Book 13 Chapter 7

The Third Gateway!

- Sword Tomb

"They're trapped by the shackles of the past!"

Na Yerin said as she stepped through the second gateway towards the third.

"……"

Bilyeon, walking in sync with her, remained silent, offering no reply. It was a rare occurrence. There were times when his mouth seemed to consider rest a sin.

"What have you been thinking about so intently since earlier?"

After asking, Na Yerin was surprised by herself.

She was asking. Why? The answer came quickly. Because she was curious! Curious? Why? Because she wanted to know! Know what?

'…his thoughts?'

Was this curiosity?

Curiosity was one of the emotions that Na Yerin still found difficult to adapt to, a very unfamiliar feeling.

"The sky is so blue, isn't it?"

Bilyeon deflected. A hawk soared through the blue sky, cutting through the wind. Strong, wide wings, blue feathers. It was a Woorey (thunder hawk).

"Ryeon!"

She raised her voice slightly in warning. As she did, she was once again surprised at herself for forcing something on another person.

Was curiosity also the motivation for this?

"…riddle…"

"What?"

Her initial words were too faint to be heard clearly.

"I was thinking about an unsolvable riddle! One that I might have to solve…"

"……?!"

Then, Bilyeon fell silent again. For the first time, Na Yerin felt a wall in Bilyeon's heart. That hard wall did not allow her approach.

Suddenly, a corner of her chest ached for no reason.

The abundance of autumn, when fruits ripen, covered the entire mountain, but only that place seemed to be excluded from its blessings.

What should that place be called? A wide open space, where a steep slope abruptly ended. It was a barren, desolate land where not a single blade of grass grew. It gave off an ominous feeling… Yet, there was something that uniquely grew in this barren land. Its number seemed to be well over a hundred.

It grew?

At first, people didn't know what it was. They thought it was just small trees, sprouting life in defiance of this desert-like desolation. However, for something like that, it had no branches or leaves.

They looked closely. People's eyes widened. They finally knew what it was.

It had clearly been standing in this place for a long time.

Lee Jin-seol reached out to one of them and touched it. The dust that covered it like skin fell off with a crisp sound. For a moment, a strong light flashed.

"Ah!"

The girl quickly withdrew her hand. The right sword eyebrow of Hyo-ryong, who stood like a village shaman, twitched for a moment. But that was all.

Na Yerin and Dokgo Ryung rushed to the girl's side to examine it. The girl's face crumpled. The girl's eyes, like inlaid jewels, looked at her slender, milky white fingers. Bright red blood was beading on the cut wound like dew. It looked like a ruby.

Na Yerin and Dokgo Ryung's gazes turned to 'it'. Bilyeon's gaze also turned to it. The blade, gleaming sharply in the sunlight. It was a sword. Moreover, a peerless sword whose edge was not dulled by a century of wind and rain. It could not belong to an ordinary person. People looked around.

'So, are these all swords?'

But these swords were not complete. They were stuck in the ground, broken in half, looking desolate. Yes, like tombstones…

"Do you like the desolation of this cemetery?"

An old man approached them. When did he arrive? A faded robe, a beard that reached his chest, and long, white hair. If the disciple's eyes were hot like flames and fierce like the day, this old man's eyes were cold like ice and quiet like the night.

The old man's right sleeve was empty where his hand should be. Just like the disciple. It was definitely not a fashion. A few people who shifted their gaze to the old man's face quickly turned away with short groans. The old man's face was covered in ghastly sword scars. Traces that looked like dozens of snakes with blades instead of scales writhing and crawling. It was a truly terrifying face, so fearsome that one's legs felt weak just looking at it.

"Who is the esteemed senior?"

Bing-geom bowed politely, forming a fist. An unusual sword energy. The old man had no sword in his hand, but his heart held a sharply honed sword. Bing-geom could desperately feel it through his skin prickling with goosebumps. His greeting was polite, but his guard remained up.

"Me? I'm just a humble tomb keeper guarding this tomb!"

Bing-geom asked back with a puzzled expression at the old man's answer.

"A tomb? Where is a tomb here?"

Looking around, there were no mounds built with earth piled up like a turtle's shell. Nor were there any tombstones.

"This entire land is a cemetery. Can't you see those many swords stuck in this land with your eyes?"

Of course, they could see them. Indeed, swords of various colors were stuck in the ground, bearing the wear and tear of time, standing like a part of nature. Some were tilted, some were straight, all in their own way.

"There are exactly 108 swords here. And a hundred years ago, they all had owners."

Naturally, the resonance contained within was extremely ominous.

"Th-that means…"

A sword is like a martial artist's life. One would be hard-pressed to find a foolish swordsman in all of Jiuzhou who would carelessly abandon his life in such a remote place. There was only one reason a martial artist would lose his sword. Furthermore, if all those swords were broken in half as if by agreement, further explanation would be meaningless.

"…countless lives were extinguished here."

Suddenly, the air became solemn. These were all people who did not care for themselves to protect the martial world. Is peace and happiness impossible without someone's effort and sacrifice? No one could answer this question.

"What is the esteemed senior's honorable surname and given name?"

Yeomdo asked politely. Internally, he was firmly resolved not to be surprised no matter who this old man turned out to be!

Then the old man said.

"I don't know what use knowing my humble, insignificant name would be, but if I must reveal it, I am called Seop Un-myeong! …Some people also called me Geomchi (Sword Maniac)."

"Gasp!"

Yeomdo ultimately failed to keep his resolution. But he was much better than Bing-geom, who let out an uncontrolled cry of 'Unbelievable! Damn it!' next to him.

Geomchi (Sword Maniac) Seop Un-myeong.

The owner of a moniker meaning a foolish person obsessed with swords. However, no one pointed their finger at him as a madman.

A hundred years ago, he contended with numerous sword masters and the number one sword in the world with just a casually cut branch. Thus, the one who could call him a mad fool would truly be the biggest fool.

A legend in the sword world who roamed the martial world a hundred years ago, leaving behind countless heroic tales!

'If there is Ildan-ae, disciple Yong Gyeong-ui, in the way of the sword, then there is Ilji Beoncheon, Geomchi Seop Un-myeong, in the way of the sword.' This was the saying circulating in the martial world at the time. However, when comparing the two, people always sided with Geomchi Seop Un-myeong. This was before Cheonmu Samseong (Three Sages of Heaven and Martial Arts), the foremost among them, Sword Sage Moyong Jeongcheon, had gained renown.

One hundred years! It was enough time for countless swordsmen to be forgotten from people's minds, and indeed they were. Yet, even now, Sword Sage Moyong Jeongcheon's skills were often compared to the legendary swordsman Geomchi Seop Un-myeong from a hundred years ago through the mouths of enthusiasts. This alone could give one a good idea of what an outstanding swordsman he was.

'Am I alive right now?'

Yeomdo grumbled that he was meeting too many dead people, whom he imagined to be wandering through nameless scenic spots in the afterlife.