Long, long ago.
In the history of martial arts spanning thousands of years—a time when Bodhidharma founded Shaolin and Zhang Sanfeng established Wudang in the ancient era of martial legends.
There existed a solitary swordsman.
When he swung his sword, mountains were carved away. When he struck with his blade, seas parted.
When his sword split into nine directions, every martial artist in the realm would hold their breath in anticipation.
The realm called him the Sword God (검신).
The Sword God sought a worthy opponent—not someone stronger than himself, as he already knew such a being did not exist. He simply wanted an equal, someone capable of matching him in battle.
Thus, he embarked on the first martial trial journey in history, the precursor to the legendary Hundred Martial Trials.
As time passed, after encountering every renowned warrior, the Sword God arrived at a profound realization.
There was no one in this vast world who could match his skill.
By then, they had started calling him the Lonely Sword God (독고검신), a title earned due to his solitary travels with no spouse or disciple.
The Lonely Sword God took pride in this title. It suited his sword art, the Nine Swords technique (구검), well. As “Lonely Nine Swords” (독고구검), both the sound and meaning pleased him.
Yet, even the Lonely Sword God harbored regrets.
“I should have visited Bodhidharma before he achieved Nirvana.”
“I should have gone to Wudang before Zhang Sanfeng ascended.”
“I should have met Ye Dongbin before he joined the Seven Immortals.”
Such regrets haunted him.
The Sword God saw these feelings as demons of the mind, troubles that clouded his spirit. So he began to meditate, focusing on overcoming himself.
“If there is no equal in the world, then I shall be my own rival.”
He chose to retreat into seclusion on Mount Hua, a scenic mountain with clear water.
But the martial world would not leave him alone.
They revered, worshipped, and admired the Lonely Sword God.
Those filled with awe followed his regimen. When the Sword God meditated under waterfalls, they followed. When he climbed cliffs, they climbed silently alongside.
The Lonely Sword God spoke not a word, nor showed any interest. He remained focused solely on his duel with himself, for the rest of his life.
Even after his death, those who admired him carried on his practice, eventually forming one of the three great sects of the martial world alongside Shaolin and Wudang—Mount Hua Sect (화산파).
Yet now, the successors of Mount Hua were embarrassingly being crushed by someone from the Namgung family.
Boom!
In front of a young prodigy from Namgung.
“…”
Whoosh!
Su-a Namgung’s movements lacked any intricate techniques. Simply, one strike, another strike, and yet another…
Each swing embodied the essence of the heavy sword (중검) name; steady, neither excessive nor insufficient, and profoundly impactful.
Even Bai Hua, nearly ten years her senior, struggled against them.
“Blue Sky Limitless Sword (창궁무애검).”
In response to Su-a Namgung’s mutterings, a flawless, seamless series of sword strikes overwhelmed Bai Hua.
This was the Blue Sky Limitless Sword—a simple technique yet one that encapsulated the essence of the Namgung swordplay, executed flawlessly.
Clang, Clang, Clang.
Each strike followed a steady rhythm, driving Bai Hua back relentlessly.
“Twenty-Four Hands Plum Blossom Sword Technique (이십사수매화검법)!”
Bai Hua countered, summoning her azure inner energy to infuse her sword with a purple sword qi.
The qi stretched along the thin blade of Hua Sect’s sword, creating a long streak of energy.
“Plum Blossom Shower (낙매분분)!”
Desperation laced Bai Hua’s voice as she called out the technique’s name, revealing the dire straits she was in.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Surprisingly, despite using all her techniques, Bai Hua was barely holding her ground against Su-a Namgung.
Clench.
Bai Hua bit her tongue. She couldn’t overwhelm the younger fighter even with her purple inner energy and sword qi.
‘What… what is this…!’
Certainly, Su-a Namgung was just a child—probably no more than a teenager, almost ten years her junior, small in stature, and dwarfed in height.
And yet, why was she…?
‘Why is she so… solid…!’
Su-a Namgung’s sword swung as if by clockwork, unyielding and precise. Every strike had the weight and firmness of iron and a mountain.
With no feints or deceptive moves, each heavy sword strike moved at a deliberate pace, entirely opposite to Hua Sect’s swift sword art, the fast-sword philosophy.
Crash! Crash! Crash!
‘Hnngh…!’
Bai Hua’s eyes narrowed with venomous frustration. Yet, it made no difference.
Each time Bai Hua increased her inner energy, Su-a Namgung countered with equal force.
She couldn’t advance. She wanted desperately to break through the barrage and demonstrate the true essence of swift swordplay. But instead, even maintaining her ground against Su-a’s pressure was proving too much.
This wounded her pride.
She, who’d boasted about crippling one of the younger generation of warriors, was now losing to someone much younger and inexperienced.
And worse…
‘Why… Why isn’t she using the King Sword Form (제왕검형)?’
Lightning is direct descent from the Namgung family’s lineage — a warrior capable of wielding the King Sword Form.
She was unlike Bai Hua, who’d sold herself to learn the Lonely Nine Swords technique, making her unable to wield it in public tournaments.
Their difference angered her.
‘Am… am I being looked down on?’
Inferiority.
Inferiority based on lineage.
That emotion began to gnaw at Bai Hua.
There’s a saying: A martial artist without an auspicious encounter or noble bloodline is incomplete.
True to some extent. To ascend to the highest realms, one needed an excellent teacher, excellent martial arts, and excellent talent as well.
One must also be born into a family like the Namgung line.
Otherwise, one had to sell oneself or rely on underhanded methods, like Bai Hua.
And that was the only way someone like Bai Hua could overcome someone like Lightning.
At least, that’s what Bai Hua believed.
‘But why!!’
Crash! Crash! Crash!
‘You didn’t sell yourself! You were born into wealth and privilege!!’
Crashhh… Crash! Crash!!
‘Why… why are you better? Why isn’t your final move revealed?!’
Inferiority, jealousy, and envy consumed her.
Bai Hua wanted Su-a Namgung to use the King’s Sword Form.
Because Bai Hua couldn’t use the Lonely Nine Swords in such a setting, she hoped to lose to Su-a Namgung’s ultimate skill and be told by the crowd, “If Bai Hua knew the Lonely Nine Swords, she would’ve won. It’s about martial art techniques.”
Not “Namgung’s Lightning is superior to Bai Hua.”
She desired a private reassurance, even, that if they had met privately, Bai Hua would’ve won.
But Su-a Namgung remained content without using the King’s Sword Form.
As if saying, “This is enough for someone like you.”
The pretense of manners and propriety only served as a thinly veiled dismissal to Bai Hua.
It ignited her rage.
“Plum Blossom Fragrance for Miles (매화만리향)—!”
Suddenly, a faded plum blossom scent erupted from Bai Hua, enveloping the arena.
Her sword swept in a grand arc, sending out a circular blade of energy.
The Plum Blossom Fragrance for Miles, the final move in the Twenty-Four Hands Plum Blossom Sword Technique—a move said to encapsulate the essence of Mount Hua’s arts.
Roar!
“Haaaaaah—!”
“…”
Whistle!
Startled, Su-a Namgung leaped back, creating some distance.
A moment of calm followed their duel.
Bai Hua seized the moment to deliver a secret transmission thought, her thoughts laced with venomous anger.
– Why are you ignoring me?!
– Why aren’t you using the King’s Sword Form? Aren’t you supposed to follow proper propriety?!
– Why don’t you give me your all?! This is Namgung’s way, isn’t it?!
To which Su-a Namgung responded calmly, adjusting her sword, without a flicker of hesitation.
– I am showing you proper respect.
– W-what kind of respect is that?! You need to give your all!
– Respect… towards martial art.
– What…? Ma, martial art?
– To use the King’s Sword Form against you…
Her next words plunged Bai Hua into deep despair.
– Would be an insult to the King’s Sword Form and the Namgung lineage.
– Iiiiiih!!!
– …Not to mention, it would betray the respect owed to the person who taught me this art — my father.
Inferiority.
It gnaws at a person’s soul.
Bai Hua, in the middle of the match, was being consumed by this emotion, exposing her defenses.
Clearly showing her vulnerabilities.
Seizing the opportunity, Su-a Namgung dashed at lightning speed.
Smack!
“Cough…!”
The strike from Su-a Namgung’s sword hilt landed squarely against Bai Hua’s temple.
The blow was neither too strong nor excessive—just precise enough, just fast enough. A perfect strike, devoid of emotions. The kind only true geniuses, who’ve poured blood and sweat into their practice, could hope to achieve.
As the crowd watched in breathless anticipation…
Her eyes rolled back, and Bai Hua’s body collapsed.
She’d lost.
Namgung’s Lightning had defeated Bai Hua.
Fifteen-year-old Namgung girl had bested one of the Seven Flowers of Mount Hua.
“…Wow.”
“Wowww…”
“Wooaaa, wow…”
The spectators, who had been holding their breath, began uttering exclamations one by one, until all at once, they erupted into cheers.
There’s something more exciting than blood—“Heroes” and “Rising Stars.”
“WOOOOOOOOOOO-!! Lightning! Lightning! Lightning!!”
“Amazing! That’s Namgung!”
The very people who had just criticized Su-a Namgung now cheered her on with singular focus.
Such is the nature of martial artists. They revere martial ability and look up to those stronger than themselves.
Of course, not everyone cheered.
“Tch, she’s just showing off her father’s wealth so everyone knows she’s from the Namgung line.”
“So what? Like it matters, when she’s as unpleasant as her ancestors.”
“She’s probably going to act like a lone wolf like Sword Saint in the future. Such a disgraceful lineage.”
Naturally, there were detractors who criticized and belittled her.
But the number of people cheering her far outweighed the critics.
Among those cheering stood Gayoung Jin.
“Wow…! Uncle! Did you see that? What did you think?”
“Well done.”
“Wow… Lightning is much greater than I imagined. Oh, wait, wasn’t it you who taught her?”
“Yes, I personally instructed her in Namgung’s martial arts.”
“Then since I’m your disciple, if Lightning and I were to fight, it would be a match between your students, right?”
“Since when did I become your teacher?”
“Huh? We just skipped the formal bow, but isn’t that still makes me your disciple?”
“…”
Caught off guard by the unexpected declaration of master-disciple relationship, Byul Rak received a teasing comment from Woo-yong Jin.
– Sounds fun.
‘Master.’
– As a father-in-law, I entrust our lineage to you.
‘Uh…’
While Woo-yong Jin teased Byul Rak, the Heavenly Lord (천존) on the arena looked towards the Taewon Jin Clan, his face split into an amiable smile, clearly in high spirits due to some fortunate event in the martial world.
Although his expression turned serious upon seeing Byul Rak.
“Sword Flower, your turn now. Your match against Heavenly Flower remains.”
Hearing the Heavenly Lord’s call, Gayoung Jin turned back with a question.
“Uncle, do you think I can defeat Heavenly Flower…?”
Her voice trembled slightly.
No matter how courageous, the thought of performing martial arts in front of all the martial artists during one of the greatest events, the Seven Flowers Tournament, was nerve-wracking.
To her, Byul Rak responded with a gentle smile.
“Do your best. Through this, you’ll come to fully awaken to your martial arts, and by doing so, you shall naturally prevail.”
“I think… I will likely lose if it’s only me.”
“Ha-ha. Defeating Heavenly Flower is not true victory. True victory lies in overcoming the wall within yourself.”
His meaningful yet somehow persuasive words resonated well with Gayoung Jin. She loosened the heavy White Light Division (월광부) off her body and slowly headed toward the arena.
“I’ll remember that, Uncle. And I…”
Scrape…
The sound of her White Light Division dragging against the stone floor drew the crowd’s attention.
“I have something important to confess to you after this Seven Flowers Tournament.”
Grasping her racing heart, Gayoung Jin paused briefly, then spoke in the gentlest tone she could muster.
“So, after it’s over… you must be by my side. It’s extremely important. Understood?”
