Chapter 576: The Wicked Walk While Being Condemned
It was an unexpected visit from his younger brother.
In truth, Yeon Baekin had been pondering over his brother’s matter just moments before. Could he really entrust his brother to the man who had come from underground? Or should he step in and resolve things himself, no matter what?
But then Yeon Baekjin had come to him first.
"It's been a while since I’ve been here."
Yeon Baekjin looked around the office. It felt awkward to visit his brother after so long.
"Sit."
The two of them sat facing each other at the reception table.
Yeon Baekin poured the cold tea from the teapot on the table into his cup and his brother’s.
A brief silence filled with awkwardness. The one who spoke first was Yeon Baekjin.
"Someone once said this — that warriors only have two ways to resolve conflicts: through words or through the sword."
Yeon Baekin fiddled with his teacup and asked,
"So what did you bring?"
"Depends on your answer."
Yeon Baekjin stared at his brother. Honestly, he wanted to ask directly.
—It was all your doing, wasn’t it?
The death of Instructor Im, the death of Pyo San. That’s why he wanted to scream.
—What the hell are you plotting?
But Yeon Baekjin forced himself to ask calmly.
"Did you know the White Snake Corps infiltrated the White Dragon Branch?"
He had tried to word it indirectly, but Yeon Baekin’s response was cold.
"Why are you suddenly interested in martial hall matters? You never cared before."
Yeon Baekjin’s expression stiffened.
'Why didn’t I care about the martial hall?'
Why he hadn’t cared, why he had pretended not to care—others might not understand, but his brother shouldn’t be saying that.
"Answer the question first."
"And if I say yes? Is your solution going to be the sword?"
He had hoped for a denial. That he had misunderstood everything. But his brother didn’t deny it. That irritable reaction could only mean one thing.
"I told you, didn’t I? From now on, don’t interfere with martial hall matters at all."
"How could I not get involved? It’s our martial hall!"
"Our?"
At his brother’s incredulous reaction, Yeon Baekjin realized it. That all this time, he had been gravely mistaken about one thing.
Yeon Baekjin had believed his brother felt guilty toward him. That he was grateful Yeon Baekjin hadn’t fought over the martial hall’s leadership and had quietly stepped back.
But seeing that reaction now, it was clear his brother saw him as nothing more than a good-for-nothing with no interest in the martial hall.
Ah! Come to think of it, they had never actually talked about that. He had just assumed his brother understood.
"Leave the martial hall."
"What?"
"Go far away. I’ll make sure you have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life."
Yeon Baekjin glared at his brother for a moment and asked,
"And if I don’t? Are you going to kill me or something?"
Since the expected reply—something along the lines of "What are you saying?"—didn’t come, Yeon Baekjin’s voice naturally rose.
"Don’t be mistaken. This martial hall doesn’t belong to you. It carries Father’s lifelong efforts and the dreams of countless officials."
Hearing those words, Yeon Baekin came to a certain realization.
He hadn’t been worrying about his brother until just a while ago because he feared his brother might die. Rather, he had been worried the man from underground might actually save him and resolve things.
Yes, he was someone who couldn’t forgive—even his own brother—if what was his was threatened. He was only a good person when things were going well.
In truth, he had always known. That one day, the moment to kill his younger brother would come.
That thought had been hidden deep inside his heart, buried within a block of ice that would not easily melt.
It hadn’t melted easily, but the ice was clear—always visible. He had merely pretended not to see it.
"You’re making me burn right now, Brother. I would’ve stayed cold forever otherwise. But I will never just sit back and watch you ruin the martial hall Father left behind."
Yeon Baekjin didn’t realize it. The one who had truly started to burn was Yeon Baekin, and the ice hiding his murderous intent had completely melted away.
Just then, as the two stood in tense silence, silently staring each other down, a new visitor arrived.
It was the Sword King, having just finished a class.
The Sword King greeted Yeon Baekjin cheerfully.
"Oh, it’s Martial Artist Yeon!"
But Yeon Baekjin was seeing this man’s face for the first time today.
"I’ve taken on the role of temporary instructor for the White Dragon Class."
Had there been such an instructor in the martial hall? Well, there were so many instructors, after all.
When Yeon Baekjin looked back at his brother, Yeon Baekin was silently staring down at his teacup.
Without offering even a greeting, Yeon Baekjin left the office. As he reached the doorway, he gave the Sword King a sidelong glance.
‘But why would an instructor visit my brother’s office? Especially a temporary one?’
His brother usually only dealt with the Seven Instructors. Matters related to instructors were mostly discussed with the Seven Instructors—especially Gi Seok, whom he used like his own hands and feet.
But now wasn’t the time to question that, so he left without another word.
As he walked, he recalled Geom Mugeuk’s advice.
‘As if things will be resolved through words. Damn it!’
After he left, the Sword King sat in the seat Yeon Baekjin had occupied.
Pouring the cold tea for himself, he took a sip and spoke nonchalantly.
"I can make sure your brother never appears in front of you again."
Yeon Baekin was startled. He took that to mean the Sword King intended to kill his brother.
The Sword King then gave a playful smile.
"Be honest. Didn’t your heart flutter just a little just now?"
Knowing it was a joke, Yeon Baekin turned his unpleasant gaze out the window. He couldn’t get angry at this man anyway, and this man was the type who played around with such jokes without hesitation.
Still facing away, Yeon Baekin shifted the topic.
"How was the class?"
Yeon Baekin knew this man had come up here to find that so-called *demon*. Since he had claimed the position of White Dragon Class instructor, then that demon—more fearsome than any ghost—must be in the White Dragon Class.
The Sword King beamed.
"The class was immensely enjoyable."
Yeon Baekin could feel it—this man was more excited than he had ever seen him before.
"Who is this ‘demon’?"
"It’s better if you don’t know. You must already have enough on your mind."
In truth, Yeon Baekin’s deliberation had already ended. All that remained was how to deliver the decision.
Yeon Baekin conveyed his heart with a single phrase.
"...I was moved."
His head was bowed. He couldn’t meet the Sword King’s eyes. He knew full well what those words meant.
Then came the Sword King’s voice.
"You’re trying to have it both ways again. A brother who wants to kill his own sibling, and yet also a brother who wishes to hold onto a sliver of conscience."
Struck where it hurt, Yeon Baekin couldn’t deny it. Because it was true. He didn’t want to be seen as someone greedy—but rather as someone who had no choice but to kill.
"Lift your head."
Yeon Baekin raised his gaze to meet the Sword King.
"That’s worse than a shameless villain. Because you’re trying to become an evil man while still guarding your own conscience."
After finishing the last sip of tea, the Sword King stood up.
"The wicked walk a path while being condemned the whole way."
* * *
When Gi Seok entered the office in response to being summoned, Yeon Baekin was standing with his back turned, staring out the window.
"You called for me?"
Even after the greeting, he continued gazing out the window in silence.
Having served Yeon Baekin for many years, Gi Seok could guess what that silence meant, especially in times like this.
Gi Seok cautiously asked,
"Have you finally made your decision?"
Sure enough, Yeon Baekin slowly nodded.
It was the decision Gi Seok had been hoping for. The greatest obstacle in this matter had been Yeon Baekjin. Because of him, even Pyo San—his trusted right-hand man—had died.
Yeon Baekin offered no further deliberation, no excuses, no explanations.
"Send word to the White Snake Corps."
Yes, if he was going to walk the path of a villain anyway—
"Send only the best. Make sure they don’t fail."
* * *
The Sword King encountered Geom Mugeuk in the martial training ground of the hall.
In the empty training ground, now vacated by the officials, he was practicing martial arts alone.
Geom Mugeuk was barefoot, holding a wooden sword.
The martial art Geom Mugeuk was performing was the Golden Dragon Sword Art. It was different from the version the Sword King had previously taught.
He was performing a reinterpreted version of the Golden Dragon Sword Art, built upon the Sword King’s teachings.
Whereas the Sword King’s martial art had concealed overwhelming power within its gentle, flowing movements like water, the martial art now unfolding was a wind-based interpretation of the Golden Dragon Sword Art.
The wooden sword in Geom Mugeuk’s hand, which had been moving slowly, picked up speed. The calm breeze that swayed the reeds became a gust climbing up the valley, and soon turned into a typhoon sweeping through the surroundings.
The Sword King felt freedom in the Golden Dragon Sword Art that Geom Mugeuk displayed. A wild and untamed freedom that blew gently one moment and roared like a whirlwind the next.
Once Geom Mugeuk had completed all three forms, the Sword King walked toward him.
"Is this rebellion?"
He meant that Geom Mugeuk hadn’t followed what he’d taught.
"This is all something I learned from you, Instructor."
He was referring to the fact that the Sword King had taught him a reinterpreted version of the Golden Dragon Sword Art. Now he had reinterpreted that reinterpretation.
Almost as if he had been waiting to show him, Geom Mugeuk didn’t even flinch at the Sword King’s sudden appearance.
"You were waiting to show me, weren’t you?"
And he didn’t deny it.
"You're the only one who could recognize it, Instructor."
Though they both knew who the other truly was, Geom Mugeuk treated him as his instructor, and the Sword King treated him as an official trainee.
The Sword King’s gaze dropped to Geom Mugeuk’s bare feet. Though he had said training barefoot was good, Geom Mugeuk might have been the only one who actually put that into practice.
"Training barefoot feels great, doesn’t it?"
It wasn’t just about feeling the earth’s energy. The vivid sensation of each step in the footwork made it easier to pinpoint the exact position of the feet.
"Show me that form again—the one you performed earlier."
Geom Mugeuk demonstrated the three forms of the Golden Dragon Sword Art he had reinterpreted. Once he finished, the Sword King held out his hand.
"Wooden sword!"
Geom Mugeuk rotated the wooden sword and respectfully handed him the hilt. He did so with the solemnity one would use in offering a real sword.
The Sword King took the wooden sword and perfectly reproduced Geom Mugeuk’s forms.
From just one viewing, he had already internalized the reinterpretation of the martial art as his own. To reinterpret a martial art and then reinterpret that again—only those at their level could achieve such a feat.
Then, all of a sudden, the Sword King lunged at Geom Mugeuk in a surprise assault.
Swaaaash!
The Sword King’s wooden sword ripped through the air as it flew at Geom Mugeuk. It wasn’t another martial art. It was the first form of the Golden Dragon Sword Art—executed precisely as Geom Mugeuk had reimagined it.
The three forms followed in rapid succession. The fierce wind became a gust, then surged into a typhoon.
Fwaaah—when the dust that had risen finally settled, the figures of the two could be seen. Geom Mugeuk had evaded the terrifying assault completely.
"Ugh, this damned dust."
The Sword King waved his hand through the air.
Neither of them acted like the sudden ambush had occurred. No one questioned why the attack had happened, and no one offered an apology.
"Yours is better."
The Sword King admitted it honestly. What Geom Mugeuk had reinterpreted was more refined.
Then Geom Mugeuk let out a sigh.
"You’re sighing even though I said yours is better?"
"That’s not why I sighed."
"Then why?"
"I tend to sigh when I see someone cooler than me."
He said it like a joke, but it was sincere. Someone like the Sword King wouldn’t easily admit his own shortcomings. But the Sword King had acknowledged them without the slightest hesitation.
"What’s with the sudden flattery?"
"I’m a shield, after all."
Meaning, he had someone to protect.
"Since I’ve already started flattering, let me finish. The reason mine turned out better is because I reinterpreted from something far too great."
The Sword King’s gaze deepened as he stared at Geom Mugeuk.
"I think I understand a little now."
Though the words lacked context, Geom Mugeuk could guess what he meant. Perhaps he was saying he now understood why the affairs of the organization kept getting thwarted by the Young Cult Leader of the Demonic Cult.
"If you’re a shield, what are you doing here instead of protecting the women you should be guarding?"
"Even a shield needs some rest. Turns out, being a shield isn’t for just anyone."
Even when it was all talk, playing the role of a shield had been exhausting. Lee Ahn, Uncle Hui, and his own guards—it made him feel anew just how difficult it must have been for them.
"A shield really doesn’t suit someone like me who worries about everything."
Then the Sword King asked directly,
"This woman named Lee Ahn, what is she to you?"
"She’s someone like my heart."
At the honest reply, the Sword King looked curious.
"And you’re saying that so openly? Isn’t that a huge weakness?"
"She’s not my weakness—she’s my enemies’ weakness."
"What does that mean?"
"If anyone touches her, I’ll make sure they die in the most miserable way in the world by my hand. That makes her a weakness that distracts my enemies by forcing them to resist the temptation to provoke me."
The Sword King burst into hearty laughter.
"That was a refreshing piece of nonsense."
He resumed his walk along the path he had been on. As he looked at the shoes dangling from his waist, Geom Mugeuk asked,
"Why haven’t you killed me?"
It was clear that the Sword King had appeared as an instructor in order to kill him.
"Why are you delaying?"
The Sword King paused for a moment and looked up at the sky. As if he were trying to find the answer up there.
Geom Mugeuk also looked up at the sky.
And so the two of them stared up at the sky for a while.
"What did you ask again?"
"What did I ask? Ah—why you haven’t killed me yet?"
"It’s been a while since I got some fresh air."
The Sword King began walking again, casually adding,
"There are too many boring bastards in this martial world and far too few interesting ones."