Best Sword Among Wanderers.
A nickname meaning the finest swordsmanship among ronin.
It was the title Baek Yang-hwi had earned after leaving his clan and wandering the martial world for over a decade.
But Yang-hwi wasn't pleased with his own moniker.
"Those damn loudmouth busybodies are the problem. Slapping 'best sword' on the end after some tacky prefix."
Sichuan's Best Sword, Wudang's Best Sword, Junior's Best Sword, and so on.
"Next thing you know, some third-rate black path alley thug's gonna get called the Best Sword too. They'll bicker among themselves and come up with Black Snake Sect's Best Sword or whatever."
The ronin companion trailing behind him on the mountain path, Hundred Li Pursuer—Chudal for short—chuckled in response.
"Still, brother, getting called the best sword as a mere wanderer? That's something. Admit it, it feels good."
"Chudal, oh Chudal, the Chudal with the 'pathetic' chu and 'otter' dal."
Hundred Li Pursuer—no, Chudal—bristled at that.
"It's 'pursue' chu and 'reach' dal! Meaning a master who never lets anything within a hundred li escape—adept at pursuit and arrival!"
"Sure, Chudal. Why do you think it's 'hundred' li and not ten thousand or a thousand?"
"..."
"It means that's exactly your level."
"Argh! You can't say that to your little brother!"
"What's that got to do with anything? I could say it about myself too. I'm still just the Best Sword Among Wanderers."
He said it with a laugh, but there was clear self-mockery seeping through.
Chudal just snorted.
"At your age, reaching the Transcendent Realm?"
Chudal was convinced.
If his sworn brother had shown his true martial arts, he'd have earned a far grander title.
"No use trying to play the brooding type."
"Busted, huh?"
"A third-rate martial clan kid hitting Transcendent before even the Unconfused Age? You think that's easy?"
On top of that, Yang-hwi had amassed enough wealth for three generations to live lavishly.
Any complaints just sounded like false modesty.
But.
"It's not enough. To elevate a third-rate martial clan to a Prestigious Clan... we're still a long way off."
That was Yang-hwi's dream and goal.
To raise his lowly third-rate family into the ranks of a Prestigious Clan.
"You're one tough bastard, brother. Wandering as a ronin for twenty years to save money and invent new martial arts."
Yang-hwi smirked and continued.
"Pitiful, isn't it? So how about investing all the money you've saved with your big brother here?"
"Hey now! As if a past-his-prime bachelor like me isn't already saving up for a wife—you trying to swipe that?"
"In return, I'll make you an elder of the Baek Clan Fort."
"I could walk into any place and get better treatment than that!"
Yang-hwi shot back immediately.
"A mere hundred-li chaser like you getting elder treatment anywhere? Just join our clan already, kid!"
"No way!"
"Fine, then. From this commission we got from the Namgung Clan, I'll take seven parts, you take three."
"Quit saying ridiculous crap!"
"It's not ridiculous."
Yang-hwi slowly came to a halt.
At the same time, his hand rested on his sword hilt.
"You haven't noticed yet."
Chudal's body froze rigid.
"You mean...?"
"Yeah. Get ready."
Shing!
Yang-hwi and Chudal drew their swords in unison.
At that, the surrounding brush rustled, and over ten black-clad masked figures emerged.
Eleven. Well-trained by their auras. Why surround us just to ambush?
Without showing a hint of suspicion, he casually spoke up.
"Black robes the latest trend in bandit circles these days?"
"They say you have the finest sword among ronin. Your senses are sharp too."
"My sword's only the best among ronin, but my nose is peerless under heaven. Can't stand that stench pouring off you. Right, Chudal?"
Chudal jumped right in.
"Heh, brother's spot on. Been smelling something foul for a while—looks like it's coming off their ugly mugs."
"They know it too, wrapping those hoods so tight over their faces."
"I figure their faces are as ugly as their stink, so they hid 'em."
"Makes sense. Uhahaha!"
"Not just sense—it's a hundred li of sense! Heh heh heh!"
The two traded insulting banter with gleeful cackles.
A few masked men couldn't hold back their fury and reacted instinctively.
In that instant, Yang-hwi and Chudal seized the opening and lunged.
Their targets: the two who had shown emotion.
Pfuk!
"Kragh!"
One masked man, caught off guard, was sent straight to the afterlife.
Yang-hwi then raised his sword to block a strike from the side.
Clang!
"Chudal, go!"
"Got it!"
Kicking off Yang-hwi's shoulder, Chudal leaped high, broke through the encirclement, and unleashed his lightness skill.
His figure vanished in an instant. Yang-hwi quipped nonchalantly.
"Whew! That guy's lightness skill is top-notch. If you don't want word of this ambush spreading everywhere, chase him quick, you bastards."
One masked man signaled, and nine gave pursuit.
One remained. Their leader, by the look of him.
This is unexpected.
He'd planned to shatter the encirclement, split their forces, and create chaos—but hadn't expected just one to stay.
"They call you Best Sword Among Wanderers. Confident, are you?"
The masked man silently drew his sword.
"Oh, sword guy too, huh? Looks like you got some 'best sword' title yourself."
"..."
The silent masked man.
Dumb, maybe? Time to guess.
"Wearing a mask in this sweltering heat... Summer's Best Sword! Finest sword among summer losers! That's you!"
"...Now I see, not Best Sword Among Wanderers—just Best Bullshitter Among Wanderers."
"Aaah, my tongue's pretty slick. Want more?"
Yang-hwi pressed on.
"Why's the Namgung Clan—the client—ambushing us?"
He hadn't clashed blades to read forms.
Nor sensed inner arts through auras.
Yet Yang-hwi pierced the man's identity at a glance.
"...You're dangerous, as expected."
The masked man removed his mask. Yang-hwi froze in shock.
"You?!"
"Best" meant the foremost among many.
Thus, the true best could only be the World's Supreme.
World's Supreme Clan, Great Namgung.
The foe was their Young Clan Heir.
"Young Clan Heir. What the hell is this?"
Young Clan Heir Namgung Cheon-yeong replied gravely.
"Can't just sit by while the Baek Clan—once part of the Five Great Clans—regains its true martial arts."
The real reason Yang-hwi had left home to roam the world.
To restore the family's lost heritage arts.
"Not content with reaching Transcendent on mere third-rate arts, you've elevated them to divine technique level. Sorry, Best Sword Among Wanderers."
Instead of asking how he knew—having always hidden his skills—Yang-hwi scoffed.
"Well, yeah. I pulled off something even the Great Namgung's Young Heir couldn't."
Though it came with qi deviation and near-death agony as payback.
If not for the meridians wrecked by qi deviation...
He could have glimpsed even higher realms.
Anyway.
"Who knew the mighty Great Namgung would fixate on a single third-rate martial clan like this. Is this the secret to monopolizing the World's Supreme Clan title—such thoroughness?"
Namgung Cheon-yeong didn't deny it, just gave a bitter smile.
"Gangseo and Anhui are too close. Can't just watch."
"Taking off the mask means you plan to kill me for sure."
"It's also respect for you."
"Confident you can?"
"..."
Namgung Cheon-yeong didn't answer, but his silence was affirmation.
He was always first on lists of future World's Best Swordsman.
A genius said to have surpassed even his clan head father, transcending generations.
But backing down wasn't Yang-hwi's style.
"Spent eighteen years reforging the family's Heaven-Covering Sword. The peerless Imperial Sword Form will be perfect to test the results."
Grinning fiercely, Yang-hwi lunged at Namgung Cheon-yeong.
Chaaeng!
The life-or-death duel began with a fierce clash.
Two hours by time.
Over a thousand exchanges by moves.
At the end of the grueling bout, it concluded.
Pfuk! Pfuk!
Two rending sounds.
One heart pierced by a blade.
One arm severed at the shoulder.
"Cough!"
Namgung Cheon-yeong spewed bloody foam. His trembling hand reached toward Yang-hwi.
As if to throttle him, it fell limply on Yang-hwi's shoulder.
"Sorry..."
As Namgung Cheon-yeong's eyes lost their light, Yang-hwi withdrew the sword from his heart.
Then collapsed, strength spent.
"Sorry my ass."
Think a bad deed and an apology fixes everything?
Then why do Martial Public Enemies exist?
Such thoughts swirled, yet Yang-hwi felt profound satisfaction swelling within.
I won.
The Best Sword of Namgung—who'd devoured spirit pills and trained supreme arts since childhood—felled by the Best Sword Among Wanderers.
Proof.
That his restored clan arts were peerless in the martial world.
Now, just pass it on to the clan...
That was when.
"Young Heir!"
"You bastard!"
The masked men who'd chased Chudal returned.
...Chudal.
One held Chudal's severed head.
Yang-hwi had hoped Chudal might escape since the target was him.
They hunted him down and killed him anyway. No loose ends.
Yang-hwi staggered to his feet.
Namgung Cheon-yeong had been no easy foe; his body was a wreck.
"You know? Chudal's dream was to get married."
Shing!
One masked man's head flew with a single strike.
"Kill a guy like that? Aren't you scared of a bachelor's ghost grudge?"
Sruk!
A sword pierced his gut, but in trade, he stabbed the foe's heart.
"Kill him! All six from the six directions at once!"
"Idiot. We're not using formation arts—how do you attack simultaneously from all sides?"
He blocked two swords with his back, then shoved steel into their mouths.
Six left.
Heaven-Covering 108 Swords—a dazzling sword dance blanketing the sky—filled the air.
"Chudal, oh Chudal, the Chudal with 'pathetic' chu and 'otter' dal. You watching?"
Pfuk! Pfuk! Pfuk!
Five of the six met their end.
In exchange, wounds left him unable to take another step.
One remained.
"Come on. Come at me, you punk."
Bathed head to toe in blood, barely standing on one knee, yet Yang-hwi's aura was like a vengeful demon.
"Uh, uh..."
Perhaps that's why. The last one fled instead of attacking.
"Ah, damn. Don't punk out at the end."
Yang-hwi gathered his final qi and hurled his sword.
The flying blade pierced the man's back.
Pfuk!
Confirming the fall, Yang-hwi finally let go.
"Chudal. Sorry."
To avenge you, I'd have to wipe out the entire Namgung Clan. Looks impossible.
Strength drained from his body.
With the blood loss, consciousness faded.
"Gotta... go back... to the clan..."
He no longer had strength to keep his eyes open.
His vision darkened.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
A dank cave reeking of filth and wet mud.
Utterly filthy, yet familiar.
This was where Yang-hwi had first gained a family.
Sigh. So the life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing is real right before death. Wait, does that mean I'll see Father soon?
A beggar gang runt begging for scraps, kidnapped by black path thugs and sold into slavery.
That was young Yang-hwi back then.
The one who changed that fate was his adoptive father.
Peerless Righteous Benefactor Baek Mu-ryang.
Patriarch of Baek Clan Fort in Wuzhu County, Gangseo Province—a righteous soul peerless in acts of chivalry.
Father will come soon to crush the black path and save me.
In his daze, Yang-hwi relived the past.
"Child, you're free now. Go home."
Even after Baek Mu-ryang's rescue, Yang-hwi hadn't budged.
No home to go to, and begging was begging—shelter under the sky was all the same.
To such a boy, his father had asked.
"Why don't you go?"
What did I say? Something like I'd move when starving forced me to, so the hero needn't worry?
Then, the memory's father continued.
"I performed a rescue out of chivalry, yet your pity remains. How can I leave you like this?"
Baek Mu-ryang knelt on one knee before the boy.
"What's your name?"
Even thirty years ago, on that day, Father had asked his name.
Unnaturally vivid flashback. Yang-hwi unwittingly replied.
"No name. Just 'this one' or 'that one' since I was little."
"Born human, how can... Sigh, perhaps this is fate too. Then how about this."
Baek Mu-ryang extended his hand.
"We met in this dark cave, but I wish your life ahead to be bright and shining. Thus, Yang-hwi. With my surname, Baek Yang-hwi."
Callused yet somehow soft and warm large hands filled the boy's view.
"I sense a bond with you. Yang-hwi, will you be my son?"
On this past day, the wretched boy had gained the name Yang-hwi and a family.
"Yang-hwi, this is Baek Clan Fort. Your home from now on."
Clean clothes, hot meals. Kind father, cute siblings.
Happiness he'd never known in life.
Naturally, Baek Clan Fort became dearer than anything to Yang-hwi.
"Hwi, this father's dream is for our Baek family to reclaim Prestigious Clan status and dominate Gangseo Province."
One day, sitting him down with drinks, Father had shared his ambition.
Father's dream became son's, and from then, Yang-hwi strove to make Baek a Prestigious Clan.
But.
With the clan's arts... even with my talent, third-rate arts too shallow to master in three years.
Yes. Baek's heritage was mere third-rate.
A martial clan's essence is martial prowess.
How could one without foundations ascend to Prestigious Clan?
After endless wandering training, I finally invented something worthy of 'divine art'...
What good was it? Died without passing it on.
Damn it all. Should've gone home sooner.
Odd, though.
Should be dead by now, but why won't the flashback end?
The thought arose.
⚙ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ⚙Reverse Heaven Fate-Reversal The reverse-heaven flow has altered the yoke. Return to Proper Flow It must be righted and flow correctly. Return and Fulfill Wishes Return and accomplish your desires.
A voice branded into his eardrums—no, his brain—no, his soul like a fiery seal.
Yang-hwi instinctively knew: this wasn't a mere flashback. The father before him was real.
Back in time to the past? What the hell is going on...?
Yang-hwi stared, entranced, at his young father's face.
Vividly real.
"Father."
"Yes, from now on, this Baek Mu-ryang is your dad. Hahaha!"
He didn't know.
Couldn't fathom what was happening.
But if.
If this was another chance...
This time, I'll fulfill my wish, my dream.
"I'll make Baek Clan Fort the World's Supreme Clan. No matter what."
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