Seamless Heavenly Robe, Yeon Seo-rin, was polishing a sword.

“Are you even listening to me?”

The Second Miss of the Sword Clan gave a perfunctory nod.

“Yes, yes.”

At her insincere reply, the Head of the Guard Pavilion, who had once been her master, bit her lip. In the past, she would have unleashed a thunderous scolding right there. But now, that was an absurd thought. The one in the weaker position, the one who needed something, was her.

“So…”

She had just heard the news that Yeon So-hyeon was shaking the Council of Elders to its core with a series of re-votes. “This aunt is telling you that she wants to try again, with you, Seo-rin. To seriously aim for the highest place in this Sword Clan.”

For the sake of Yeon Seo-rin, who clearly wasn’t listening.

“Together, you and I can do it.” She tried once more, pouring sincerity into her words. “I will apologize for everything in the past. For deceiving you about your father. For using that to bind you, for trying to manipulate you as I pleased.”

The Great Supreme Retired Patriarch of the Sword Clan was her younger brother. And he was a wall she had never once been able to overcome.

To surmount that wall, she could bend her pride as much as necessary.

“Seo-rin, so please…”

But…

“~~~~♪”

Her former disciple, whom she had met after a long time with great determination, seemed to be listening with one ear and letting it out the other. Yeon Seo-rin hummed a tune she must have picked up on the streets, completely engrossed in polishing her father’s sword. Regardless of what had transpired during her months of martial arts training, Yeon Seo-rin’s disheveled hair and worn-out, dirty martial attire would have made her appear like a savage.

But why?

To the Guard Pavilion Head’s eyes, that image of Yeon Seo-rin—

“~~~~♪”

—looked so incredibly free.

Perhaps that was the reason. From her own lips, which had been so eager to convince the returned Seamless Heavenly Robe, unexpected words flowed out.

“How did you manage to become free so effortlessly?”

“……”

Yeon Seo-rin’s humming ceased. “All my life,” she murmured, lifting her father’s sword, now gleaming under her care. As she spoke, she inspected it closely. “There was a sword I yearned to possess.”

The Guard Pavilion Head, observing the antique and elegant blade, nodded in understanding. “You mean your father’s sword? That holds the same significance for me. To all warriors, that sword—“

“No,” Yeon Seo-rin interrupted gently. “The sword I sought was not my father’s.”

The Guard Pavilion Head’s expression shifted from understanding to surprise.

“The first time I laid eyes on that sword was when I was young,” Yeon Seo-rin began, her voice calm and steady. “It was the day So-hyeon first grasped a sword. I was there.”

“Yeon So-hyeon…?”

Hearing this secret history for the first time in her life, the Guard Pavilion Head’s eyes trembled. “He held a sword?”

A few months ago, after ending his seclusion, Yeon So-hyeon had revealed his martial arts skill for the first time in the Valley of Sins. This revelation had been instrumental in dispelling the disgraceful nickname of “Swordless One” that had plagued him for so long.

However, even after that, Yeon So-hyeon had never once held a sword.

“How could that sight be called the sword stance of a child holding a blade for the first time?”

With a calm voice, Yeon Seo-rin spoke of the image that was etched most vividly in her memory.

“How could that presence be called the killing intent of a child who had never once hurt another person?”

“It was the figure of one who had achieved a school of their own with the sword—a Sword Hero.”

Yeon Seo-rin asserted firmly.

“That child, So-hyeon, was a complete martial warrior and a perfect martial artist from the very beginning.”

If this story had come from anyone else’s mouth, the Guard Pavilion Head would have scoffed.

“Immediately after, Father discovered the scene. He turned deathly pale and snatched the sword away. Since then, So-hyeon never held a sword again, but—“

However, the one telling this story now—

“—I have never once forgotten that sword.”

—was her former disciple, praised as the greatest martial talent in the history of the Sword Clan, Seamless Heavenly Robe.

“Wasn’t that when you were a child?” The Guard Pavilion Head cautiously expressed her doubt, as the story was too difficult to believe fully. “Memory is an imperfect and profound thing. Sometimes, it’s remembered differently from the facts, exaggerated. So—“

“No,” Yeon Seo-rin smiled at the Guard Pavilion Head, who was struggling to deny it. “I saw that sword again a few months ago.”

“What?”

“A few months ago. Do you recall the day I visited Wongakjeong?”

The day Dasunrang had arrived at the Luoyang Sword Clan, and Yeon Seo-rin was said to have driven away the Emei Sect.

“Well, I remember it, but—“

“To me, who had to bear the entire future of this massive family in place of my absent father and sister.”

The Guard Pavilion Head, the very person responsible for placing that heavy burden on her shoulders, had to close her mouth.

“So-hyeon came to me while I was wandering the garden of Wongakjeong, unable to sleep. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t try to persuade me. Instead, that rascal So-hyeon showed me just a single sword strike, unfolded with his Sword Finger Technique.”

“…What was that strike?”

“That sword was—“

At that moment.

Chill.

The Guard Pavilion Head, a master who had crossed the wall, was also a formidable opponent. As a chilling sensation, sharp enough to sting the air itself, coursed through her skin, she instinctively turned her head.

“This is…?!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with disbelief.

The source of this sensation was far away, in the direction of the Council of Elders. It was a feeling she couldn’t forget, even in her dreams. It felt as if space itself was being sliced open. The Great Supreme Retired Patriarch’s Exclusive Martial Art and Renowned Ultimate Technique—her younger brother, who had dominated her life as an insurmountable wall.

“Yes,”

Yeon Seo-rin, who had approached the dumbfounded Guard Pavilion Head, replied, her eyes fixed on the same direction. She then moved her lips, as if to convey something profound.

“That sword strike—“

That single strike, originating from the direction of the Council of Elders,

Pierced through the outer walls.

A thin, yet incredibly distinct streak of sword light.

As if engaging in calligraphy upon the summer azure sky.

It was leaving a scar, impossibly high up.

“—Father’s Renowned Ultimate Technique, Life-Severing.”

As if relishing that enchanting sensation once more, Yeon Seo-rin spoke with an expression of awe. “That sword is the very same strike So-hyeon demonstrated to me that night at Wongakjeong,” she said. “And the sword that shattered all my chains.”

***

Namgung Hyuk-cheon, who had rushed out into the inner garden, was looking up at the sky.

“Elder Namgung…!”

“D-Did you see that…?!”

“That’s the Great Supreme Retired Patriarch’s…!”

The shouts of the Third Young Master’s faction elders sounded distant to his ears.

Gooooooo-.

A streak of sword light so long it could be compared to a massive summer cumulonimbus cloud. A wondrous single strike leaving a scar on the azure sky.

That was,

To anyone of the Namgung Imperial Family of this era,

A sight like a nightmare they could never forget.

Even before the founding of the Central Plains Nation.

Originally, the most formidable sword in this land belonged to the Namgung Clan, known as the Emperor Sword Form. Their Azure Heavens Boundless Sword Art symbolized the Central Plains, making them the true Sword Clan. At the pinnacle of their hierarchy stood the Sword King, the Supreme Being of the Namgung Clan.

No.

Was called.

That particular day.

The day the Namgung Clan blocked the main force of the Luoyang Sword Clan, which was trying to head to Jiangnan.

“Is that man the Patriarch of the Sword Clan?”

“He’s still young.”

The Namgung sword art, once vast and distant like the endless azure sky, was left with an indelible scar. The revered Sword Form, once hailed as the Emperor, was cast down into the dirt.

“Impossible?!”

“Is that man even human?!”

Since then, the name “Sword Clan” exclusively referred to the Luoyang Sword Clan. Consequently, the Sword Clan Patriarch of that era was revered as…

The Number One Sword under the Heavens.

That was Yeon So-hyeon’s father.

The Great Supreme Retired Patriarch of the Luoyang Sword Clan.

Yeon Geom-woon.

Now,

“Has the Great Supreme Retired Patriarch risen from his sickbed…?!”

“What…?!”

“The Great Supreme Retired Patriarch…?!”

To the stunned elders of the Third Young Master’s faction, Namgung Hyuk-cheon’s voice carried through the air. “…No.” His voice trembled with a mix of rage, despair, and pain. “That is…” He struggled to maintain control over his voice, but the trembling persisted. “…the Grand Young Master’s sword.”

“…”

“……!!”

Everyone gaped, mouths hanging open in shock.

Namgung Hyuk-cheon clenched his fist tight.

—“While you are saying that, you have already fallen one step further behind.”

The conversation he had with the Chief Steward of the Inner Court flashed through his mind.

—“You. You all still do not grasp the situation well.”

The Chief Steward of the Inner Court had raised a thin, wrinkled hand and pointed at Namgung Hyuk-cheon.

—“For you. For those who carry the blood of Namgung, the worst enemy is not the Heavenly Wicked Hegemons, nor the Sichuan Tang Family. Nor is it the Patriarch currently lying in bed.”

The Chief Steward of the Inner Court pointed outward, toward the Council of Elders.

—“It is the Grand Young Master over there.”

***

Council of Elders, Grand Assembly Hall.

Dribble, dribble.

Dust fell from the ceiling, landing on the corpse of the Yeon Clan elder, who had been split in half and hurled to the ground. The sharpness of that single strike was truly remarkable. It seemed as if pressing the corpse back together along the clean, straight cut surface might just bring it back to life and restore its breathing.

The elders, without even stepping outside, knew that single strike, which had shattered the wall of the Grand Assembly Hall, must have left an indelible mark on the sky. That was why they had forgotten to breathe until Yeon So-hyeon finally spoke.

“Bastards who don’t know their place.”

Would it have been like this if the thunderous command of the previous Patriarch had fallen?

“…”

The elders who met his gaze flinched violently and averted their eyes. The Yeon Clan elders, facing those eyes glowing blue with ghostly aura, felt their entire bodies turning cold as ice.

“Not a single copper coin, down to the very last one in this Sword Clan, is property for the likes of you.”

Would it feel like this to be dropped naked onto the frozen earth of the Snow Kingdom beyond the north?

“Not a single blade, down to the very last one in this Sword Clan, is a sword for the likes of you.”

Would it feel like this to be plunged into the yellow waters of the Yellow River, lungs filling with water?

“Not a single grain of rice, down to the very last one in this Sword Clan, is food for the likes of you.”

Would it feel like this to kneel before the Judge of Hell after death?

“Not a single thing in this Sword Clan. Not even the very last thing… belongs to the likes of you.”

Only then did the elders realize.

The Grand Young Master.

Yeon So-hyeon’s true face.

Was not the insight that pierced everyone’s guard and foresaw a thousand li while sitting in a room.

Nor was it the strategy called Divine Calculation that held the world in its hand and shook it.

“All of you will have to remember this from now on.”

It was the Way of the Supreme Ruler.

More than the smell of blood from the corpse wafting in all directions, the vivid, metallic scent of killing intent originating from the Grand Young Master’s body pierced their nasal cavities and embedded itself in their brains.

“This Sword Clan.”

With an arrogant gaze that overwhelmed everyone, the Grand Young Master proclaimed.

“Belongs to me, Grand Young Master Yeon So-hyeon.”