Translator: Nox
Chapter: 3
Chapter Title: Do You Know Why We Use Sabers?
The practice saber was heavy.
Even though Hyeon-do’s body looked like that of a ten-year-old, it had already been tempered with internal energy.
He had enough strength to knock out a thug with a casual punch, yet the Peng Sect’s sabers were still heavy.
‘If I’m not careful, I’ll dislocate something.’
Only those born with divine strength could endure the harsh training and truly become members of the Peng Sect.
Hyeon-do stood silently, holding a saber half his height.
Then came a voice in his ear—Peng Mu-hyeok.
[“Do you know why our sect uses sabers?”]
“Because swords break too easily?”
[“That’s not wrong. But think deeper—go to the root.”]
It was a cryptic riddle.
Mu-hyeok observed the way Hyeon-do gripped the saber — both hands, firmly, like someone who had handled weapons many times.
Were there any in the Peng Sect these days who truly understood the origin behind their use of sabers?
He watched with anticipation.
Hyeon-do, meanwhile, pondered the deeper intent behind the question.
‘Peng Sect... sabers... martial arts... thunderforce...’
Crack—
As his thoughts deepened, his small reservoir of internal energy responded.
Mu-hyeok clicked his tongue.
[“Tch... he’s already able to move his internal energy by will alone?”]
This wasn’t mere talent.
This was monstrous.
Had anyone in martial history shown talent like this?
Hyeon-do slowly opened his mouth.
“Unity flows in a single direction.”
[“Exactly!”]
“The Peng Sect uses sabers... because of thunderforce.”
[“Yes! Thunderforce is a power that flows in one direction. To maximize that power, we wield sabers — so that energy flows purely and forcefully in one direction!”]
People called the Peng Sect brutish?
Don’t say that again.
Hyeon-do now respected the Thunderforce Grandmaster behind the Mixed-Origin Thunderforce Divine Art.
Mu-hyeok had said it — the saber, with its speed and directionality, was the perfect weapon for thunderforce.
‘Makes sense. That’s why they chose sabers.’
They had built martial techniques that symbolized thunder and lightning.
To deliver a faster, more destructive strike — you needed speed, power, and a strong body.
Hyeon-do smiled.
The Peng Sect was cooler than he thought.
And the way the saber fit perfectly in his hand confirmed it — he really did have the “Saber Master” trait.
Left to right.
Bottom to top.
Top to bottom.
Thoughts of how to channel all his strength into one concentrated blow flowed naturally through his mind.
[“Your posture’s decent. But your raw strength and stamina are still lacking. You’ll need a lot more training.”]
“I know.”
If he didn’t have divine strength, he’d have collapsed already.
But that just meant training was the next step.
Training? He had no problem with that.
He’d trained beggars into supreme masters. He knew what to do.
‘I even unified the martial world once using only the Three Talent Sword Art.’
Whoooosh—
The saber swung again.
And one by one, people began gathering in the grand training hall.
“...Second Young Master?”
“Why is the youngest out here...?”
Normally, Hyeon-do never stepped out of his annex.
The youngest son who had given up on the future, choosing to live lazily, was now swinging a saber.
What was going on?
It was natural that all eyes turned to him.
---
“Lord, the Son Clan’s guest has arrived.”
“Mmm. Then let us go.”
The Peng Clan Head, Peng Jin-mu, slowly rose from his seat.
Today was important.
A chance to open a new financial pipeline for the clan.
And a chance to show the world that the Peng Sect still lived.
Jin-mu and the other key members of the clan made their way quietly to the manor’s entrance.
There, wearing a red robe with golden embroidery, stood a man.
This was the client — Son Ji-chang of the Jiangxi Son Clan.
One of the top five powerhouses on the continent, master of the Yellow Crane Tower, and a peak-level martial artist despite being in his early thirties.
He silently observed the Peng manor, and the pressure around him was palpable.
Jin-mu admired him quietly.
‘Will our clan ever shine like that again?’
He offered a greeting.
Proper etiquette would have the guest greet first — but Son Ji-chang kept his chin high.
“I am Peng Jin-mu. Welcome, Lord of the Scarlet Flame Sword.”
“Son Ji-chang. Pleased to meet you.”
The fact that the head of a clan had to greet first — it was an insult.
The others in the welcome party frowned.
Even if the Peng Sect had fallen, there was still a hierarchy in Murim.
“Come in. Let us speak inside.”
“Very well.”
Son Ji-chang gave a faint smirk and followed with slow, relaxed steps, hands clasped behind his back.
It was enough to irritate anyone.
The Clan Head sent a sound transmission.
–Do nothing. The tides can turn at any time.
–Understood, Clan Head.
–Act rashly, and we’ll only become laughingstocks.
–...Yes.
They all understood.
A crumbling clan.
No new disciples.
No longer a name that carried prestige — now just an old sect being pushed aside.
But now wasn’t the time to get emotional.
They had to bide their time.
Many in Murim said the Peng Sect was just brute strength.
But no.
‘We must analyze the situation calmly. Until we can snap those arrogant bastards’ noses.’
Jin-mu, the steward, and Son Ji-chang sat in the reception room.
It was awkward seeing the clan’s daughter serve tea and snacks.
“Please enjoy.”
“Thank you, my dear.”
Peng Mi-yeon.
A girl in her mid-teens, just beginning to bloom, set down cups and cheap market snacks.
Son Ji-chang picked one up, inspected it, and set it down again, brushing his fingers dismissively.
‘That arrogant bastard...’
Crack—
The steward clenched his fist but said nothing.
Son Ji-chang cut to the chase.
‘Ugh, even the air stinks in here. Another rainfall and the whole place might collapse.’
He gave a dry laugh and looked at Jin-mu.
Once a member of the Five Great Sects — now barely peak-level at age forty-plus.
Where had their peerless techniques gone?
‘The aftermath of the Great War really did a number on them. Lost techniques? Or were they always just fools...’
Some of the Nine Sects had sealed themselves away for decades. Some of the Five Great Sects had completely vanished.
The Great War had redrawn the martial map.
A generational shift.
“One silver per man per day. They’ll come and go. Meals included. What do you say?”
“Hm...”
“It’s not a bad deal. It’ll surely help your clan.”
“It’s not bad. But... something bothers me.”
Jin-mu laughed politely, giving the impression that he would think it over.
Son Ji-chang frowned. He’d expected an immediate ‘yes’.
Still playing hard to get?
He calmly lifted the teacup.
For cheap tea, the fragrance wasn’t half bad.
This deal was critical.
‘I was so confident this would work. If it fails, it’ll be embarrassing.’
He *had* to get Peng Sect’s warriors under Yellow Crane Tower’s banner.
This was the first step in a larger plan.
While Son Ji-chang struggled to hide his urgency, Jin-mu stood.
“Where are you staying?”
“Why?”
“This is an important decision. We can’t be hasty. One silver... I’ll remember it. I’ll visit in two days.”
“There are many sects vying to sign with us, Clan Head.”
Trying to scare him?
Son Ji-chang was bluffing.
But Jin-mu had experience.
‘He’s nervous... why? Could it be—’
He remembered something his youngest son had said earlier that day.
Was it really worth staining the Peng name with shadows?
Even if money was tight, would that stain one day spread and make the Peng Sect seem unrighteous?
He wanted to think more deeply.
“It may be good to have warriors slightly stronger than us guarding Yellow Crane Tower. Heh. Just give me two days.”
“...Very well.”
“Steward, escort our guest.”
“Yes, Clan Head.”
The steward bowed deeply, his face a mix of satisfaction and concern.
But when he raised his head again, it was all smiles.
“Thank you for your time today, sir.”
“It was... enlightening. A shame. I thought this would be the beginning of a strong alliance.”
“Haha. You never know. We might end up closer than you think.”
Jin-mu’s response was smooth.
Son Ji-chang simply cupped his fist and left, hiding his frustration.
“Allow me to escort you.”
“......”
After he left, Jin-mu’s face hardened.
He turned to Mi-yeon.
“Mi-yeon.”
“Yes, Father?”
“Go fetch your younger brother.”
“...Got it.”
He wanted to hear more.
Was it just a sudden spark of brilliance?
Or had he been waiting for this moment?
The Clan Head’s footsteps toward the meeting room were heavy.
【To be continued in Chapter 4】
