Chapter 36
**
“Kid.”
Smaak dropped the sword he was holding. The marks left on his hand wouldn’t fade easily.
Sma Gon laughed.
“There’s no need to force yourself to do something you can’t do.”
“I want to be like Grandpa.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but it doesn’t seem like you truly love the sword, does it? It looks to me like you enjoy sitting around more.”
That might just be true. Honestly, I’ve never really loved the sword.
To be honest, moving my body doesn’t even feel that great. I picked up the sword wanting to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps, but I got tired of it quickly.
Still, I wielded it to chase his footsteps.
Smaak sighed.
“As someone who will one day be the Head of the Sma Clan, you should learn the art of doing nothing to some extent. The Sma Clan is a martial family.”
“That sounds mature. Not something you’d expect from a mere ten-year-old.”
“I’ve had to grow up early since I’ve been without parents.”
“Hmph. With a smart grandson like you, what more could I wish for?”
Sma Gon lifted Smaak onto his back and lightly walked around the garden.
“As someone who will be the Head of the Sma Clan, that’s a wonderful goal. But there’s no need to be perfect in everything.”
“If one’s mind isn’t strong, the body will crumble.”
“That’s true as well. But conversely, if the body is strong, wouldn’t the mind remain intact?”
“…….”
“They’re interconnected. Kid, whatever your shortcomings may be, the members of the Sma Clan will support you.”
“But the Sma Clan is martial, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s martial. All prestigious families at the main school are martial. But that doesn’t mean the head must be strong.”
Sma Gon picked up the sword.
“Now, let me show you. Do you know why the Sma Clan’s sword ends with just one stroke?”
“…I don’t know.”
“It comes from the conviction that one stroke is enough—that’s what most people think. But that’s actually incorrect. The reason the Sma Clan’s sword is called the ‘One Sword of Sma’ is because when the head wields the sword, a single moment is all that’s needed.”
“Huh?”
“You’ve been neglecting the family history, haven’t you? Well, I suppose you prefer new things and don’t care much for the old, right?”
Sma Gon swung the sword lightly.
It was a lightweight sword. At the same time, it was neat.
“Though the Sma Clan is martial, not every head has been strong throughout the generations. In fact, there have been many who were physically weak but intellectually exceptional. The One Sword of Sma—while I bear it now and the meaning may have diluted, back in the day, it was a title meant for just one.”
“…What do you mean?”
“Must the head necessarily be strong? As I said before, one’s weaknesses can be compensated by others. The One Sword of Sma symbolizes the entire Sma Clan. Kid, even if that meaning has faded, restore it in your generation.”
Sma Gon looked up at him.
“You’re a clever boy, so I have faith you can do it. Right?”
“…….”
Smaak held his tongue. He simply asked.
“Do you think I could become a head like you, Grandpa?”
“That’s a foolish question.”
Sma Gon chuckled.
“You’ll become a head far superior to me. I can assure you of that.”
…
He had no talent for martial arts.
But in exchange, his mind was brilliant.
Studying was enjoyable. This brilliance yielded tenfold results from learning a single concept.
So he absorbed everything he could.
From collecting information at the Hidden Pavilion to mastering finance at the Investment Pavilion.
He learned how to navigate politics as the head of the Sma Clan and how to survive at the main school.
But there was one thing he couldn’t learn. The only connection to the previous head.
The One Sword of Sma.
That was the one thing he couldn’t obtain.
He understood it intellectually, but his body wouldn’t follow. Even as he swung and swung, he couldn’t reach it.
Grandpa said it was fine, but Smaak felt nothing of the sort.
He respected him.
He wanted to resemble him.
Yet there was something he couldn’t do. As if destiny had been set from the moment he was born.
…But still.
—Is there really no sword I can wield?
No.
That’s why he sought to learn even more.
So much so that the entire Sma Clan taught it.
“Unveil the One Sword of Sma!”
The first real battle.
The proper unveiling of the Sma Clan’s sword technique for the first time.
With the words uttered, the warriors of the Hidden Pavilion gripped their swords. They assumed the same positions as before.
Smaak stood in the center. Chu Yi-gyeong swung his sword.
“What can something as basic as this do in real combat?! I have already broken through once! I’ll crush you just the same!”
The clash ensues. The structure breaks.
In an instant, the formation of a master is disrupted.
But it isn’t over. Though it may appear shattered, in reality, it has been altered.
The movement of the formation shifts.
What is the sword technique?
It’s not just about seizing advantageous terrain. When praying within it, at times, it leads one weakly, at other times, strongly.
A method created by weak beasts gathering to devour a strong one.
That is the sword technique.
“Such foolishness…!”
Just a moment ago, it fell apart. But now isn’t the time for that.
With the resolve to risk their lives, those wielding swords solidify their positions. They swing their swords with the intention of not yielding even if their necks are severed.
As their spirit changes, so does the situation.
As the situation changes, the sword technique finally demonstrates its power.
With the changed formation, the internal vigor begins to gather. Acting as the center, Smaak promptly directs the flow of this internal vigor.
Like a beast carrying a load. Like a horse galloping endlessly.
This much should be manageable. After all, it merely serves as the conduit.
When advancing, it adds strength.
When retreating, it draws back.
He maneuvers the mind. Continuously signaling the warriors through intricate hand signals.
Five withdraw, three rush in.
The remaining two channel their full power into the game being played towards him.
—Kaaahhhh!!
The clashing swords sing with iron. Intertwined, they fall from all around.
Chu Yi-gyeong’s expression falters. The once arrogant face distorts.
At the peak of tension.
A being who has reached an undeniable realm strikes down three oncoming swords at once.
“Meaningless struggles!”
The sword energy cuts through the air. Within it resides the martial prowess of the Sma Clan.
The complex yet simple array of the One Sword of Sma attempts to cleave all three at once.
But in that instant, Smaak exerted himself. He channeled all gathered internal vigor and sustained three warriors at once.
—Kududududud!
In the midst of that chilling sound, the eyes of the three warriors bulged. Yet the three swords, for the first time, deflected Chu Yi-gyeong’s blade.
“What?!”
“Move! Head of the Hidden Pavilion!”
The head of the Hidden Pavilion, Jin San-wol, stomped the ground. He pierced through the broken gap of Chu Yi-gyeong.
Though he reacted in time, the narrowly avoided strike returned with certain results.
Chu Yi-gyeong clutched his shoulder. Thin blood seeped through the gaps between his fingers.
“This basic sword technique is supposed to be nothing…?! How can such variation…?!”
“It all depends on who is directing the flow.”
Unable to wield a sword directly, he continued to study and research.
Dividing his time to ensure the Sma Clan wouldn’t crumble, he had them comprehend the sword technique.
Each piece was nothing special. But if he directed it with an understanding of its purpose, the story changed.
No longer merely assembling formations, it could move like a living entity.
Whirling and twisting.
Pouring like a tide only to suddenly withdraw.
A blade whose flow was liberated.
The martial art only he could wield with his brilliant mind.
That’s his sword. Anyone from the Sma Clan could wield the sword technique like grass drawn from its sheath.
“Ugh…! But…!”
A slightly injured Chu Yi-gyeong howled.
“In the end, it’s just a childish trick!”
In an instant, the formation crumbles. Two warriors crash into the wall.
That statement rings true. Ultimately, it’s hard to unmistakably gain the upper hand against a true master with the sword technique.
Therefore…
He never intended to be satisfied here.
He grasps the hilt. He grabs the Soul-Stealing Sword.
This fine sword doesn’t suit him. No matter how much he swung the One Sword of Sma, he could never reach its end.
It was likely he wouldn’t reach it in the future either. Even if he swung a sword for a lifetime, it wouldn’t happen.
He never truly loved the sword in the first place.
Nor had he been so desperate about it.
It was merely an unfulfilled desire.
But now, it’s different.
There’s a reason he must grasp the sword. The Sma Clan doesn’t forget their grudges.
He must move forward. To that guy, who’s just holding the Soul-Stealing Sword.
Once.
Just once is enough.
“There’s no need to force yourself to do something you can’t do.”
But still, there are times one must grasp it. Grandpa.
There are times when picking up the sword and swinging it becomes necessary.
The one who extended his hand first is the first person I’ve never received from. The goodwill I hadn’t received even once since sitting here.
It doesn’t suit the main school. I know that more than anyone.
Yet…
Having taken that outstretched hand, shouldn’t I also offer my hand in return?
“Training isn’t the concern of a bodyguard…”
He pours his desires into the tip of the sword.
Yeah.
It’s always been this way.
The sword extended by the head is enough just once.
A warrior of the Hidden Pavilion thrusts his sword. It rebounds.
A warrior of the Hidden Pavilion thrusts his sword. It cleaves.
A warrior of the Hidden Pavilion thrusts his sword. It shatters.
Chu Yi-gyeong approaches like an injured beast. Yet, those who fell do not die—they breathe their internal strength back into him.
Following the signal, they pretend to be dead.
Obeying his commands…
—For just a moment…!
“Since everyone in the Sma Clan is busy, I must balance two roles, right?”
Death approaches.
The sword is right in front of him. His legs tremble, the first real battle leaves his head spinning.
But even so, he exhales. Clutching the hilt of the Soul-Stealing Sword, he awaits just that one moment.
That guy taught him. Supplemented him, and also allowed him to grasp it by hand.
He received.
The pure goodwill he’s never experienced from another person.
He also gained trust, while simultaneously learning the sword.
A purity that doesn’t suit the main school. At the end, he even let his innermost feelings surface, trusting himself.
“Do you think I could become a head like you, Grandpa?”
In his childhood.
The tremors of that moment he only remembered with his intellect he imbues into the sword’s tip. The overflowing internal vigor layers it, and he stands on tiptoe for just one moment.
His hand can no longer endure the strain, and veins burst. His body deteriorates for that single extension.
“You’re being foolish.”
The last of the warriors falls. At that moment, Chu Yi-gyeong’s sword gleams before him.
“It’s the end! Smaak!”
The time where reality and the past intertwines.
In that moment, Smaak sends his last signal.
Fallen bodies rise, countless warriors throw themselves into battle.
For a single moment, Chu Yi-gyeong’s movements are arrested. His motions slow, his pupils dilate.
“Such monkey tricks…!”
Crossing blades. Countless swords converge for a single moment.
In that fleeting instant, Chu Yi-gyeong flails in the air. He doesn’t miss that chance—the Soul-Stealing Sword bares its fangs.
Blood spills. The roar of warriors.
Amid it all, Smaak gritted his teeth.
The chance is only once. Just once, he must unleash everything.
Utilizing the accumulated internal vigor with all his might. It may appear defenseless, but to surpass that firm sword…
—With full power!
“What…?!”
Chu Yi-gyeong contorts. In his hand, the technique of the One Sword of Sma unfurls late.
Veins and muscles. Everything bursts forth within the crafted scenario, and Smaak emits a sound akin to a battle cry.
No need for more.
“You’ll become a head far superior to me. I can assure you of that.”
Just one moment is enough for the sword.
That is my…
“The One Sword of Sma!”
If it had been an ordinary fight, it wouldn’t have been possible.
The teachings of someone who learned from the bottom, in a fleeting form, come together.
Bearing the name of the Sma Clan.
Casting forth light.
—It devours the death before him.
“…Huh?”
The sword held by a passing Chu Yi-gyeong trembles. His incredulous eyes flicker.
He staggers back, changing grips on the sword repeatedly before finally opening his mouth.
“How could someone like you… wield that sword?”
“…My mind is brilliant.”
The hand that had been writhing finally lets go of the sword. The sound of it falling consumes the hall.
“I’ve known the hidden techniques from the very start. Unlike dullards like you.”
“…This… This makes no sense…”
A line is drawn over his trembling body.
Smaak spits blood-tinged saliva onto it.
“I told you it’s noisy. Just a little shithead.”
The red thread that began at his throat.
The blade’s edge that split apart devours Chu Yi-gyeong’s neck entirely.
…
“Tsk.”
The Soul-Stealing Sword speaks.
It’s not clear at all.
Just a murmur. That’s all.
“I’m on the verge of breaking. Thirty. Do you want to continue?”
He grips the sword.
He grips the sword.
He holds onto the sword…
“Yes.”
He clings to life.
To keep his promise.
“I… have not fallen yet.”
“…Kuhuh!”
He laughs.
I cannot smile.
I grasp the sword.
I do what must be done.
…That’s all there is to it.
I took a step forward once more.
Into the broken, blood-soaked battlefield.
