Chronicles of the Lazy Sovereign Novel - Chapter 497

# 497

The **Heavenly Flowing Sword**’s expression had turned rigid.

It was strange to see him like this, when he had always roamed the world with nonchalance.

—*”What the hell is this kid?”*

It wasn’t the first time he had seen **Wei Yanho**.

In the past, he had already had a conversation with him. Back then, his assessment had been that of a young master with terrifying potential.

He was exceptional, so much so that even his nephews, in whom he had placed his faith to dominate the next era, seemed mediocre in comparison.

He recognized him without any problems.

**Wei Yanho** was a martial genius like no other he had ever seen in his life.

But that was it, wasn’t it?

Everyone knew that a tiger was dangerous, but no one feared a motherless cub. Even if it had fangs sharper than those of a cat, even if they knew that its claws could tear human skin with ease, a tiger cub was still just a cub.

A cub needed time to become a true tiger.

But **Wei Yanho** hadn’t had that time. That was why he didn’t consider him a threat. He thought he could eliminate him whenever he wanted.

He believed it was better to use him as motivation for his nephews than to kill him immediately. Anyone in the world would have thought the same.

However, now he had no choice but to admit that this idea had been a mistake.

**A sword**.

In front of him was a sword.

**Wei Yanho**, with the weapon that **Wei Jeonghan** had handed him hanging loosely at his side, was the very personification of a sharp blade.

—*”It’s chilling.”*

He couldn’t understand how that boy had reached such a level.

**Heavenly Flowing Sword** rarely used the word “amazing”. He considered it a sign of a lack of understanding on the part of the person who pronounced it.

But now there was no other way to describe what he felt.

It was **amazing**.

How could he accept that a cub abandoned in the mountain had returned, not as a tiger, but as a monster in just a few months?

—*”I must kill him.”*

The speed of his growth surpassed all common sense.

If this continued, he couldn’t even imagine how strong he would become with a little more time.

—*”That can’t happen.”*

It was a mistake that **he** had made, so **he** had to correct it. The Clan Leader was right. This was a matter that he had to resolve personally.

The **Heavenly Flowing Sword**’s gaze darkened.

He admitted it.

Just by seeing his aura, he understood.

The hand holding the sword, the blade that didn’t tremble, the serene and focused eyes.

A **swordsman**.

Yes, a swordsman straight out of a painting.

If he closed his eyes and imagined a sword master, it would be **like that**. And he knew how terrifying that was.

Imagination always seeks perfection.

The posture that one visualizes in their mind ignores reality. It is usually idealized, flawless. Since no one really knows what perfection is, only a slightly blurred image is drawn.

But upon seeing **Wei Yanho**, that image materialized before him.

The form of a swordsman that only existed in his mind.

—*”Dangerous.”*

His instinct warned him.

The one in front of him was not the brat he remembered. If he let his guard down, an accomplished master would cut his throat without hesitation.

—*”Not even when I faced the Sword Sage did I feel this pressure…”*

Killing the **Sword Sage** would have been trivial if he had wished it. He just thought it wasn’t worth getting his hands dirty.

But **Wei Yanho** was different.

This was a **rival**.

**Heavenly Flowing Sword** kept his sword low.

Even so, he was no match for him.

There was no way he could lose. His sword was that of the **Baekgeom Fortress**, and the years he had dedicated to polishing his technique were incomparable to those of **Wei Yanho**.

In the end, what mattered was not which martial art was mastered, but **who** mastered it. He himself had been a prodigy in his youth, a genius in his maturity, and now he was a swordsman at the peak of his power.

Although he could not compare to the sword of the Clan Lord, which grazed the heavens, he did not believe that there was anyone in the world who could rival him. Unless it was the **Demon Cult**, perhaps.

—*”I heard you survived the Insane Demon.”*

**Wei Yanho**’s ear twitched.

Although he had ignored every word of the **Heavenly Flowing Sword**, the name of the **Insane Demon** made him shudder.

—*”But you better be careful. I’m not as soft as he is.”*

—*”The Insane Demon…”*

A smile appeared on **Wei Yanho**’s lips.

—*”Then show me that hardness you speak of!”*

In that instant, **Wei Yanho** lunged forward.

### **A mistake?**

He tried to provoke him. Although he was young and powerful, he surely hadn’t learned to control his temper. But **Wei Yanho**’s eyes showed no hesitation.

**Heavenly Flowing Sword** adjusted his stance.

He had to stop underestimating him because of his age. Although he had already admitted that he was an accomplished swordsman, why did he still see him as a child?

There was no reason to think that a young man’s sword couldn’t pierce his flesh. He reaffirmed himself and tightened his grip on his sword.

**Wei Yanho**’s weapon cut through the air towards the **Heavenly Flowing Sword**’s head.

A blow **too direct**.

But simplicity wasn’t always bad.

Without flourishes, it was **fast**.
Without deception, it was **strong**.

It was the **very foundation** of swordsmanship.

The people of the world despised the basics.

They believed that a straight, predictable sword needed tricks to improve. But that was a foolish thought.

Hadn’t the fundamental existed since the beginning?

The fundamental was, in the end, what had survived after being tested as the best among countless variables. How could they ignore it?

CLANG!

**Wei Yanho**’s sword collided with the **Heavenly Flowing Sword**’s, emitting a sharp metallic sound.

The impact on his fingers was **forceful**.

A precise blow. A straight blow.

The perfect posture generated a monstrous force that made the **Heavenly Flowing Sword** frown.

—*”How many cuts has he practiced to achieve this technique?”*

He could even feel his **obsession**.

He was a swordsman carved to perfection, like a careful sculpture by a master craftsman.

—*”Who the hell could have trained him like this?”*

For a moment, he felt respect for both **Wei Yanho**’s master and **Wei Yanho** himself, who had followed his teachings.

—*”Impressive.”*

He couldn’t deny it.

High-level swordsmen could measure their opponent’s skill with a single exchange. This was one of those cases. The **Heavenly Flowing Sword** could imagine the brutal training that **Wei Yanho** had endured.

It must have been an exhausting process, like carving a forest into stone. The master must have given his soul, and the disciple must have suffered hell.

Here was someone who had achieved what he hadn’t even dared to attempt.

It was natural that he was **strong**.

—*”My nephews couldn’t face him.”*

He felt ashamed for having compared **Wei Yanho** to them, even for an instant. And his admiration mixed with a growing sense of crisis.

—*”If I don’t kill him here, this guy could shake the foundations of our grand plan.”*

That **couldn’t** be allowed.

They had waited **too long** for this moment.

They had endured the resentment, chewing it over and over, waiting for the day when they would return their pain to this damned martial world. They hadn’t even really started, and there were already signs of failure?

It was **unacceptable**.

—*”Taja!”*

He channeled all his internal power to push **Wei Yanho** away, then attempting to strike him with his shoulder. **Foundation** mixed with **improvisation**. It was no time to worry about dignity.

But things didn’t go as planned.

In the instant he tried to deflect the sword, he realized: he felt no resistance in **Wei Yanho**’s weapon. Like an illusion, it receded **slightly**, too light.

—*”Adhesion?”*

**Wei Yanho**’s sword stuck to his like a leech. If he pushed, it yielded; if he pulled, it followed. But it **never** separated.

—*”Damn it!”*

Frustrated, he shouted without thinking and injected internal energy into his sword.

At that moment…

Ugh!

An unbearable pain surged in his foot. **Wei Yanho** had stepped on his instep while pressing his sword down.

—*”Ghk!”*

More than pain, it was **surprise**.

**Wei Yanho**, whose posture had impressed him, was now acting like a street thug, barging in and stomping on him.

Yes, just like that **Cheok Soogwang**.

The abrupt change in the rhythm of the combat disconcerted him.

—*”I’m losing ground.”*

Once he lost the initiative at this distance, he couldn’t recover it. The best thing to do was to retreat and reorganize. He unleashed a burst of energy forward, using the recoil to move away.

But **Wei Yanho** wouldn’t stand still.

Faster than the **Heavenly Flowing Sword** could retreat, **Wei Yanho** slid like an eel and followed him.

Then, aiming at his head and shoulders, he unleashed **three cuts** in an instant.

A **terrifying** speed.

A **monstrous** swordsmanship.

**Heavenly Flowing Sword** brandished his weapon with no time to shout, blocking all three attacks with precision. But just when he thought he had stopped them, **Wei Yanho**’s sword **disappeared** like smoke.

—*”Illusionary sword?”*

Wasn’t it fast swordsmanship?

Then…

Shick!

The sound of flesh being cut.

Although he managed to dodge, he couldn’t avoid a deep gash in his right thigh. And once his balance was broken, disaster was unleashed.

Shick!

Shick!

A long cut on the shoulder. A superficial graze on the chest. **Wei Yanho** stuck to him like a leech, continuing to attack. As if he didn’t want to lose the momentum he had gained.

It was amazing how that innocent face hid so much **ferocity**.

—*”Taaah!”*

**Heavenly Flowing Sword** unleashed a flurry of **108 cuts** in an instant. He expended too much energy, but at that moment, opening a gap was more important than conserving strength.

If he continued like this, he would be riddled and defeated.

With a sound like tearing fabric, the space in front of him filled with the afterimages of his sword.

It was a **wall of steel**.

No, a **wall of swords**.

If he couldn’t counter every attack, then he would block **all** of them. Whether it was fast, illusionary, or changing swordsmanship, nothing could penetrate an impenetrable barrier.

He had done it.

Certain that the attacks would cease, the **Heavenly Flowing Sword** raised his head slightly.

And then, he **saw**.

**Light**.

No, **radiance**.

A small sun, forged in a light so vast that it seemed to be able to devour the world, pounced on him.

A white sun, burning as if it wanted to swallow all the darkness of the universe, enveloped his body as he fell.

KWAaaaAAAAAANG!

The world **trembled**.