I went all the way to Anhui to find him, he’d dart down to Sichuan? Even you, Mujeong, would agree.”

The strongest note in that voice was anger.

“...About that...”

“He really is good at one thing—running.”

Crack.

Something broke.

The man glanced with slitted eyes toward the sound.

The hairpin in her hand had snapped to pieces.

“...Run, then. Let’s see you try.”

White fingers trembled with fury.

“I will catch you.”

She made a vow she’d made hundreds of times—again.