The Martial Genius Who Remembers Everything Novel - Chapter 12

Chapter 12
## Chapter 12. A Third-Rate Warrior Who Protects His Sect’s Honor (6)

“What on earth is happening?”

“Indeed. No matter how one perceives this, it is truly……”

“They claimed the Blood Wolf of the Twin Wolf Iron Swords possessed talent far surpassing the local standard, but that appears to have been nothing more than a groundless fabrication.”

An initiate of the Taeul Sect was completely dominating the brightest star of the Iron Sword Sect. Yet, the gathering crowd seemed far more inclined to mock the Iron Sword Sect’s shortcomings than to praise the skill of the Taeul Sect.

This is a complete mess, frankly.

Because the Taeul Sect had spent centuries failing to act as even a harmless illusion of a threat, let alone a genuine powerhouse, shifting public sentiment regarding their worth was going to be an incredibly slow process.

To accelerate that transformation, I required a pretext so undeniable that the reputation of the Iron Sword Sect wouldn’t just be damaged; it would utterly disintegrate.

A deep conviction needed to be planted across the Murim: the moment the Iron Sword Sect even blinked at their neighbors, everyone would instantly think, ‘Look at those scoundrels. They are trying to plunder the Taeul Sect exactly like common criminals of the Black Path.’

“Haa, haa. Haa.”

Reflecting on that strategy, the current arena was unfolding precisely to my advantage.

Seong Mo-hyeon cut a thoroughly pathetic figure after repeatedly resorting to the desperate Lazy Donkey Roll—a profoundly embarrassing display for any respected martial artist—leaving his skin marred by minor lacerations.

In stark contrast, my own form remained immaculate, entirely devoid of injuries, and my breathing wasn’t even slightly disrupted.

To any bystander, my absolute superiority was undeniable, yet Seong Mo-hyeon simply could not bring himself to yield.

‘I wouldn’t throw in the towel either under these conditions.’

Primarily, the sheer volume of witnesses made surrender impossible.

It wasn’t just the internal members of the Iron Sword Sect present; practically every notable drinker from throughout Anhui Province had congregated at this event.

And as everyone knows, salacious gossip is considered the absolute finest accompaniment to a jar of wine.

Should he suffer an official loss on this day, Seong Mo-hyeon would carry a lifelong stigma as the failure who couldn’t even best an underling from the Taeul Sect.

Beyond that, the primary driver behind his stubbornness was his stubborn belief that victory was still within his grasp.

Analyzing the progression of our exchange, I hadn’t displayed any sophisticated blade technique capable of directly countering the Mountain-Shattering Sword Art.

Logically, he believed he should be winning, yet an inexplicable disruption kept severing his internal energy, completely paralyzing his spiritual circulation.

“Your cultivation of internal methods appears terribly neglected.”

“……Y-you insolent dog!”

The internal energy surging from a martial artist’s Dantian ought to cascade without interruption like a mountain river, but because the Azure Dragon Bracelet continuously blocked the current, neither his blade forms nor his physical force could properly coalesce.

“You wretch, what exactly are you doing to me……”

“Whatever do you mean by that?”

“You bastard, could it be that you’ve—”

“It appears your inadequate skill is causing your mind to wander during combat.”

SWISH.

SHRRRK.

With a swift trajectory, Seong Mo-hyeon’s topknot was severed by my blade.

Looking like a completely unkempt vagrant, Seong Mo-hyeon exhaled raggedly, his pride entirely consumed by blinding fury.

“Does something strike you as unnatural?”

“Huu, huu.”

Even someone as dim-witted as Seong Mo-hyeon finally grasped the anomaly at this juncture, abandoning his weapon to engage in hand-to-hand strikes. The very instant our palms collided, I triggered the Azure Dragon Bracelet, siphoning away a massive portion of his internal reservoir.

“Huuup!”

His suspicion instantly crystallized into total certainty.

Recoiling in sheer terror as if confronted by a malevolent phantom, Seong Mo-hyeon bounded backward toward safety.

He then bellowed wildly toward the elevated seating.

“W-witchcraft! He is employing forbidden witchcraft!”

The words had scarcely left his lips before the resident martial artists and dignitaries of the Iron Sword Sect rose in unison from the VIP dais.

Regardless of their sudden uproar, I drove my weapon toward Seong Mo-hyeon with even more merciless ferocity.

“Hiiik!”

An unseemly sound that straddled the line between a screech and a sob burst from Seong Mo-hyeon as he threw himself into the dirt, rolling frantically.

The lacerations multiplying across his frame deepened with every passing second, while a mixture of unvarnished terror and mucus stained his face.

“Cease this at once!”

Ultimately unable to endure the spectacle, the Iron Sword Sect Leader stood up from his central seat and roared.

His command, supercharged by decades of internal cultivation, reverberated so violently that it threatened to rupture the eardrums of the assembly, causing several weaker martial artists to grip their temples and stumble.

“Haa, haa.”

The very second Seong Mo-hyeon shifted his gaze, visibly relieved by the intervention of the Iron Sword Sect Leader, I unleashed the Minor Heaven Sword Art with the explicit purpose of taking his head.

“Did you honestly believe your patriarch’s shout would grant you salvation?”

SWISH.

Seong Mo-hyeon, whose short-lived relief vanished as the Minor Heaven Sword Art rapidly closed the distance, began scrambling backward in a desperate attempt to evade the strikes before he could even execute proper evasive footwork.

Anticipating his exact trajectory, I stepped ahead and delivered a sweeping, diagonal laceration directly across his exposed back.

“Kraaak!”

As a massive gash tore from his right shoulder down toward his left flank, crimson fluid erupted into the air.

Just as I prepared to reverse my grip and deliver a fatal follow-up strike across his spine.

The Iron Sword Sect Leader materialized directly in front of me, thrusting his palm forward.

With a deafening concussive blast, my form was propelled back a distance of two jang.

—

‘The situation is spiraling completely out of control.’

Such was the grim realization of the Iron Sword Sect Leader, Seong Cheon-wol.

It was one of those rare, agonizing scenarios where a man cannot pinpoint the exact flaw, yet remains acutely aware that a disaster is unfolding—and because the stakes are monumental, intervention is not easily executed.

That precise dilemma paralyzed Seong Cheon-wol at this very moment.

“The swordsmanship of the Taeul Sect possesses an unexpectedly lethal edge.”

When Jegal So-myeong uttered those words in an analytical undertone, the patriarch’s underlying dread grew exponentially.

By all accounts, the blade arts of the Taeul Sect were historically far too insubstantial to breach the heavy defenses of the Iron Sword Sect.

The foundational principles of their respective styles were entirely mismatched, creating an unfavorable matchup for the smaller school.

For a disciple of the Taeul Sect to pierce through the Iron Sword Sect’s defense, they would theoretically need a vastly superior foundation of internal energy.

“That youth representing the Taeul Sect appears to possess an immense amount of practical, life-or-death combat experience.”

As Jegal So-myeong continued his assessment, the mental fog obscuring Seong Cheon-wol’s vision instantly dissipated. Forcing himself to objectively scrutinize the martial prowess of the audacious boy named Jin So-un, he experienced a jarring shock, as if struck by a heavy blow.

The boy’s tactical adaptability, which eclipsed that of seasoned martial wanderers, allowed a basic form to manifest as an entirely unrecognizable, lethal technique.

Yet, by the time the patriarch deciphered the trap, the damage was already done.

“Kraaak.”

His treasured grandson, Seong Mo-hyeon, shrieked in agony as he collapsed onto the stones, his lifeblood pooling around him.

Seong Cheon-wol could no longer afford the luxury of quiet contemplation.

“You insolent wretch! Did my command to halt fail to reach your ears!”

The youth who had been hurled back two jang showed absolutely no intention of backing down, steadily marching right back toward the center of the ring.

“Has a definitive victor not been established?”

“How dare a mere junior speak to me in such a manner!”

“The individual named Seong stubbornly refused to capitulate. Had he gracefully conceded the match, he would not have spilled a single drop of blood.”

Regardless of the provocation, was it ever acceptable to inflict such grievous harm during a formal exhibition?

“Are you suggesting your barbaric actions are justified?”

“That individual not only refused to yield, but he also flagrantly defamed my hard-won triumph by fabricating allegations of witchcraft. To top it off, he turned his back to me in a cowardly attempt to flee. Had this gathering not been organized to celebrate the Sect Leader’s milestone sixtieth birthday, I would have separated his head from his shoulders rather than merely cutting his back.”

“Silence your treacherous mouth, boy!”

Seong Cheon-wol was desperate to suppress that specific word—witchcraft—at all costs.

Because terms like “witchcraft” or “forbidden arts” carried severe political consequences, they were never to be uttered carelessly in polite company.

The catastrophic problem was that the person who had loudly proclaimed it was his own flesh and blood.

“In the first place, this orchestrated public degradation parading as a martial challenge only occurred due to your grandson’s relentless insults, Sect Leader. Do you genuinely maintain that your house acts with righteousness?”

“You miserable brat!”

The silk robes of the Iron Sword Sect Leader began to violently expand from a sudden surge of energy.

He intended to use sheer spiritual pressure to break the boy’s resolve and force a retreat, yet the young warrior didn’t flinch in the slightest.

If anything, as though he had been waiting for this exact ethical slip, the youth’s eyes flashed with intensity as he advanced.

“It appears the Iron Sword Sect is a fragile, petty institution incapable of accepting a loss in an untainted martial duel, forcing its own leader to manually disrupt the proceedings. Do you comprehend the reality now? The ultimate reason the Iron Sword Sect remains excluded from the prestigious One Hundred Eight Peaks is due to a fundamental rot within the sect itself.”

With every syllable the youth fired into the crowd, the underlying disposition of the surrounding guests began to subtly fracture and turn.

The Iron Sword Sect Leader found himself backed into an impossible corner where any choice would lead to ruin.

“It was witchcraft, I am absolutely certain of it. Grandfather, you must believe me!”

Seong Cheon-wol felt a murderous urge to permanently sew Seong Mo-hyeon’s lips shut then and there.

“……Hold your tongue!”

“It is the absolute truth! I experienced it firsthand! That demon has unquestionably mastered the forbidden Great Star-Absorbing Art!”

The Iron Sword Sect Leader glared down at his grandson with an expression of pure, unadulterated disbelief at such monumental stupidity.

In the heat of an isolated skirmish, such claims might be dismissed as panicked nonsense, but when voiced clearly in front of a massive assembly of peer schools, one must never validate the existence of an illegal martial discipline.

Ultimately, the moment a house officially alleges the involvement of a forbidden art, they bear the immense burden of proving it to the wider orthodox community.

Furthermore, the Grand Strategist of the Murim Alliance and high-ranking representatives of the illustrious Namgung Clan were actively observing the event from the pavilion.

Mercifully, neither the Namgung Clan nor Jegal So-myeong made an immediate move to intervene.

At the very least, it meant the exorbitant fortunes spent on bribing those factions had not been entirely wasted.

“Do you swear this to be factual?”

“How else could a master of my caliber possibly suffer a defeat?!”

“You absolute fool……”

If his grandson was fabricating this monumental accusation merely to salvage his broken ego after a loss, he would face execution.

Even if it meant the primary bloodline of the Iron Sword Sect would end with him.

“Grandfather! I am Seong Mo-hyeon, the renowned Blood Wolf Iron Sword. From the moment of my birth, I have never been bested by anyone of my generation in terms of spiritual reserve or martial execution. Do you honestly believe it is structurally possible for someone of my pedigree to lose to a nonentity from the Taeul Sect?”

While personal discipline had played a part, Seong Mo-hyeon had been pampered since his youth with every premium advancement available, ranging from the legendary Marrow-Cleansing and Hair-Shedding treatments to a vast assortment of priceless spiritual panaceas.

Even through an entirely unbiased lens, there was no logical universe where Seong Mo-hyeon should suffer defeat at the hands of Jin So-un.

“What possible reason would I have to fabricate an existential lie? I vividly felt my internal circulation shatter on multiple occasions throughout our duel, and my hard-earned spiritual energy was actively drained away. I prolonged the fight specifically to verify this phenomenon.”

Seong Mo-hyeon delivered his frantic defense through a torrent of humiliated tears.

“You are absolutely certain your energy pathways were disrupted during active circulation?”

“Without a doubt. And that was merely the beginning. Toward the conclusion of the match, I distinctly felt the very energy I was weaponizing get violently torn from my body.”

Once the testimony reached this level of granular detail, the collective suspicion of the courtyard shifted back toward Jin So-un.

“If your allegations prove to be a fabrication—”

“I, Seong Mo-hyeon, a direct heir of the Iron Sword Sect, solemnly swear that if this is revealed to be a falsehood, I will unreservedly forfeit my life as punishment for the transgression.”

“Very well.”

Seong Cheon-wol resolved to place his entire future on his grandson’s conviction.

Nourishing a sudden, opportunistic hope that he might be able to completely demolish the leadership of the Taeul Sect by dawn tomorrow, he turned his gaze to Jin So-un.

“You heard the testimony. I must personally inspect your meridians.”

Weighing the catastrophic implications of the charge, the patriarch ultimately committed a fatal strategic error.

Deep down, he was undoubtedly praying that I had actually cultivated such an illicit technique.

If that proved true, he could easily annex the territory of the dissolved Taeul Sect to establish a subsidiary training center for his own house, secure his coveted seat among the One Hundred Eight Peaks, and expand his domain across the entirety of the Hefei region.

However, I had no intention of allowing him to execute such a transparent power grab.

“By what legal authority do you command such an inspection?”

“It is a duty I naturally execute as a righteous master dedicated to preserving the peace of the Murim.”

“Are you truly so desperate to drive my humble school to total destruction?”

Seong Cheon-wol had blundered catastrophically.

Any martial artist possessing even a modicum of survival instinct would never master the notorious Great Star-Absorbing Art only to display it openly before a massive public gathering.

Doing so would be tantamount to launching a flare inviting the entire orthodox faction to tear one’s body to pieces.

“The prestige of the Iron Sword Sect echoes across Hefei—no, throughout the entirety of Anhui Province. Is it simply because you failed to secure a rank within the One Hundred Eight Peaks that you now resort to framing a minor sect like the Taeul Sect as a heretical, unorthodox cult?”

“Are you boldly implying that my own grandson is standing here weaving fabrications?”

“My house has already suffered grievous reputational damage due to the wild accusations of that unstable man. If myself and the Taeul Sect are proven entirely innocent of this heresy, how do you intend to compensate us for the fallout?”

“…….”

“Though our current status may be modest, we still hold legitimate stewardship over one of the peaks within the One Hundred Eight Peaks. Am I to interpret your baseless accusation as a direct challenge to the authority of the Murim Alliance?”

Seeing as the Grand Strategist himself was a captive audience, it was the perfect moment to drag the Murim Alliance into the dispute.

“Silence! The more you attempt to deflect with complex arguments, the more my suspicions are validated. As I stated, once I complete my physical evaluation, I shall formally contact the Execution Pavilion of the Murim Alliance to ensure both you and your entire sect are brought to justice for this outrage.”

As the Iron Sword Sect Leader attempted to salvage his positioning, I metaphorically grabbed him by the throat and squeezed.

“I! Staking the entirety of my personal virtue and the sacred lineage of my school, will fight against the Iron Sword Sect’s tyrannical and baseless persecution until my very last breath!”

Suppressing my cultivated internal arts, I consciously drew upon my raw, primordial innate true qi.

A fierce crimson flush flooded my face, and much like the patriarch’s earlier display, my garments billowed violently as if pushed by an internal explosion.

“This absolute lunatic……”

The Iron Sword Sect Leader hissed, visibly unnerved by the sight of a junior prepared to invoke total mutual annihilation.

Infusing my voice with every ounce of spiritual force I could muster, I cast a thunderous declaration across the grounds.

“Hall Master! Should I be permanently maimed or perish on this field today! I charge you to ensure that not a single soul defiles my remains until the official investigators from the Execution Pavilion of the Murim Alliance arrive to secure the scene!”

“Jin So-un!”

My father’s voice cut through the air, heavy with desperation.

“Father! This unfilial child must ultimately sacrifice his physical well-being to answer this profound insult, but as it is executed for the sake of the Taeul Sect—which I cherish above my own existence—I beg for your understanding and forgiveness.”

The moment my conviction reached its absolute peak, an incredibly heavy, suffocating spiritual pressure materialized over the training grounds and the surrounding architecture.

The countenances of both the Iron Sword Sect Leader and Seong Mo-hyeon twisted under the weight of that immense presence.

Displaying an utterly fearless demeanor, I took a single, deliberate step toward the Iron Sword Sect Leader, causing the seasoned patriarch to unconsciously stumble back three paces.

“Hmph! Do you honestly think I would stand idly by and watch an initiate who hasn’t even stepped foot inside Swift Blossom Hall ruin his future so recklessly!”

Kang Chae-seok, Hong Sa-ryeon, and my father all leaped onto the raised arena simultaneously.

“There is no father under heaven who will willingly bury his own offspring. On this day, I am entirely prepared to leave my bones within the soil of the Iron Sword Sect.”

The representative elite of the Taeul Sect radiated a fierce, sacrificial momentum, clearly prepared to wage a war of total extermination against the Iron Sword Sect Leader.

“H-how dare you ungrateful peasants……”

The Iron Sword Sect Leader breathed heavily, struggling to contain his explosive rage.

Yet, he was entirely powerless to act.

He possessed the raw martial power to crush us where we stood, but executing such a massacre in front of these witnesses would permanently ruin any chance his sect had of joining the One Hundred Eight Peaks for the next century.

In total desperation, the Iron Sword Sect Leader directed a pleading look toward Jegal So-myeong.

The collective gaze of the entire gathered audience followed his lead, pivoting toward the strategist.

Everyone present understood with absolute clarity that Jegal So-myeong was the sole authority capable of defusing this powder keg.

“That is quite enough.”

As Jegal So-myeong rose from his viewing chair, his voice carried effortlessly into every single corner of the expansive courtyard.

Though he spoke without raising his voice, the words possessed an absolute, unyielding authority.

“Everyone…… sheath your weapons.”

The very instant the command was issued, Seong Mo-hyeon and Seong Cheon-wol lowered their blades, prompting the guard of the Taeul Sect to return their own swords to their scabbards one after the other.

“……?”

Jegal So-myeong’s discerning eyes, heavy with analytical calculation, locked directly onto me.

“For what reason do you keep your weapon drawn?”

Maintaining the precise, unyielding stare I had been directing at Seong Cheon-wol, I met Jegal So-myeong’s eyes and delivered my reply.

“Because I find it impossible to place my trust in a Grand Strategist of the Murim Alliance who chose to remain a passive bystander until this very moment, I refuse to sheath my blade.”

“!!!”

“!!!”

The masters standing upon the dirt of the arena.

The spectators ringing the perimeter of the courtyard.

Even the distant observers peering through the elevated windows of the surrounding pavilions all wore expressions of unmitigated, absolute horror.