Chapter 239

I opened my eyes.

I’d shut them reflexively at the suddenness of it, and only now did I manage to open them again.

‘What is this?’

I furrowed my brow as I took in the situation.

‘Is it... open?’

Are my eyes even open right now? I’m putting strength into my eyelids, but I can’t see anything.

My senses dulled.

Ah—. Ah—.

‘...Ha.’

I tried to speak, but it didn’t feel like anything came out.

Exactly like Do Hyeong said.

‘Like my five senses are broken.’

Sight, hearing, smell—everything felt wrong, like it had malfunctioned.

It was disgusting. So this is what it feels like when your senses break.

‘...I’m going to lose it.’

I didn’t think he’d shove a secret art into me right off the bat.

I figured he’d fight for a while before using it.

‘So he’s serious.’

Don’t let your guard down.

Just like his warning—Black-Grand Saber Peng Dojin looked like he really meant to fight.

‘This is bad.’

That monster charging in for real.

What could be more terrifying?

‘SSSS.’

What do I do? I rolled my eyes, tense to the limit—

[Kid.]

“......!”

I heard Yoo Cheongil’s voice. Ah. So I can still hear this old bastard, at least.

I’d barely had time to feel relieved when—

[Duck.]

Yoo Cheongil spoke.

And I lowered my head.

SWISH.

A short sound cut through.

[Half-step back. Twist your upper body to ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) the left.]

I moved as told.

SWISH—.

The sound came again.

[Rotate to the right with your ankle.]

[Stop. Jump back—just like that.]

[From where you land, dip your head about a handspan, and drive in.]

I moved exactly as instructed.

I still couldn’t see, and I still couldn’t feel anything, but I followed his words.

[Clench your left fist, and swing it up diagonally.]

I clenched—

KRAK—!

And threw the punch.

In that instant—

BOOM—!!

A shallow sensation brushed the end of my fist.

I’d felt nothing until now, but this time it was faint—yet clear.

—Kgh.

A stifled sound.

And then—

WHOOO—.

The darkness spread around me thinned, just a little.

Only then could I see.

“Cough.”

Black-Grand Saber Peng Dojin was collapsed in front of me.

He was clutching his abdomen, choking as he wheezed.

‘.......’

Watching him, I understood what had happened.

I followed the instructions, and the hit had landed.

‘...So he can see.’

Is it because he’s a ghost?

Or is it something else?

Even inside this barrier, Yoo Cheongil seemed to see perfectly.

And if I followed his words, it didn’t matter whether my five senses were paralyzed or not.

Which meant—

‘I can win.’

It meant I could beat Black-Grand Saber Peng Dojin.

If I followed Yoo Cheongil.

“.......”

Beating Black-Grand Saber Peng Dojin.

If I just followed Yoo Cheongil, it felt like it would definitely happen.

But—

‘What is this?’

It felt off.

[Kid.]

Yoo Cheongil spoke again.

[It doesn’t sit right with you, does it?]

“.......”

He nailed it.

Yoo Cheongil looked at my face like he’d read everything, then let out a small chuckle.

[Do you know what that feeling is?]

Like he already knew the answer, Yoo Cheongil whispered in my ear.

[It’s not fun.]

‘What?’

Not fun?

[If you win like that. It won’t be fun for you. Even if you win this fight because you’re being guided by my hand—you already know it means nothing.]

“.......”

I thought it was nonsense.

Not fun? What the hell is that?

‘Since when did I ever chase fun?’

What I wanted in life in the Central Plains wasn’t fun.

I’d never lived a life that chased something like that.

And now—

‘You’re saying I find brawling fun?’

I couldn’t accept that.

But—

‘...Is it true?’

I couldn’t deny the situation with certainty.

Because I really did feel that discomfort.

[Heh heh heh.]

Yoo Cheongil laughed like he liked this.

And that laugh—especially—made me furious.

That “I knew it” attitude got under my skin.

And what pissed me off even more was—

‘Me.’

That I couldn’t say, with absolute confidence, that he was wrong.

That I couldn’t say, No, I don’t like this.

That made me even angrier.

[Don’t worry.]

Yoo Cheongil added.

[I only helped because I didn’t want to watch you stand there like an idiot and get beaten up by that Blade God bastard’s grandson. If my successor loses in a single blow, it’s embarrassing for me.]

“.......”

[From here on, I’ll keep my mouth shut. Enjoy it. The rest is for you to figure out.]

From here on, he wouldn’t help.

At that, I frowned.

Somehow—

‘He told me to punch, not swing my sword.’

If I’d struck with my sword in the situation he’d created, I might’ve ended the bout right there.

He had to know that.

And yet he told me to punch.

Which meant Yoo Cheongil didn’t want it to end either.

“Kh. Ptoo.”

Black-Grand Saber Peng Dojin spat and pushed himself up.

Maybe the impact still lingered in his abdomen—he kept rubbing it, shock filling his face.

“...Damn. That’s a hell of a surprise. How did you do that? You couldn’t see anything.”

“.......”

I couldn’t see.

Someone else did.

“Yeah. It wasn’t my imagination. Little Sword Saint. You really are the real thing.”

His eyes were thick with belief.

That gaze felt heavy—stifling.

I wasn’t someone who deserved expectations like that.

“...I like it. I’m glad I chose to fight you. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.”

HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Black-Grand Saber Peng Dojin laughed.

Even though his secret art hadn’t worked, even though he’d taken a hit, he laughed like that.

“If that was you showing you’re not letting your guard down, I’ll take that lesson to heart. I’m going again.”

WHOOOOSH—!!

Energy burst out and covered my vision again.

The darkness that had thinned for only a moment filled instantly.

My five senses scattered again.

As numbness returned, anxiety rose all over again.

[Kid.]

Yoo Cheongil spoke.

[Before I shut my mouth, I’ll give you one piece of advice.]

His voice sounded... a little farther away.

Was that my imagination?

[Think of the moon.]

No—it wasn’t imagination.

Yoo Cheongil’s voice really was receding.

[Think of the moon. It will show you a path.]

His voice drifted farther and farther, until I couldn’t hear it anymore—

WHACK—!!

“......!”

A jolt of agony tore through me.

My upper body had been cut.

“Kgh—!”

I clutched my chest.

And I learned one thing about Black Cloud.

Black Cloud didn’t numb every sense.

Just one.

‘...It leaves pain alone?’

It let me feel pain exactly as it was.

*****

If you had to sum up Peng Dojun’s life in a single word, you could call it arrogance.

He was different from the moment he was born.

At the age of five, he picked up a blade and knocked down his own brothers who were over ten.

And once he began learning the Peng Clan’s martial arts in earnest, he was enough to captivate not only his father, but the entire council of elders.

The body the Peng Clan had longed for.

He could copy any movement after seeing it once.

His senses were so highly developed that they surpassed even those who had already mastered martial arts.

And heightened senses also meant he could read the flow of inner power more clearly—

He could control inner power completely, and that inner power distributed more efficiently through his developed body.

In other words—

—A body born to become a martial artist.

The Heaven-Martial Body that everyone in the Central Plains dreamed of and treated like a fantasy.

That was what people called Peng Dojun’s natural body.

And it was enough to make him the Peng Clan’s miracle.

He had no rival among his peers.

He was enough to satisfy the Clan Head’s hopes and the elders’ expectations.

The day it became clear that the position of heir apparent would be Peng Dojun’s, over all his brothers—

‘Boring.’

Peng Dojun lived with that word on his tongue.

‘It’s not fun.’

Life was dull and meaningless.

It was the opposite of all the expectations piled on him.

‘Is there anything fun?’

He said it while picking his nose.

Even then, his older brother was lying in front of him, beaten into a lump of blood.

There was no rival among his peers anymore.

Learning martial arts was too easy, so it wasn’t fun.

Fighting was meaningless because he won too easily.

Boring.

Boring again.

Peng Dojun’s eyes always carried that look.

Arrogance born from a Heaven-Martial Body.

Laziness that came from knowing he could beat anyone.

Those things swallowed up everything Peng Dojun was.

And then—

‘My name is Murong Yeongsun.’

That day, Peng Dojun saw her.

A Murong Clan blood relative who’d come for an agreement with the Peng Clan.

A woman his own age, appearing as the Silk King’s representative.

She stole every sense Peng Dojun had.

‘...Wow....’

With senses as sharp as his, he could tell.

Ugly things felt uglier.

Beautiful things felt more beautiful.

And those senses went numb the moment he looked at Murong Yeongsun.

A flower was standing there.

How could someone be that beautiful?

The boredom that had filled him was snuffed out in an instant.

Peng Dojun had no restraint.

Arrogance made that possible.

‘Hey.’

At Peng Dojun’s call, Murong Yeongsun—who had been about to leave—turned her head.

‘Looks like I like you. Do you have someone?’

“.......”

Murong Yeongsun frowned at his words.

Even that expression was beautiful to Peng Dojun.

‘No? Then should I—’

‘I do.’

‘You do?’

‘Yes. I do. A very impressive fiancé.’

‘Hahaha.’

He laughed when he heard it.

Ridiculous. Who in the world could be better than him?

That was what Peng Dojun truly believed at the time.

‘I’m better than that man. Why don’t you just come to me.’

He said words that would’ve made the Peng Clan Head vomit blood if he’d heard them.

He was immature back then.

Or—

Maybe not.

It felt like he’d say the same thing even now.

Come to me.

No one is better than me.

He said it with absolute confidence, but—

‘Not sure. I don’t think so.’

Murong Yeongsun’s eyes were endlessly cold.

‘You don’t think so? Why? Is he strong?’

‘He’s strong. If you fight him, you’d probably lose.’

‘Then he’s weak.’

‘No.’

Murong Yeongsun cut him off firmly.

‘A weak body doesn’t mean someone is weak. Even if his body is weak, he’s truly strong.’

‘What kind of bullshit is that?’

Weak is weak.

Strong but weak—what kind of nonsense was that?

‘I don’t understand. Just come to me. I’ll make you happy.’

When he pushed back because he couldn’t understand, Murong Yeongsun sighed deeply and spoke.

‘You don’t seem to get it, so I’ll tell you.’

Murong Yeongsun stepped closer.

It was the first time.

The first day Peng Dojun ever stepped backward in front of someone.

‘Even if I didn’t have someone, it still wouldn’t be you. So don’t think useless things.’

‘Why?’

‘Because to give me to you... you have a fatal problem.’

‘What is it. If you want, I’ll fix it.’

He was confident.

There was no way he lacked anything, but if she wanted, he’d fix whatever it was.

At that, Murong Yeongsun let out a small laugh and said—

‘Ignorant.’

“...What?”

‘I hate stupid people more than anything. So you won’t do.’

Blunt and final.

Leaving that behind, Murong Yeongsun walked away.

‘...What?’

That day, Peng Dojun couldn’t say a single word.

He could only stand there.

After standing in a daze for a long time—

‘I like her.’

Peng Dojun nodded.

It seemed like he couldn’t accept anyone but that woman.

So he looked into it.

Who she was.

Who the man was that “had” her.

It didn’t take long to find out.

‘Huh?’

Murong Yeongsun didn’t have anyone.

Or rather, she had, and then she didn’t.

‘The Bang Clan of Liaoning?’

A few years ago, she’d been engaged to the Bang Clan of Liaoning—but the engagement had been broken long ago.

Then why did she say she had a fiancé?

‘...Bang Sungyeon.’

Even her ex-fiancé was a nobody he barely knew.

Other than being younger than him, there was almost nothing known about him.

‘Why this bastard?’

Was this really the man Murong Yeongsun meant?

Weak but strong.

It was still something he couldn’t understand.

Weak but strong didn’t exist.

Then, when he finally met him face-to-face later, he thought he understood.

‘So that’s it.’

She said he was strong because he was simply strong.

Because Bang Sungyeon was ridiculously strong.

That was why Murong Yeongsun called him strong.

Weak but strong—nonsense like that didn’t exist after all.

That’s what he would’ve concluded.

But—

“Cough.”

Peng Dojun looked at the young man collapsed in front of him and thought—

“What are you doing?”

Peng Dojun spoke.

His voice was full of anger.

“I asked what you’re doing.”

Maybe he couldn’t hear his voice.

The bastard just lay there on the ground, bleeding.

“Answer me.”

Peng Dojun stared down at him.

“—Little Sword Saint.”

Peng Dojun’s voice was packed with anger and doubt.