Reincarnated Sword Ghost

New Rising Expert

The Shaolin Assembly, for such a prominent event, was not structured in an overly complicated way.

Invitations were sent out to all the major sects in the martial world.

With the exception of unavoidable circumstances, there was no group that dared refuse an invitation from Shaolin, so the number of participants was quite large.

Therefore, the competition was divided into preliminaries and the main rounds.

Particularly during the preliminaries, multiple duels were held simultaneously.

Given Shaolin’s vast grounds, they had plenty of room for this.

There was even enough space for the audience to surround the central stage at a distance.

Making use of the high and low hills, spectators sat freely, looking down at the dueling stage.

”This year’s Shaolin Assembly is the most anticipated yet.”

”I heard all the elite talents of the prestigious lineages have come. Especially Namgung Hui, the young hero...”

”Look, there’s Mount Hua. Those who couldn’t get into the Heavenly Martial Hall must have sharpened their blades for this.”

Even ordinary commoners, who normally would not dare utter the names of martial artists for fear of retribution, spoke freely.

That was the stature of the Shaolin Assembly.

It was hosted by none other than the leader of the Just Faction, who watched over the people.

In the end, even the authority enjoyed by local martial artists who dominated their regions was inevitably rooted in the blood and sweat of the commoners.

When the people toiled diligently in the fields, the martial artists would collect a portion of those yields as ”protection fees”.

In some regions, the demands surpassed even the official tributes required by the state.

This festival was one of the rare times when that relationship was reversed.

The martial artists had to demonstrate their strength in front of the masses and rely on the people to spread their fame.

It was an era in which honor equaled power.

The world of the commoners and that of the martial artists were entangled in such a complicated yet simple way.

’Still, things are somewhat better in the territories controlled by the great sects.’

In regions where one of the five great families, like the Namgung clan, or one of the Nine Great Sects and One Union had established a base, there were at least some principles.

Elsewhere, there were commoners who barely realized it when their local ruler changed.

What mattered more to them than news from afar was the mood of the martial artists living nearby on any given day.

The impact of martial artists was felt directly, affecting daily life in tangible ways.

Jeong-un slowly looked around at the bustling crowd.

It was absurd to think, but this felt the most like an actual human society he had seen recently.

For an average commoner, it was normal to fall asleep without even brushing the dirt off their fingertips.

Dusky, grimy faces were standard.

’To see them smiling so brightly...’

Perhaps it was because diversions were few in this world.

Dozens of layers of spectators surrounded the dueling stage, their faces beaming as they chatted ceaselessly.

Some even held simple fare, like boiled potatoes or sweet potatoes, close to their chests as if they were treasures.

Those who had come to spectate at all were relatively better off.

Or perhaps they had stretched themselves to make it here.

Once this weeks-long festival ended, everyone would return to daily life.

If they had more time, perhaps they would listen for the tolling of Shaolin’s iron bell before going home.

They would carry the joy of this brief moment as they lived on through the long years ahead.

’Truly... it’s an unfathomable world.’

Since he was from the Yu household, he had seen many different slices of the martial world.

Even so, new aspects still surprised him.

Strangely, it was in moments like this that Jeong-un felt his own shortcomings the most.

He still had a long way to go before he could claim to understand the world of martial artists.

”That man called Blue Hand Sword is no easy opponent. Of course, although the young hero Cheon has surely trained feverishly during the closure...”

Shin Soryeong spoke from beside him, her face marked with some worry.

Regardless of the fortuitous opportunity she had gained from her conversation with Jeong-un, it seemed she did not think him possessed of extraordinary swordsmanship.

It was only natural—she likely knew him as an anonymous disciple of the Baek Sword Gate.

Jeong-un answered calmly.

”They say a swordsman’s life is embodied in his sword. This is just an exchange—matching our lives and experiences. To me, that’s an honor. The victory or defeat isn’t important.”

”... Matching lives, huh.”

Shin Soryeong repeated his words as if turning them over in her mind, then smiled gently.

”That’s a good sentiment.”

Yet even so, she could not completely mask her unease.

She clearly did not want to see her benefactor—a martial artist she revered—defeated so helplessly.

At the same time, she did not seem to expect Jeong-un to actually win the duel.

That was understandable.

Blue Hand Sword was said to be a third-generation disciple of Qingcheng Sect, a formidable swordsman said to unleash a sharp, blue stream of vital ki with every swing.

”Blue Hand Sword, Seo-myeong, is a swordsman who pushed the twelve forms of the Blue Cloud Sword Technique to their limits. He is famous for saving an entire village in Sichuan by decapitating dozens of unorthodox faction members.”

”A chivalrous hero, then.”

”......”

Shin Soryeong glanced sideways at Jeong-un’s face.

Far from being tense over the approaching duel, his expression was almost blank.

From time to time he absentmindedly brushed his sword guard at his waist, seemingly unaware of the gesture himself.

’Is he not nervous, or is he just good at hiding his feelings...?’

Honestly, it mattered little to her whether he won or lost.

The Baek Sword Gate was not a particularly renowned sect in the martial world, and their so-called prodigy was not present either.

If not for the recent incident at the mountain school, no one would have paid any attention.

Meanwhile, Jeong-un himself harbored completely different thoughts.

’Is it even possible for them to guard against this?’

He couldn’t help but think this as he looked at the massive crowd before him.

He had been prepared, but seeing it with his own eyes was something else.

For someone skilled in infiltration, like the Divine Thief, this chaotic environment was ideal.

Moreover, the Shaolin monks seemed overwhelmed as well.

There were plenty of them, but they appeared stretched thin trying to manage so many.

Even with large numbers mobilized, Jeong-un wondered if they could truly spare enough to guard their treasures properly.

Jeong-un recalled the martial monks he had passed by earlier.

Perhaps because they had trained in the Tendon Changing Classic since childhood, each one had a powerful, vigorous flow of ki.

’They can’t be letting down their guard.’

He picked up his pace as he thought this.

Soon, it would be his turn to step onto the dueling stage.

* * *

The man called Blue Hand Sword appeared more scholar than warrior.

Perhaps it was the Qingcheng Sect’s aura.

The martial artists in identical navy martial garb tended to have similar traits.

’A disciple of a great sect.’

Qingcheng Sect claimed a place among the Nine Great Sects and One Union.

They also actively encouraged their disciples to attend Heavenly Martial Hall.

His unique cultivated power was clearly felt in the ki he exuded—cold and pristine as only a Taoist could possess.

His slender frame radiated a honed sharpness, like a perfectly tempered blade.

’This really feels like I’m just a spectacle now.’

That was Jeong-un’s first impression as he stepped onto the broad dueling platform.

Even before the duel began, the cheers were deafening.

The crowd was worked up just seeing two armed martial artists face each other.

”To think I’d see one of Qingcheng’s immortal-like adepts with my own eyes... It was worth coming all the way here!”

”Who’s his opponent? Just looking at his face is a pleasure.”

”I think they said Baek Sword Gate. Never heard of it.”

Snippets of conversation carried from all sides.

Was it because he was lost in the massive crowd?

People were not shy about making remarks, even right in front of the two combatants.

Jeong-un surveyed his surroundings with fresh eyes.

It was novel—so often he’d seen people too frightened to even speak in a normal guesthouse for fear of martial artists.

’This is normal.’

That’s how Jeong-un saw it.

Amid the order maintained by Shaolin, everyone was free to speak their minds, and he didn’t think that was so bad.

To him, it was a far stranger world where one wrong word could mean losing your head.

”I am Seo-myeong of Qingcheng. Some call me Blue Hand Sword, though I don’t deserve the title.”

Blue Hand Sword gave a martial salute.

Compared to the rigid, formal bearing of scion from martial families, his movements were as free as the wind.

He was, indeed, worthy of being called a Taoist.

”I am Cheon Pung of Baek Sword Gate. I have no title.”

Jeong-un returned the salute, his expression serene.

At this, Blue Hand Sword tilted his head slightly.

Even when facing a famed great sect’s disciple, Jeong-un’s breathing was remarkably steady.

He had not expected him to be visibly intimidated.

But for a newcomer without even a title, his demeanor was strangely surprising.

’Is it because of mental discipline? Or perhaps he’s so nervous he’s frozen stiff?’

Either way, it did not matter.

The outcome would reveal all soon enough.

With that, Blue Hand Sword slowly reached for his sword guard.

”......”

Meanwhile, Jeong-un was circulating true ki through his meridians, focusing minutely on its flow.

He was planning to finish this in a short, decisive exchange.

’This is an identity I’ll discard after this anyway.’

The more attention, the better.

The greater the spotlight, the more information he could gather.

Those who approached him out of curiosity would offer him a wide array of rumors, all to be filtered for value.

A suddenly emerging new expert.

That would surely capture everyone’s interest.

And so, the duel began.

Ta-ak!

He closed the distance instantly with a burst of lightness skill.

He saw Blue Hand Sword’s eyes widen as he rushed in—a reaction he had expected.

Seizing the rhythm of an opponent’s sword required doing the unexpected.

However, fitting of a great sect’s disciple, Blue Hand Sword quickly suppressed his surprise.

He even drew his sword microseconds before Jeong-un.

It signaled confidence that his striking range exceeded Jeong-un’s.

But the motion of his joints was not one of slashing.

While drawing his elbow back, in the next instant, he was already thrusting his sword forward.

Combined with the rush of his lightness skill, he focused a tremendous burst of energy into a single point.

Seooong—

As the ferocious, spear-like sword strike shot directly toward him, Jeong-un gripped his sword guard tightly.

Srrng—!

The veins on the back of his hand stood out as he drew his sword, the blade rasping from the scabbard with a hair-raising sound.

His draw and swing formed a single fluid arc.

’Outstanding.’

To focus cultivated power on a single point and open with a surprise thrust—his move’s completion was extraordinary.

This was the mark of a disciple of a prestigious sect.

The dazzling speed of his sword was like a lance of light.

Seooeok!

But the opponent was not to be taken lightly.

Jeong-un had once stolen the very breath of Light-Flowing Sword, famed for his swift swordplay.

Moreover, he now possessed profound internal power, having consumed two elixirs- each nearly impossible to obtain even in a lifetime.

He had both innate talent and fortuitous encounter.

He stood on a level others could barely imagine, not yet fully aware himself.

Jjajeojeong!

Instead of letting the sword strike him, he swung his sword sideways, smashing into the incoming thrust with a sound like breaking stone.

He moved so fast, it looked as if his opponent’s sword had slowed—such was the difference in skill.

”What...!”

Blue Hand Sword’s eyes widened, fixing on the blade of his treasured Cloud Pattern Sword, given only to Qingcheng’s named disciples.

Now, the cloud engravings on its blade had split into several fragments.

Chaaak—!

Dozens of tiny blade shards scattered through the air like so many flower petals.

Caught by the sunlight, they sparkled in a mesmerizing display—a festival of light.

Even spectators who hadn’t caught the fleeting exchange could clearly see the aftermath.

Martial artists in the audience stood up in shock.

”.......”

”.......”

The hall fell silent for a moment.

After watching with wide eyes, a Shaolin monk finally spoke in a slow, solemn voice.

”... The victor is Cheon Pung of Baek Sword Gate.”

Waaaaaaaaaah—!

A tremendous cheer erupted.

-------------= Clacky’s Corner -------------=

Short and sweet...

【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】