“How the hell do you even do that?”

That line was the problem.

Because at Poison King’s request, I had to teach Tang Cheon-il how to use Myriad-Flowers Rain.

And the most fundamental issue was in the way.

“...Huh.”

Tang Cheon-il couldn’t learn Myriad-Flowers Rain to a bizarre degree.

No—since it was a forgotten secret art of that clan, and something they called an ultimate mastery, there was no way the difficulty was going to be easy.

But even taking that into account...

No matter how many times we repeated the lesson, it was bizarrely bad.

“Why?”

Was the problem with the lesson?

Yeah, sure—my explanation being too broad was part of it.

You just force inner power into every single dagger and throw them.

If you say it like that, of course they won’t understand.

“...But I did explain it properly.”

It wasn’t like I started with that kind of insane explanation.

At first, I added real details.

-You take the inner power that starts in your dantian and hold it at your fingertips.

-In that process, the speed at which the inner power moves through the meridians doesn’t need to be that fast.

-If anything, if it’s fast, it’s hard to control—so maintaining a steady, moderate speed is the key.

-Before you release the daggers, you have to load all the daggers, so throughout the process you can’t waste strength anywhere in your body, and you need to inhale as much as possible to keep tension in your abdomen.

And so on, and so on.

I tried hard to teach Tang Cheon-il based on what I’d felt and learned.

But...

“...It didn’t work.”

In the end, he couldn’t pull off Myriad-Flowers Rain.

You might think, why not just reduce the number of daggers—

But then it wouldn’t be Myriad-Flowers Rain.

A martial art where daggers fall like rain and sweep the battlefield.

That’s Myriad-Flowers Rain. Calling it “rain” with just a few was pathetic.

“At minimum, seven.”

That was a number Yoo Cheongil set.

The foundation of Myriad-Flowers Rain was handling seven daggers.

That was the baseline, so I told Tang Cheon-il to hold seven too.

PA-BA-BA-BAK—!!

Daggers released again.

And again, it was no different °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° from before.

Failure.

Tang Cheon-il failed again, and watching him, I scratched at my cheek and said,

“Is it really that hard...?”

At the whisper I didn’t even mean to let out, Tang Cheon-il’s expression crumpled.

The most frustrated one here was probably him.

A lot of time had passed since we started, and it didn’t even feel like he was getting close to learning it.

And on top of that, he was learning his own clan’s ultimate mastery from some bastard who didn’t know the Tang Clan at all.

Yeah. That would piss him off.

“So what.”

That part wasn’t my problem.

It wasn’t my fault he couldn’t do it.

“I can do it.”

Even I—someone you could say has no talent for martial arts—can use Myriad-Flowers Rain.

Of course, that seemed like Poison Sovereign’s arrangement, so I didn’t really have anything to say about it.

“Which is why I’m trying to teach you this.”

Since it isn’t mine, I’m trying as hard as I can to teach it so it can go back to its rightful owner—

But—

“There’s just no progress.”

With no change in Tang Cheon-il, all I could do was get more annoyed too.

“...We’ll stop here for today.”

I said it while collecting the daggers we’d scattered.

It was too late, and doing more wouldn’t mean anything.

Tomorrow we had tournament matches right away.

The tournament had been spread over two days, but the numbers were cut in half—so tomorrow, it would all end in a single day.

The round of 32.

It had been cut down and cut down until there weren’t many left.

And since both Tang Cheon-il and I had matches, it was better to avoid any intense movement.

“Let’s go in.”

“...Yes.”

Tang Cheon-il cleaned up around us with an uncomfortable expression.

Looks like he was suffocating too.

I watched him quietly while I finished putting the daggers away.

Then I headed back to the lodging to get some sleep.

*****

-It’s not bad. Your talent.

That was the day I was praised. Back then, I liked that line so much I swung my sword like I’d gone insane.

-You’re better than your older brother.

And because I swung my sword like I’d gone insane, I even overtook my twin brother.

At that, I grinned so wide it hurt.

I’m better than that bastard.

Yeah. I should be Clan Head.

That’s how Namgung Seong spent his childhood.

Namgung Seong thought he was a genius.

And he really was. He was a genius.

He never fell behind anyone else.

Even in the Namgung Clan, they called his talent something you could count on one hand.

They even said he had talent comparable to Thunderclap Sword—the previous Clan Head, and someone they called Heaven-Beyond-Heaven.

At this rate, I’ll lead the Namgung Clan.

That’s what he thought.

But then—

-...A once-in-an-era prodigy.

-A miracle has happened in the Namgung Clan.

The crack formed one day.

His twin brother, who had always lagged far behind him.

That guy—who had nothing going for him except the same face—

Suddenly started to show a presence.

It really happened one day. A perfectly ordinary spring day where nothing was different.

The moment his older brother, Thunder Dragon Namgung Cheon, awakened a new realm and mastered Thunder Steel—

The day he combined it with the Changryong Sword and displayed a terrifying bolt of lightning.

From that day on, Namgung Seong’s life twisted.

Namgung Cheon, who used to be behind him and compared to him, was suddenly ahead of him.

And the days of being compared, every single day, began.

There is no hell like it.

If he slipped even a little, Clan Head’s gaze changed.

And the elders’ expectations shifted toward Namgung Cheon.

That’s why it happened.

The irritation and impatience that poured out of him, to the point of desperation—

Eventually manifested as a hidden appetite of his.

At first, it was taking it out on someone.

In the end, it became hunger.

He started getting a thrill from women who couldn’t do anything under his hands.

He told himself that was the only outlet he had—his only way to breathe.

That’s what he thought.

But—

“Even that broke.”

One day, while he was watching for an opening to shove Namgung Cheon out of the way...

He met that bastard.

“Little Sword Saint.”

Back then, he wasn’t called the Little Sword Saint.

He was only known as some low-level nobody from the Martial Alliance Anhui branch.

But the information that came flying in was the problem—information saying he’d become the successor of the Sword Saint.

The day he arrived in Anhui because Mountain-Spirit Fiend had fled with the Changryong Orb—

That was when he met him.

Since he looked like a guy who didn’t know how the world worked, Namgung Seong thought he could use him and profit.

But he was nothing like Namgung Seong expected.

“He doesn’t know how the world works?”

Not a chance.

That bastard was already worn down and used up by something.

He didn’t fall for Namgung Seong’s tricks—he even tried to use Namgung Seong instead.

And worse—

“How did he even know?”

He knew Namgung Seong’s secret too.

How?

How the hell did he know?

Even though the cleanup was perfect.

That bastard knew, in detail, what Namgung Seong had done.

“I should’ve killed him.”

He should’ve erased him.

But he couldn’t.

“...That dog bastard.”

They fought.

And he even lost.

The moment that happened, everything broke.

He collapsed, useless, in front of all those people.

And the Changryong Orb he’d been trying to reclaim ended up in Clan Head’s hands because of that bastard’s dogshit behavior.

From then on, his position rotted.

His father—Clan Head—started turning away from him.

Even the elders who had supported him swung over to his brother’s side.

His footing crumbled.

The hope he’d barely been gripping got smashed to pieces.

And his mind broke.

He hated the world. Resented it. Cursed it, over and over.

“Somehow... somehow.”

He had to survive this fucked-up situation.

To do that, the cause of what he’d become—

“I need to get rid of the Little Sword Saint.”

Starting with that bastard, he wanted to take everything back.

Day and night, like he was possessed, he swung his sword.

All to beat him.

He would go to the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering, fight him, win—and reclaim the position he’d lost.

That was Little Azure Sword’s goal.

Whether it was possible, and how he could even reach it—

He couldn’t think through any of that.

It really felt like he was possessed by something.

“Heeheehee... heeheeheeheehee.”

Laughter.

Flinch.

Namgung Seong’s body trembled. It was something that had started happening recently.

He curled up in a panic and buried his face in his knees.

“Heeheehee... heeheeheeheehee.”

“Die. Die already. Just die.”

“I’m going to kill you. I’m going to kill you.”

“Get out...! I said get out...!”

The nauseating voices stabbed into his whole body.

Gritting his teeth, Namgung Seong shouted. Even then, the voices kept coming.

“You like having flesh?”

“My neck still hurts. It still hurts.”

A damn dream.

This was all that bastard’s fault too. It started after his match with him.

“You like it? I... I.”

Women’s voices kept circling him.

“I’M ASKING YOU—!!!!!”

“...Hngh!”

FLASH—!

Namgung Seong jolted awake and threw himself upright.

“KHUH... huuuh...”

He clutched his chest and shook. A nightmare.

“Hh... hhhnngh...”

With a pale, bluish face, Namgung Seong looked around.

A silent, distant room. Only thin moonlight spilled in.

Feeling that, Namgung Seong pressed his body tight against the wall.

“Hngh... huuuh...”

His body was soaked in sweat. Forcing his shaking eyes to steady, he dragged his own hand over his shoulder.

“Huu... huuuh...”

Again.

Again he’d had a nightmare. How many times was this now?

Ever since he’d fallen out of Clan Head’s favor, Namgung Seong had nightmares every day.

“...Damn it... damn it...”

He spat curses and tried to remember. How did he end up passed out here?

It didn’t take long for him to recall.

“Ah.”

His eyes widened, and his face twisted immediately.

“Bang Sungyeon...!”

KWAANG—!!

He slammed the bed.

It was that bastard. He blocked what Namgung Seong was trying to do and humiliated him again.

And then—

“Namgung Cheon...”

Thunder Dragon Namgung Cheon at the end. That bastard even stepped in and knocked him out.

“You bastards... I’ll chew you to pieces...!”

Heat surged up to the top of his head.

The bastards who ruined his life mocked him again.

That rage flooded Namgung Seong’s entire body.

“What do I do?”

How could he kill them?

He wanted to kill them, somehow—wipe them out so they wouldn’t exist in front of his eyes.

He wanted to grind them down and erase them—

But—

“Damn it... damn it...”

Nothing came to mind, so all he could do was spew anger.

“Looks like you’re really angry.”

“......!”

A voice, right in front of him.

The instant Namgung Seong heard it, he reached beside the bed.

He was trying to draw the sword resting there.

SHIIIING—!!

The sword came free immediately and flew toward the direction the sound came from—

TAP—!

“...Huh?”

The sword didn’t reach.

Because the figure in front of him caught the blade between two fingers and stopped it.

A master.

A cold shiver ran down Namgung Seong’s spine.

“Who are you...?”

Darkness the moonlight didn’t touch.

A figure stood there, looking down at Namgung Seong.

Their eyes met.

And when Namgung Seong saw those eyes, his heart dropped.

Red.

Eyes so red they looked unreal, staring down at him.

“Nice to meet you.”

Their eyes curved into crescent moons.

“Looks like you want something.”

A low voice, laced with amusement.

At those words, Namgung Seong’s body started trembling, slowly.

Because the killing intent was so vicious.

And in that situation—

“How about it.”

The figure said.

“Want me to help?”

Somehow, those words sounded unbelievably sweet to Namgung Seong.

*****

Dawn was just starting to break.

The day the round of 36 began.

Matches that had to be fought early in the morning.

To prepare for them, I walked lightly toward Main Alliance Headquarters—

“Good morning?”

“...Yeah.”

And from the start of the morning, my face twisted as I met the Sword Empress.