Namgung Clan
The two guards answered reluctantly.
"Anyway, you're a physician, right? We can't leave our post, so if you have business, go inside and handle it yourself."
"Is that so? Then it can't be helped."
It seemed they were standing guard at the entrance in case martial artists of the Demonic Cult or the Evil Factions tried to intrude.
Tang Mujin and Goiyi left the guards behind, passed through the main gate, and entered.
Perhaps because it was a banquet held by a renowned sword clan, nine out of ten people in the courtyard appeared to be martial artists.
Quite a few among them recognized Goiyi, but their reactions varied.
Some approached with a friendly smile to greet him lightly, while others turned around in a hurry as though they had encountered someone they should never meet.
"What on earth did you do to make people look at you like that?"
"As I said before, it's better to be a mad dog than a fool."
"Well, mad dogs come in different breeds too… Oh, someone's waving over there."
"That's the Venomous Eagle Sword, Namgung Jinya. He's the younger brother of Namgung Jincheon, the clan head of the Namgung family. A peak-level master."
"Oh, you even know the clan head's younger brother? Your connections are really something, old man."
"Whether good ties or bad ones, few people have as wide a network as I do. Traveling the world means exactly that."
Tang Mujin observed Namgung Jinya.
Though he lacked his left arm, he had a robust build, thick brows, and a warm, open expression. Handsome enough that anyone would call him a fine man.
Namgung Jinya strode straight toward Goiyi.
"It's been a long time, Ichung."
"Nearly ten years, hasn't it, Namgung Jinya? How's that left arm I cut off? Still itch when it rains?"
For a moment, Tang Mujin almost spat out a curse.
Cutting off the clan head's younger brother's arm and then boldly walking into the Namgung Clan? Tang Mujin immediately stepped five paces away from Goiyi's side.
Namgung Jinya, seeing this, burst into hearty laughter.
"You still have that bad habit of speaking strangely. Don't you see how nervous this young man looks?"
"Hehe."
"Young friend, don't worry. It wasn't Ichung who cut off my left arm, but a hired assassin called the Shadowless Guest."
"Oh, so that was just a lie? Really, old man, acting your age would be nice…"
"It wasn't a lie. The Shadowless Guest's dagger was poisoned, and my left arm began to rot. This fellow cut away my upper arm and treated me. It's true he lopped off about three inches of my arm."
Goiyi chuckled, and Namgung Jinya smiled gently as though accustomed to his odd behavior—a warm, generous smile, unusual for a martial man.
"In any case, this is the first time I've seen you traveling with someone. Who's the young man?"
"Just a physician I happened to travel with. He also has business with the Namgung Clan."
"Business?"
"You know Namgung Myeong, right?"
"Of course. How could I not know my eldest nephew?"
So Namgung Myeong was indeed the eldest son of the clan head, Namgung Jincheon.
Tang Mujin pricked up his ears to hear how Goiyi would explain. But Goiyi, instead of beating around the bush, spoke bluntly.
"That boy brought a sword, didn't he? Plain looking, with a crudely made wooden handle and a boring scabbard."
"Yes. It was because of that sword that this banquet was held."
"That sword belongs to this fellow. Namgung Myeong stole it and ran."
Namgung Jinya's face stiffened.
"Hey. Everyone knows you're mischievous, but jokes like that aren't allowed."
"Namgung Jinya. Do you think I wouldn't know that?"
Silence.
The two men locked eyes for a long moment.
"…So it wasn't a joke. What happened?"
"Simple. We were sailing down the Yangtze River when Namgung Myeong grabbed the sword and fled."
Namgung Jinya closed his eyes and sighed.
"Myeong-ah… Your knowledge may be shallow, but that's no excuse for such an act…"
"You believe my words over your nephew's?"
"If it's him, it's possible. He grew up without mother or siblings, endlessly whipped forward to strive and strive. He struggled desperately but was never once recognized by his father."
"Hmm."
"Do you believe me if I say this is the first time I've ever seen him praised by his father, or seen him look so happy?"
Tang Mujin glanced toward the head table. There sat a stern-faced middle-aged man—Namgung Jincheon—with Namgung Myeong by his side, looking as happy as a child.
But Goiyi did not look at Namgung Myeong, focusing only on the conversation.
"So Namgung Myeong lacks talent compared to his father?"
"Talent? Not bad. At his age he's nearly at the peak of first-rate, so you can't call it late achievement. But he's not among the very best of his generation."
"And even that wasn't enough? Namgung Jincheon must be a twisted man indeed."
"Such is the burden of a sword clan's head. One must run all their life, or be left behind and die."
Namgung Jinya shook his head, seemingly grateful he was not the clan head himself.
"In any case, if this story spreads in public, it won't end with just a whipping. At best he'll have his energy core destroyed; at worst, be thrown into a dungeon."
The one most shocked by this was Tang Mujin.
"Not an enemy, but his own son—and he'd punish him like that?"
"The honor of the clan name is not lightly earned. If his own son defiles it, the clan head must treat him as an enemy. Young physician, what is your name?"
"I'm Tang Mujin."
Namgung Jinya hesitated, then took Tang Mujin's hand.
"Physician Tang. Please. Could you overlook Myeong's mistake just this once? I will surely repay you in his stead."
At that, Goiyi slapped away Jinya's hand and growled.
"Don't spout nonsense, Namgung Jinya. Spoken that way, it's not a plea but a threat."
"That was not my intent."
"Intent doesn't matter. Besides, asking someone who was robbed of his sword to overlook it? And you, of the Namgung Clan, who revere the sword—how can such words come from your mouth? Unbelievable."
"…Didn't you say he was a physician?"
"He's a physician and a martial artist. As I am."
"I see."
Even after being rebuked, Namgung Jinya once more turned to Tang Mujin.
"I know it's shameless, but I beg you again."
The back of Namgung Jinya, who had surely stood tall all his life, bent slightly.
He could not show more humility before so many eyes, but had they been alone, he might even have knelt.
Tang Mujin, bewildered, could not decide. Goiyi cut in coldly.
"Don't even suggest such nonsense. The wrongdoer is Namgung Myeong, so he must bear the consequences. The guilty are punished, and the rightful owner gets back what is his. That's justice."
"But…"
"But? There's no such thing. If anyone but me had been traveling with Tang Mujin, he'd never have had a chance to complain and would've lost his sword outright. Namgung Myeong slyly used the clan's authority. Do you really think such a coward deserves to be clan head one day?"
Goiyi's words were reason itself, but delivered with biting harshness. Namgung Jinya faltered, unable to reply.
Before Jinya could speak again, Goiyi strode into the middle of the crowd.
Then he stamped his foot hard.
Boom—
A shockwave spread across the courtyard, dust rising faintly.
Countless eyes turned to Goiyi. The once noisy courtyard fell silent.
The silence was broken by Namgung Jincheon, the clan head.
"A familiar face. Goiyi Ichung. What brings you here?"
"To reclaim a sword."
"A sword? Yours hangs at your waist. Leave."
A low chuckle rippled through the crowd. But Goiyi ignored it.
"You think there's only my sword in the world? The sword I came for isn't mine, but his."
Goiyi pointed at Tang Mujin. Every gaze in the Namgung Clan turned to him.
Tang Mujin felt suffocated. This was different from the weight of blacksmiths' stares.
Until recently, the strongest martial artist he'd spoken with was Jin Song, the chief instructor of the Chengdu branch. Even that first-rate master had seemed lofty.
But here, among hundreds, first-rate masters were as common as stones. There were surely many peak-level masters like Goiyi or Namgung Jinya.
And Namgung Jincheon himself—the Sword Demon—was one of only six super-peak grandmasters in all the martial world.
His gaze pierced Tang Mujin's heart. If anyone could crush a man to death with nothing but his eyes and presence, it would be Namgung Jincheon.
Namgung Jincheon asked:
"What is the meaning of this?"
Tang Mujin steadied himself and glanced around.
Goiyi gave a small nod. It meant: Speak honestly. I'll handle what follows.
"Lord Namgung Myeong—"
At that instant, Tang Mujin saw Namgung Myeong's face.
A look as if he'd fallen from paradise straight into hell. His complexion pale, his eyes trembling wildly.
Goiyi's words about justice. Namgung Jinya's plea for mercy.
And Namgung Myeong's wavering eyes.
Tang Mujin hesitated.
Could he really cast Namgung Myeong into hell over a sword he could forge again any time? Was justice truly a place with no room for mercy?
There was no time to think. No clear answer.
Only this remained: the young physician Tang Mujin was not yet hardened enough.
Tang Mujin cleared his throat a couple of times, then began speaking with a slightly twisted tale.
"I am Tang Mujin. Not long ago, the sword passed down in my family was stolen from me. I searched desperately to recover it, only to find that it seems to have passed through many hands before ending up with Young Lord Namgung Myeong."
Namgung Myeong's eyes still trembled restlessly. Yet perhaps because he thought he hadn't fallen fully into hell, some color returned faintly to his face.
But problems are never solved by mere claims alone.
Namgung Jincheon rose from his seat. A pressure as heavy as Mount Tai pressed down on Tang Mujin.
"Can you prove what you say? If you cannot, you will bear the consequences."
Tang Mujin thought furiously. Was there a way to prove that the Danhon Sword was his?
No. Some artisans engraved their names beneath the hilt or blade, but Tang Mujin had left no such mark on this sword.
The only method he could think of was forging a similar blade to show—but that would make no sense. Who in the world could remake a so-called ancestral heirloom sword from scratch?
Still, if that could stave off disaster, maybe—
Just then, an idea flickered across Tang Mujin's mind.
He didn't know if it would work, but it was worth trying.
Tang Mujin lowered his voice, almost whispering.
"…That sword, the Danhon Sword, holds a secret."
All eyes focused on Tang Mujin's mouth. Namgung Jincheon asked, his tone full of curiosity.
"A secret?"
"Do not be surprised. The Danhon Sword gives birth to offspring."
The crowd listening burst into laughter.
"A sword giving birth? Absurd nonsense!"
"Is he a swindler or a fool? No—both!"
They jeered at Tang Mujin.
Goiyi looked slightly surprised, then grinned at Tang Mujin as if to say: You must have a plan if you're spouting such nonsense. You'll clean up the mess yourself.
Namgung Jincheon regarded Tang Mujin with an unreadable gaze.
Tang Mujin's heart thundered wildly, but his expression did not falter. With the calmest, most brazen look he could muster, he continued:
"It's no joke. If placed in searing fire and in a place devoid of people, and if the secret technique of my clan is performed, the Danhon Sword can give birth to an offspring. In fact, its time of birth is near—within five days, it will bear its young."
Perhaps because Tang Mujin's attitude was so brazen, people, though scoffing, began to look uncertain.
Even more so because the one who had brought Tang Mujin was none other than the eccentric Goiyi Ichung.
Namgung Jincheon turned to Goiyi.
"Is what he says true?"
"Of course."
"Are you certain?"
"I, Ichung, may play many pranks, but I do not lie."
Goiyi grinned even more shamelessly than Tang Mujin. Mischief and faint mockery danced across his face.
His expression seemed to say: What, you've never seen a sword give birth? I have.
Now that the words were out and Goiyi had vouched for them, Namgung Jincheon could not openly dismiss Tang Mujin's claim before so many witnesses.
The clan head nodded, then tossed the Danhon Sword back to Tang Mujin.
"South of here lies a hill. Beneath that hill is an abandoned forge. That should serve well enough as a place with fire."
"Of course."
"In five days' time, if you cannot bring back the sword's offspring, both you and Tang Mujin will forfeit your heads."
"How could it be otherwise? Just see to it that no one interferes."
Goiyi swaggered forward, leading the way, and Tang Mujin followed behind.
Tang Mujin cast a glance over his shoulder. Countless gazes bore into his back.
Scorn, curiosity, and excitement mixed in the martial artists' eyes.
Namgung Jinya's worried gaze followed Tang Mujin and Goiyi.
Namgung Myeong, meanwhile, still looked bewildered, as though unable to grasp what had just unfolded.
Tang Mujin found that dazed expression amusing, and he smirked.
Namgung Myeong. You owe me a great debt.