Chronicles of the Lazy Sovereign Novel - Chapter 461

**C461: The lazy Fight (1)**

“Did you say **”War Sword”**?”
“Yes, War Sword.”

**Gwanggu Singae** smirked as he replied.

“Do you know what the War Sword is?”
“I have a general idea, but I don’t know the details.”
“That’s understandable. It’s a rather unknown concept. Not because the theory is strange, but because it’s rare to see someone who actually practices the War Sword.”

Gwanggu Singae reached out and took a bottle of wine. After taking a sip, he continued with a mocking laugh:

“The War Sword, in simple terms, is a style of swordsmanship **without form**.”
“What exactly does ‘without form’ mean…?”
“Swordsmanship is like this. Let me explain it to you easily.”

His voice became slightly somber.

“Essentially, it’s a system designed to **kill in the simplest and most efficient way possible**.”
“……”
“Depending on how you interpret that ‘efficiency,’ the style of the sword changes.”
“Excuse me, but since I am not a martial artist, but a Historian, I don’t quite understand.”
“Well, let me give you an example. Imagine we are at this distance. And that I have a sword in my hand. What if I adopt a middle stance? Let’s say I point my sword at your throat.”
“Yes.”
“Then, what would be the most efficient way to kill you from here?”
“…Stabbing the sword and cutting my throat, I suppose.”
“If that’s what you think, then yes. But now I ask you: what if the opponent resists? How should you stab the sword to make sure you hit, considering their resistance? As fast as possible? Or with enough force to deflect their sword? Or maybe twisting the blade to anticipate their counterattack?”
“Ah…”

Gwanggu Singae shook his head thoughtfully.

“Depending on how the founder of a martial style interprets that situation, even something as simple as stabbing a sword can have multiple variations. In short, martial arts are a set of rules that dictate: *”In this situation, this is the most efficient way to attack”*. Those rules are the **forms**, and practitioners strive to replicate them perfectly. That is the training.”
“I understand what you mean.”
“But the War Sword **has no forms**. Because there are no established rules.”

The Historian tilted his head, confused.

“What does it mean that there are no rules?”
“Those who learn forms and go to the battlefield follow certain patterns. If the enemy is at a certain distance, they defend. If they are closer, they prioritize thrusts over cuts. If they are very close, they strike with the hilt instead of the blade.”
“Mmm…”
“But the War Sword doesn’t have that. Because its only rule is one: **survive**. Or, if you want to add another, **kill the opponent**.”

The Historian nodded.

Although it sounded macabre, it made sense. The battlefield was like that.

“Having no form means freedom, but it also implies that, in a moment of life or death, you have to **think one step further**. Otherwise, you will only brandish the sword aimlessly. Do you know what that means?”
“You die.”
“Exactly. Learning the War Sword is, in other words, being an **ignorant of swordsmanship**. But, you know? From time to time someone like that appears. Someone who hasn’t learned anything, who hasn’t mastered anything, but who **survives**. Someone who returns to the battlefield again and again. Do you know what happens then?”
“Does their sword become more free?”
“No. **They develop their own form**. They internalize it. With their own body. They learn, in each situation, what is the most efficient way to wield the sword. While others learn it from manuals, they learn it with their flesh. And in the end, something is born: **their own sword style**. One that is unlike any other in the world. Do you know what that means?”
“…They become a **Grand Master**.”
“Correct.”

Gwanggu Singae took another drink and gave a subtle smile.

“Since you are not a martial artist, you don’t know how incredible that is. The martial world has existed for thousands of years, but only a handful have created their own style. And of that handful, only a few have refined it to the point of being able to transmit it.”
“But even that handful must be impressive, right?”
“Yes. But what makes them great is not only having created a style, but having **fully understood and mastered it**.”

The Historian looked at him without understanding. This was a difficult topic to grasp for someone outside of martial arts.

“Tell me, have you ever in your life seen someone who claims to have **completely** mastered a martial style?”
“…No.”
“Exactly. Common martial artists spend their entire lives training a single style. A whole life without fully understanding what a single manual contains. But the **creator** of a style understands it better than anyone else in the world. So…”
“They must be strong.”
“Of course.”

Gwanggu Singae chuckled.

“Strong. Extremely strong. Depending on the level of the style they have created, it may vary… but they are strong. **He** was too. **Cheok Soogwang, the War King**, was like that.”

He stared out of the cabin and nodded to himself.

“Yes. He was strong.”

***

The War Sword is like that.

You can’t predict their next move. The world is governed by rules. You may believe you are free, but most of your actions are influenced by what you have seen and experienced in society.

Isn’t that so?

If you had grown up alone in the wilderness, without human contact, would you be as you are now?

No, right?

Exactly.

Your “freedom” is based on the foundation of human society. The same goes for swordsmanship. As much as you look for something different, you cannot escape the influence of what you have already learned and seen. And not only swordsmanship, all martial arts are like that.

But the War Sword largely escapes that foundation. **Too much**.

That’s why it’s so strange.

How strange?

In the world, many could claim to be stronger than Cheok Soogwang. Some really surpassed him in strength, and others belittled him, saying: *”How strong can a street swordsman be?”*.

But **none** of them wanted to face him directly.

Why?

Because **they weren’t sure**.

Heh, heh, heh… the War Sword is like that. When a master fights a novice, the first thing they do is **eliminate the variables**. No matter how skilled a master is, a sword is still a sword.

It is not uncommon for famous swordsmen to be humiliated by the messy blows of vagrants.

And if we talk about the **War King**, imagine. He could lose against someone weaker, but he could also defeat someone stronger.

Yes.

That’s why no one wanted to mess with him.

Huh?

**That guy**?

No, he never liked to fight.

But… this time it seems different.

Although, in reality, it is not his problem, but his master’s.

***

What is the most important thing to be the leader of a great clan?

**Tang Cheongun** did not know the answer.

The more time he spent as patriarch, the more exhausting the position became. Managing the affairs of a great clan was not easy for anyone, and even less so for a clan as massive as the **Tang Family** of Sichuan.

However…

Although he didn’t know the most important thing, he did know what the most difficult part was. Especially for him:

**Hiding his true feelings.**

Maintaining control of his expression.

Smiling in front of someone unpleasant just because it suited his interests.

Some did it with ease, but for someone of a direct character like Tang Cheongun, it was the most difficult thing in the world. Especially when the person in front of him irritated him for multiple reasons.

*Cheok Soogwang…*

Tang Cheongun found it uncomfortable to look at him. Because it made him think of many things.

The position of **Leader of the Righteous Heavenly Alliance**, which Cheok Soogwang now held, **should have been his**.

The Alliance was a federation of Sichuan, wasn’t it?

Who, if not the patriarch of the **Tang Family** and **Dark King**, could represent Sichuan in that position?

But now the leader was not him, but Cheok Soogwang.

Tang Cheongun took a deep breath.

*At least if he were weaker in martial arts…*

What infuriated him about Cheok Soogwang was his **strength**. As **Dark King**, he didn’t believe he would lose against him, but he wasn’t sure he could win either.

The only advantage he had over Cheok Soogwang was his position as patriarch of the clan.

How pathetic was it to depend on family prestige against someone he couldn’t beat with his own strength?

If their roles were reversed, he would be standing right now with his head down in front of Cheok Soogwang. Knowing it so clearly tormented him.

And also…

“It’s been a long time since we’ve met.”

Tang Cheongun bowed deeply. Cheok Soogwang responded with a simple nod.

“Yes, it’s been a long time.”

“……”

*That attitude…*

That attitude irritated him even more. Although Cheok Soogwang was the leader of the Alliance, Tang Cheongun was still the patriarch of the Tang Family. He deserved at least a minimum of respect. But Cheok Soogwang treated him like a subordinate, and with a mocking smile.

*Damn you.*

Meeting the last person he wanted to see in the courtyard of his own mansion left him with an indescribable feeling of bitterness.

“I heard there were problems in the Tang Family.”
“That’s right.”
“Hmm, I didn’t expect something like that to happen here.”

To Tang Cheongun, even those words sounded like mockery. As if he were saying: *”If you had done your job well, this wouldn’t have happened”*.

“That’s why we have invited the Master, haven’t we?”

It was his way of saying: *”If you are so good, solve it yourself”*.

“Can I really help? Meddling too much in the affairs of the clan would not be appropriate.”

It was his way of saying: *”Deal with it yourself”*.

*Then what did you come for?*

What he wanted to do most was scream and kick him out. But Tang Cheongun knew better than anyone that he couldn’t do it. That’s why he hated meeting Cheok Soogwang.

“By the way…” Cheok Soogwang spoke suddenly. “I heard you brought in an interesting boy.”
“Are you referring to **Wei Yanho**?”
“Yes, that name.”

Tang Cheongun’s eyes flashed.

*Interest in that boy…?*

Perhaps this was an opportunity. An opportunity to **undermine Cheok Soogwang’s unshakeable position** in one fell swoop. For that he needed…

“So, where is that boy now?”

Tang Cheongun clenched his fists.

The big fish had jumped into the water on its own, without the need for bait.

“Allow me to guide you.”

With a triumphant smile, Tang Cheongun took the net and prepared to catch him.