Martial Arts Returnee's Game Broadcast-Chapter 286: Silent Swordsman Hunt

 Nickname: Eom Gil-dong’s Right Hand.

He was far too skilled to merely consider himself a fan of Eom Gil-dong.

Why is someone like you under Eom Gil-dong?Seriously.You'd be better than Eom Gil-dong if you started your own broadcast.

He knew it too.

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He knew he was stronger than Eom Gil-dong.

“You don’t know a thing about Eom Gil-dong, do you? He’s an extraordinary guy.”

Even so, the reason he acknowledged Eom Gil-dong and called himself his right hand was because of Eom Gil-dong’s strong spirit and perseverance, never afraid of failure or defeat.

‘I once thought that a talented person could never be defeated by someone average.’

In reality, he had expertise in swordsmanship.

He believed that himself, and he had made swordsmanship his profession.

But that was a foolish misconception, a frog in a well.

There were many wells in the world.

Outside of that well, there were many strong individuals he had never known.

The technique he had painstakingly honed after a long period of fasting and practice was observed with interest by someone, who, in less than ten seconds, had perfectly copied it.

This way seems better to use, doesn’t it?!!!Right?Did you just... copy my sword technique?Yep. It was fun. A pretty interesting technique. Sometimes it’s not bad to join tournaments like this just for fun. Oh, and by the way, that’s a compliment.

The opponent he faced in the final of the tournament, named Wi Ji-cheon, easily shattered him, making him feel despair.

Crushed by the harsh reality, he laid down his sword and escaped into the virtual world.

“Whoa, this guy’s strong!”

“Wow. I couldn’t even see his hands move.”

“Definitely wasn’t a skill animation...!”

“To think he’s this strong just with pure swordsmanship, without any assist actions?!”

In the medieval battlefield of the war game Middle Wars,

trying to soothe his wounded pride by cutting down enemies in the game, one day, he faced a pitiful swordsman.

Whoosh, screech!

Before they could even clash, the swordsman’s neck was cut and he collapsed.

The player didn’t give up, as the game allowed respawning after a cooldown without forced logout.

Soon, the swordsman put his helmet back on and charged at him again.

Swish, screech!

Shoosh, screech!

Thud, screech!

He stepped, slashed to the neck, threatened with fierce jabs, then slashed again, using rhythm to unbalance the opponent and land another blow to the neck.

This overwhelming difference in skill allowed him to easily defeat such a low-level opponent.

At first, he thought the swordsman was just a common fool.

‘They’ll keep attacking out of anger, but after a few times, they’ll get scared and won’t dare approach.’

When the swordsman had attacked more than ten times,

he found it laughable how far the pointless challenge could go.

When the attacks reached a hundred,

he began to acknowledge the man’s perseverance.

After the main game ended, the swordsman continued to challenge him.

He created a private room and accepted a one-on-one duel.

After more than a thousand attempts,

when they reached over ten thousand,

the man was now able to deflect his sword.

The sword clashes increased little by little, and his skills started to improve terrifyingly fast.

He had to admit that even though the swordsman was still clumsy, he was now beginning to leave marks on him.

This made him angry.

He had a huge gap in skill compared to Wi Ji-cheon, whom he faced in the tournament.

But this man was stubborn, not giving up even though the difference in their abilities was vast.

His tenacity and fighting spirit felt like he was saying, “I’m different from you.”

This made him feel ashamed, and so, he accepted the challenges and kept breaking him down.

He wanted to break him, to show him that it was time to recognize the difference in their talent.

The man didn’t give up.

One month later,

the man finally overcame the overwhelming difference in skill and killed him.

It was then that he asked the man’s name.

The man shyly answered.

“Eom Gil-dong. The copy ninja of Joseon who copies all the techniques in the world... or so he says.”

He was impressed by Eom Gil-dong’s perseverance.

He acknowledged his determination.

That’s why, compared to himself, he willingly took on the title of Eom Gil-dong’s Right Hand.

“Eom Gil-dong! In the last two weeks, your Middle Wars playtime hasn’t even been an hour! Why aren’t you continuing with your swordsmanship content?”

“Sorry, Right Hand. These days, rhythm games are all the rage. I’ve been working on perfecting 8-key 16-level Nightmare difficulty. Swordsmanship content is on hold for now.”

“!!”

Even with such incredible perseverance, Eom Gil-dong didn’t focus on swordsmanship.

Though he claimed it was due to trends and content, Eom Gil-dong’s Right Hand realized that it was just an excuse.

Eom Gil-dong had run away.

He had settled.

He thought his swordsmanship was good enough at this point.

Satisfied with just copying one technique, he refused to challenge higher levels.

Because of that, he stopped watching Eom Gil-dong’s streams.

Instead, he began watching Lee Hae-chan’s broadcasts, never missing swordsmanship content, and through Lee Hae-chan, he was introduced to the Silent Swordsman’s broadcasts.

And now,

he stood before the Silent Swordsman, holding a beam sword, mounted in a supply-grade armored unit.

Whoosh!

Beyond the heavy rain, it was difficult to even identify the mech 30 meters away.

The Silent Swordsman’s head slightly tilted upward.

It was a gesture indicating she had read his nickname above his head.

[External communication channel is open.]

[Connecting communication.]

She had a beautiful face like the goddess of beauty, but her true charm was in her expression—one filled with unwavering determination.

Her lips were firmly sealed, and her eyes were intense with fierce emotion.

As a swordsman,

as a warrior,

she exuded a hot, unyielding fighting spirit that could not be avoided or backed down from, raising the intensity of the battlefield.

‘A sword spirit so obsessed with the sword, like a ghost. In the martial world, such an attack would easily earn the title of Sword Demon.’

Her swordsmanship wasn’t simply about strength or speed.

Each strike forced complete focus, making every moment a challenge, pushing both herself and her opponent to their limits.

Her battle wasn’t about avoiding the attack but about dragging both herself and her opponent into a quagmire of struggle.

Her relentless strikes carried the weight of years of frustration, agony, and a deep, bitter despair.

This despair from being unable to reach a higher level was hidden beneath the layers of brutal swordplay.

‘He gave up on reaching a higher realm. Now, both he and his opponent are trapped in this swamp, avoiding the harsh reality.’

How difficult it was to encapsulate a lifetime of experiences into just one sword, a task too difficult for words or text.

Her serious swordsmanship, capable of accomplishing this, made Eom Gil-dong’s Right Hand recognize her as an equal.

“Are you telling me your swordsmanship is going to rise even higher?!”

“Damn... They’ve sent in a whole squad to support now...”

“Does he have no limits on his breath?”

Between Eom Gil-dong’s Right Hand’s attacks, his team of slave gladiators joined in, quickly closing the gaps.

Despite their involvement, the beam sword, tinged with white light, brought death as it continued its path.

[SIGNAL LOST]

[SIGNAL LOST]

[SIGNAL LOST]

No matter how desperately they resisted, no matter how they tried to break through, the white beam sword was inescapable.

“You had this kind of skill all along?!”

The beam sword of Eom Gil-dong’s Right Hand wavered dangerously.

As it flickered, he let out a furious shout.

“Why are you abandoning swordsmanship? Was your viciousness really that enjoyable? Did all us swordmasters have to be the sacrifices for the entertainment of the popular kids?!”

In a sudden flash of movement, Eom Gil-dong’s Right Hand changed gears and expertly dodged, striking with his sword.

Ha Eung Eung blocked his devastating strike with no damage whatsoever.

Her white light destroyed the desire behind his sword, shattering his desperate longing for a higher level hidden beneath the filthy swordsmanship.

“Why... didn’t you finish it?”

“Is it because I wasn’t worth finishing off?”

The falling mechs from the sky had no damage on the cockpit or main power parts, even as they fell.

[If you thought it wasn’t real, then you still haven’t realized.]

“Are you saying my eyes are wrong?”

[Watch closely from below. See the power I cultivated outside of the Half-Demon Valley.]

Her words hinted that by distancing herself from the sword, she had unlocked the path to even greater sword mastery.

Perhaps, Eom Gil-dong’s Right Hand had been too hasty in judging the Silent Swordsman, and his disappointment may have been misplaced.

Just as he was about to speak, the communication channel was cut, and an alert appeared.

[Communication distance exceeded.]

[External communication cut off.]

Eom Gil-dong’s Right Hand stared at the flashing lights and loud noises of the battlefield from the fallen mechs around him.

His anger had turned into confusion and anxiety as he searched the sky for the Silent Swordsman’s trace.

He realized the person who had truly used them was someone else.

“Damn it. We were played.”