The Martial Genius Who Remembers Everything Novel - Chapter 11

Chapter 11
Chapter 11. A Third-Rate Warrior Who Protects His Sect’s Honor (5)

“Didn’t I warn you about this!”

As soon as I arrived back at our quarters and recounted the events following my departure from the feast, a sudden storm erupted. Kang Chae-seok let out an angry growl, completely failing to conceal his boiling irritation, while Jin Tae-san’s expression turned graver and stiffer than I had ever witnessed.

“They dragged our sect’s name through the mud. Was I supposed to just sit there and take it?”

“Y-you… you absolute fool!”

Intervening for Kang Chae-seok, whose countenance had turned crimson with fury, Jin Tae-san voiced his frustration.

“You handed them the perfect excuse on a silver platter. Did you not foresee the consequences of giving them that leverage?”

“That excuse was entirely fabricated and shoved onto me. Even if I had swallowed my pride, they would have cornered me regardless.”

“At least then, they wouldn’t have a justified excuse to beat you under the guise of an official challenge.”

“Getting hurt in a losing battle doesn’t scare me. What truly terrifies me is the thought of fleeing like a coward because I’m scared to lose.”

“…”

Silence fell as Jin Tae-san stood up and wordlessly started unfastening the knots of his top robe.

“Tae-san, what are you doing!”

Despite Sa-ryeon being present in the room, Father paid no heed to decorum, driven by whatever thoughts possessed him.

“…!”

“What on earth is this!”

Across Jin Tae-san’s back, exposed once his robes slid down, ran a deep, gruesome mark. Curiously, the mark extended across a width matching four fingers, tapering into a sharp, pointed tip at its conclusion.

“Take a good look. What do you think caused this injury?”

Though Father and I shared the same roof for years, he had never once bared his torso before me. Reflecting on it now, it was baffling that I possessed absolutely no recollection of this scarring from my childhood.

“What kind of weapon… could do that?”

“Examine it closely.”

The marking was far too uniform to be the lashing of a whip, yet too defined and pointed at the edge to have come from a blunt club. Its appearance perfectly mirrored the impression left when the flat side of a blade is pressed violently against flesh and then pulled away…

“Could it be… the flat of a sword…?”

“Your eyes do not deceive you. This is the mark stamped onto me by Seong Ju-tak, the Young Sword Lord of the Iron Sword Sect, two decades ago.”

Grinding sound echoed as I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth grated together.

“…What took place back then?”

“Agony is far more terrifying than you can possibly conceive.”

“Please, tell me the truth of what happened.”

“…”

Jin Tae-san chose not to reply, quietly refastening his garments. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode out of the quarters.

“Stay where you are. Sa-ryeon, you must head back to your room immediately as well.”

“If I am kept in the dark, I cannot comprehend the situation. And if I do not comprehend it, I won’t know how to conduct myself going forward.”

“…”

“Anyone would feel the torment inflicted on their family’s flesh far more acutely than their own bones fracturing. If I merely force myself to sleep through this, tomorrow I will face Seong Mo-hyeon with the absolute intent to kill, even if it costs me my life.”

“…When comparing practitioners at identical stages of mastery, the techniques of the Taeul Sect cannot overcome the blade of the Iron Sword Sect.”

The core philosophy underlying the Iron Sword Sect’s style relied on sheer weight. Ghost Sword Immortal Elder, the progenitor of the Iron Sword Sect, wielded a massive weapon four chon in width. As their martial traditions matured over generations, their standard arms eventually settled around pieces featuring blades three chon across.

Conversely, the foundational principle of the Taeul Sect’s style centered on rapid movement. The mechanics of swiftness demanded a lightweight build, meaning it lacked the raw mass required to pierce through the heavy guard of an Iron Sword Sect practitioner. If one’s velocity was overwhelmingly superior, weight could be disregarded, but achieving that required an internal cultivation and martial comprehension far eclipsing the opponent’s.

“Even if that is true, how can treating a defeated opponent in such a manner ever be justified?”

Hong Sa-ryeon interjected, her voice trembling with barely suppressed rage.

“It occurred within a gathering of countless prominent figures from across the murim, identical to the assembly we see today. Sa-ryeon, could you simply accept the blame for a crime you never committed?”

“…”

“That is precisely why I warned you against letting yourselves be swept up in any artificial trap, no matter how unfair. With the Grand Strategist of the Murim Alliance and dignitaries from the Namgung Clan in attendance, can you fathom the sheer malice those corrupt bastards might try to force upon us?”

Ultimately, Father remained absent for the entirety of the night. It was only when the scheduled hour drew near that I finally discovered his whereabouts. He had gone to the grand courtyard at the center of the estate.

“…”

“Jin Tae-san, you absolute simpleton.”

Watching him pressed flat against the icy flagstones in a submissive bow, Kang Chae-seok looked as though fury might cause sparks to fly from his eyes. The guests who had been pampered at the sixty-year celebration were now drifting toward the central training ground in groups, eager to witness what promised to be an entertaining drama.

“What is the meaning of all this?”

“Word is that a younger member of the Taeul Sect brought dishonor upon the Iron Sword Sect.”

“Ha! What a reckless little fool. How does a minor group like the Taeul Sect find the nerve to offend the Iron Sword Sect?”

“It seems his sire is begging for clemency. Rumor has it the Iron Sword Sect Leader graciously promised total forgiveness provided they demonstrate true contrition.”

Hoping to draw an even grander audience, the Iron Sword Sect ordered their attendants to hand out light refreshments and alcohol around the perimeter of the courtyard. Even those who cared more about drinking than the drama began spilling out from the reception chambers.

“…”

The moment I stepped onto the path toward Father, the focus of the crowd rapidly shifted toward me.

“Is that the kid in question?”

“Thanks to his reckless child, the sire is about to be flayed open.”

I walked right up to him, but Father remained completely motionless.

“…Go back down.”

“Please get up. Why are you kneeling here as if you are a condemned man?”

“…What sort of father could calmly watch his own child be broken and scarred?”

“And no son enjoys seeing his father reduced to such a pathetic display.”

“…”

The instant I reached out to help Jin Tae-san to his feet, the whispers among the onlookers intensified. Emerging onto the clearing were the Iron Sword Sect Leader, the Young Sword Lord Seong Ju-tak, Jegal So-myeong, who served as the Grand Strategist of the Murim Alliance, alongside Namgung Tae-won and Namgung San representing the Namgung Clan.

“You must be the brat, Jin So-un of the Taeul Sect.”

The Iron Sword Sect Leader looked down at me, his gaze dripping with disdain.

“I am.”

“You truly are an insolent wretch devoid of manners. Even after witnessing the disaster your reckless mouth has brought upon your house, do you still fail to comprehend your reality?”

“What martial artist shows deference to the man who scarred his father?”

“What did you just say?”

“I am aware that a near-identical event took place twenty years ago.”

“…What nonsense are you babbling?”

“Did you not invite the Taeul Sect to an Iron Sword Sect gathering back then, heap insults upon them, force them to bare steel, and subject them to profound degradation?”

“…!”

Following my statement, the murmurs from the crowd grew into a loud chatter.

“What is he implying?”

“Now that he mentions it, years ago…”

“Hey! Keep your mouth shut! Have you lost your mind given whose ground we are standing on?”

The spectators who had started gossiping quickly sealed their lips under the murderous stares of the Iron Sword Sect disciples.

“I am well aware that you intend to crush our Taeul Sect to secure a position within the One Hundred Eight Peaks. However, I must question whether individuals who resort to such underhanded schemes—tactics that even common thugs would find disgusting—truly possess the character to stand as partners within the Murim Alliance.”

The surrounding commotion swelled to a roar. There were bound to be people in attendance who recollected the incident from two decades ago, and they would undoubtedly sense a striking familiarity between these two nearly identical events.

“Y-you insolent little…!”

The Iron Sword Sect Leader’s whiskers twitched with rage as he cast a panicked glance toward Jegal So-myeong.

“…”

Yet, Jegal So-myeong simply observed the unfolding drama in absolute silence, his countenance remaining perfectly unreadable. Drawing false confidence from this lack of intervention, the Iron Sword Sect Leader’s expression shifted to one of mock righteousness.

“I have no idea what fabrications you are speaking of. Regardless, it is solely due to your actions that your father undergoes this humiliation.”

Father’s back, curved and pressed low against the stone floor, appeared far more resilient and grand than it ever had before.

“I see no dishonor in a parent protecting his offspring. But I find myself utterly disgusted by your foul, treacherous behavior, attempting to manipulate a father’s devotion for your own gain!”

“T-this brat!”

I leveled my finger directly at Seong Mo-hyeon.

“Seong Mo-hyeon over there demanded that I answer for my words. Why is he hiding in the back instead of stepping forward?”

Seong Mo-hyeon shifted his gaze between his sire and grandsire, observing their responses. This entire theater had strayed drastically from their intended script. Furthermore, with the Grand Strategist of the Murim Alliance and representatives of the prestigious Namgung Clan looking on, he appeared trapped in indecision over his next move.

I refused to grant them another moment to regroup.

“Seong Mo-hyeon! Your elders have constructed a theater of this magnitude for your sake. Shouldn’t you be the one to deliver the concluding stroke?”

Unsheathing my blade, I spoke directly to Father.

“The steel is out, which means Father’s prostration no longer serves any purpose. Please, step aside.”

For the very first time, Jin Tae-san raised his gaze to meet mine.

“…Are you certain you can withstand what follows?”

“I have already committed myself to this path.”

“Then ensure you do nothing that will leave you full of regret later, simply to escape a fleeting moment of pain.”

Rather than offering a verbal reply, I directed my gaze toward Sa-ryeon. Sa-ryeon and Kang Chae-seok stepped onto the platform, offering physical support to Jin Tae-san, whose legs could barely carry him, and escorted him down to the spectator area. Simultaneously, Seong Mo-hyeon advanced from the opposite side of the ring.

“It must be quite frustrating that your little theater did not play out as planned.”

Seong Mo-hyeon’s features hardened into a grimace.

“I have no interest in your senseless ramblings.”

“Did you honestly think you could act without understanding the goals of your elders? It appears the rumors were accurate—the Beautiful Wolf Iron Sword truly outshines the Blood Wolf Iron Sword.”

Seong Mo-hyeon’s complexion flushed dark with anger.

“Even if you manage to best me in this duel, you will never obtain your desired outcome.”

I swept my gaze over the onlookers encircling us.

“Furthermore, should you fall to my blade, or if this contest ends in a stalemate, the actions of today will brand the Iron Sword Sect with eternal mockery.”

I had already successfully sowed seeds of suspicion among the audience. Those aligned with the Iron Sword Sect would reject my claims, but those who secretly harbored resentment toward them now held a perfect weapon to damage their reputation.

“…Cease your foolish tongue.”

Seong Mo-hyeon fell into his Opening Stance. Reflecting the signature aggression characteristic of the Iron Sword Sect, his posture lunged heavily forward, conveying the impression that he might launch himself like a coiled spring at any microsecond.

There was no room left for traditional courtesy regarding generation or standing within the martial world. This bout, stripped entirely of formal respect, existed as a duel in name only, and the lethal intent radiating from both of us was potent enough to claim a life at any turn.

“Chaaat!”

Seong Mo-hyeon initiated the strike.

Immense power saturated his dense blade, which measured nearly four finger-joints in width. Every time that weapon sliced through the air, it whipped up a violent, piercing gale. Those who had previously locked blades with the Iron Sword Sect frequently noted that defending against their style felt like trying to halt a massive iron bludgeon using nothing but a fragile twig. It was an offensive style that could not be countered by the light, agile parries native to the Taeul Sect. This very mismatch was the source of Kang Chae-seok and Father’s deepest anxieties.

‘However, that logic only holds ground if our capabilities are evenly matched.’

The Minor Heaven Sword Art—a discipline I had not merely mastered to the Twelfth Star during the catastrophic era of the Great Righteous-Demonic War, but one that now responded flawlessly to my every whim.

As I began to channel the deep reservoirs of inner force bolstered by rare medicinal herbs, a surge of energy saturated my entire system.

SWISH.
SLICE.

A sharp, ringing slice echoed through the air. Seong Mo-hyeon’s face drained of color even as he brought his heavy blade down.

“Hup!”
“D-did you catch that just now?”

The audience watched in rapt attention as a severed fragment of Seong Mo-hyeon’s robe drifted silently to the flagstones.

“How is this even…”

Though the match had only just commenced, the previously raucous courtyard plunged into an oppressive silence, as if every soul present had ceased breathing. Without offering him a moment to recover, I closed the distance using the Central Advance Footwork.

Transitioning from the First Form, Sword-Breaking, an essential component of the Minor Heaven Sword Art, I seamlessly unleashed the Second Form, Sword-Shearing.

Seong Mo-hyeon found himself utterly unable to organize a coherent defensive posture. He was reduced to evading my blade by the narrowest of margins, repeatedly surrendering the flat of his weapon and pieces of his attire to my slashes.

“The disciple of the Taeul Sect is completely dominating the exchange, isn’t he?”

“This is an absolute embarrassment. Especially after they orchestrated such a grand spectacle beforehand.”

“Lower your voice. The Sect Leader looks ready to murder someone.”

From the very beginning, it was impossible for history to replicate the trajectory of my previous life. I was a veteran who had forged ironclad combat experience by confronting the vanguard of the Demonic Cult on the bloodiest frontlines, whereas Seong Mo-hyeon was a pampered heir whose existence had been cushioned by Marrow-Cleansing and Hair-Shedding treatments and premium elixirs, raised like a delicate blossom inside a sanctuary.

Had his internal cultivation significantly dwarfed mine, he might have stood a fighting chance, but at this stage, my internal energy was second to none.

“After orchestrating such an elaborate trap, for your performance to be this pathetic. You will certainly find it impossible to look your fellow disciples in the eye after today.”

“Shut your mouth!”

Creating some space between us, Seong Mo-hyeon abandoned the Stone-Shattering Sword Art and braced himself to execute the Mountain-Shattering Sword Art.

The Mountain-Shattering Sword Art represented the pinnacle of the Iron Sword Sect’s martial heritage. Under normal circumstances, they needed to completely suppress me using the Stone-Shattering Sword Art to explicitly demonstrate their supremacy over the Taeul Sect. However, facing imminent defeat while doing so would result in a public relations disaster worse than abstaining entirely, making this tactical shift his only viable path.

‘Is it wise to conclude the match in this manner?’

Even factoring in the transition to the Mountain-Shattering Sword Art over the Stone-Shattering Sword Art, the version of Seong Mo-hyeon standing before me lacked the capability to best me. Yet, even if I soundly defeated him here, would that permanently dismantle the ongoing machinations of the Iron Sword Sect? Hardly. I merely occupied an anomalous position outside the norm due to the memories of my past existence, a reality the Iron Sword Sect would decipher before long.

‘If anything, they might abandon all pretense of shame.’

The public embarrassment they suffered, especially after summoning the Grand Strategist of the Murim Alliance to bear witness, would likely drive them to discard any veneer of honor and resort to outright villainy. To counter that, a unique strategy was required.

‘I must ensure the Iron Sword Sect is cast down so thoroughly that they can never hold their heads high again.’

WHOOSH, WHOOSH, WHOOSH.

With every rotation of Seong Mo-hyeon’s blade, a tremendous shockwave erupted, accompanied by the roaring sound of displaced air. It transcended simple physical might, generating enough kinetic force to cause the stone courtyard to vibrate beneath our feet.

I unleashed the forms of the Minor Heaven Sword Art once more, meeting the heavy onslaught of the Mountain-Shattering Sword Art head-on.

CLANG. CLANG, CLANG, CLANG.

As though a delicate needle had been tossed against a furiously rotating iron top, my blade was deflected backward. Seeing this, a triumphant smirk finally crept onto Seong Mo-hyeon’s face.

“Do you grasp it now? This is the unbridgeable chasm in our respective realms!”

WHOOSH, WHOOSH, WHOOSH.
THUD, THUD, THUD, THUD, THUNK!

As an emboldened Seong Mo-hyeon dragged his sword across the stone floor, fractured shards of masonry exploded outward, peppering the audience stands.

“G-get out of the way!”
“What terrifying strength!”
“As one would expect, the legacy of the Iron Sword Sect remains unmatched.”

Deliberately avoiding his exposed vulnerabilities, I dialed back the output of my internal force, intentionally mimicking a fighter whose strikes lacked the power to penetrate a heavy guard. With each consecutive collision against the Mountain-Shattering Sword Art, I allowed myself to be pushed backward, eventually allowing him to herd me to the very boundary line of the courtyard.

“This is your end!”

The exact millisecond Seong Mo-hyeon raised his weapon to deliver the final downward strike, I darted inside his guard, planting my left palm firmly against his torso while triggering the power of the Azure Dragon Bracelet.

“…!”

As if the entirety of his vitality had been instantaneously vacuumed from his body, his grip failed, and his heavy weapon clattered uselessly against the stone floor.

“Hup!?”

Seong Mo-hyeon stared directly into my eyes, his face contorted in absolute, unadulterated shock.

“What’s wrong? Do you look as though you’ve just come face-to-face with a phantom?”