Talent, by its very nature, is unkind.

You have no way of knowing what you’re talented at until you try it for yourself. Even if you do discover a talent, there’s no guarantee it will be something you actually want. And even within the same field, the disparity between talents is undeniable.

This is what they call inborn talent.

It’s something designated solely by the heavens, and all one can do is accept it and diligently refine what they’ve been given.

To me, talent is exactly that.

No different from a fortuitous encounter stumbled upon by chance—neither something to boast about, nor something to feel inferior over.

But what if you could increase your talent at will?

If your internal energy felt lacking, you could supplement your talent related to qi control. If your sword strikes felt dull, you could acquire swordsmanship talent. If you couldn’t reach your opponent, you could simply add footwork talent.

Without a doubt, countless martial artists would become frenzied with excitement, eager to remake themselves into their ideal version.

Even if that method involved eating someone’s head while they were still alive.

“Don’t tell me… it’s not internal energy, but talent that was absorbed?”

“Kliklik. Now you see clearly. If properly refined, one could even absorb innate qi, but that’s currently beyond reach. For now, only the talent was devoured as a compromise.”

Only then did I clearly understand the source of unease I’d been feeling from Hwangbo Yeongcheon.

Something was off. It was undoubtedly the awkwardness caused by hastily stitching together talents that weren’t his own.

I see. So you believed my talent was worth enough to reveal your true nature, huh?

“Of course. Blood Flame Sword Demon. Ever since the Black Lotus Lord granted a nickname to a mere late-stage practitioner, I’ve been watching. When you publicly humiliated that Gwang at the Dragon-Phoenix Gathering, I was fully convinced—that you were born with talent greater than even the successor of the Namgung Clan.”

Hwangbo Yeongcheon traced the air with his gaze, as if recalling the scene. The twisted pleasure pulling at the corners of his lips was repulsive.

Still, I was now certain—certain why Hwangbo Yeongcheon in my previous life had quietly met his end alongside the fall of the Hwangbo Clan.

And why in this life, instead of laying low, he openly turned against the Namgung Clan and flaunted his Golden Bell Technique to the world.

Originally, what he was aiming for must’ve been Namgung Jong—the Sword Dragon praised for his sword talent.

But Namgung Jong disliked Hwangbo Gwang and kept his distance, denying him any true opportunity. As a result, time simply passed without progress.

It’s true that innate qi is closely tied to physical vitality, but it doesn’t grant limitless longevity.

Seeing how even now, when there’s no need to block a sword strike, he cloaks himself in qi flame from head to toe, I’m guessing this robust body is merely a temporary shell—a form sustained by consuming a tremendous amount of internal energy.

He’s well over a hundred years old now. Time would have caught up to him long before he could execute any grand scheme. He likely died of old age or became so debilitated he couldn’t move.

So the Hwangbo Clan of my past life… and Hwangbo Yeongcheon, crumbled quietly before the Demonic Cult’s invasion.

Though this time, things have unfolded a little differently.

I admit I have outstanding talent, but not to the extent of defying the entirety of the martial world just to claim it.

However, to Hwangbo Yeongcheon—who knows nothing of my regression—I must’ve appeared as a once-in-a-century prodigy.

With so little time left to live, I was a gamble worth making.

“So I was your target from the beginning. Hwangbo Gwang wasn’t the real bait, huh. I suppose you stirred up every corner of the Namgung Clan?”

“Kukuk. Right again. No matter which bait you bit, I planned to follow. I didn’t expect you to head toward that foolish great-grandson, but… well, since you brought along the Tang girl, all the better. I can now test whether I can absorb constitutions as well.”

“…Heh.”

So he really is a great-grandfather, and that’s why he was called “grandfather.”

And now, he’s even planning to rip off Tang Sowol’s head too?

I didn’t bother hiding the murderous intent that surged up from the depths of my chest. I let it loose.

The killing aura bore down heavily across the entire area. No matter how unhinged this bastard might be, even he wouldn’t be able to ignore this.

“Just as I thought…!”

Contrary to his slight twitch, Hwangbo Yeongcheon nodded in satisfaction, a pleased expression on his face, deepening the scowl on mine.

“You disgusting wretch. Even if you become strong through such means, what meaning is there in that?”

“Hmph. A child like you wouldn’t understand. The feeling of helplessly watching your clan crumble because you had no talent or strength. The frustration of not being able to avenge your children even after their deaths! If only there had been a Flowering Stage master… If only I had reached the Flowering Stage…!”

“Whether it’s you or anyone else, even if someone from the Hwangbo Clan reached the Flowering Stage, what difference would it make? You people are already no better than beasts, feeding on human flesh. Thugs who stab peasants in the back when they come seeking help. No one in the martial world will ever acknowledge you. Well, perhaps you could be recognized… as public enemies of Murim.”

“How dare you! You little whelp, not even of age, trying to lecture me about Murim?! Murim is a forest of blood! Only strength—only power determines everything!”

“Well, you don’t seem all that strong… But even setting that aside, what you just said doesn’t sound like the words of someone from an orthodox sect.”

Ever since my regression, as I observed the still-functioning orthodox world of Murim, I realized something.

“It’s not about how great your power is. What matters is what you wield that power for.”

If you swing your sword for personal gain and desire, that’s a path I know all too well—the path of the unorthodox.

But if you can raise your sword for something beyond yourself…

If you can wield it not for short-term gain, but for what you truly believe is right…

That is what I’ve come to know as the true essence of an orthodox martial artist.

“First, protect your family. If you have more strength to spare, shelter your people and comrades. Only after that should you seek glory.”

What meaning is there in pursuing glory if you discard your own family to get there?

If someone abandons their principles and casts aside even their loved ones in the pursuit of personal and clan honor—

“That’s the kind of scum that even the unorthodox world reviles. Did you know even the unorthodox despise those who stab their own brothers in the back?”

“This conversation’s gone on long enough. I didn’t stand idle just to humor you. I’ve already adapted, so now I’ll devour you in one bite.”

Feigning calm, Hwangbo Yeongcheon replied. But did he realize how much he resembled Hwangbo Gwang, who used to flare up at the Namgung Clan?

I gave a hollow laugh as I raised my sword once more, crimson flames dancing along the blade.

“You weren’t the only one stalling for time.”

“Ha! As if this would be enough to gather the scattered strength of the Namgung Clan in one place.”

“I never counted on their help to begin with.”

Of course not. If you don’t know how thoroughly the enemy prepared their trap, you have to assume the worst.

I had long since given up on any help from the Namgung Clan. If it were Seo Mun-Hwarin, it’d be a different story… but I couldn’t wait forever for her.

What I’d placed my faith in was Tang Sowol, who I’d pushed far out of the fight.

A faint acrid scent brushed the tip of my nose. Yes, it should be about time for her potent, concealed poison to start taking effect.

The Tang Sowol I know wouldn’t just sit on her hands, no matter how bad the situation.

There was no need to turn around or exchange secret signals.

Hwangbo Yeongcheon’s body, cloaked in an unnaturally thick gray qi flame that felt more like stone than skin, started to blur at the edges.

More precisely, the qi flame of Hwangbo Yeongcheon—unknowingly poisoned by Mountain Empty Poison—began to slip out of control.

“Impossible…!”

His face twisted in shock. Likely because he never expected to be poisoned through such overwhelming qi, or perhaps because the poison was so subtle he never noticed it.

Whatever the case, one thing was certain—my sword would now reach him.

I pushed off the ground toward the still-flustered man.

Kkwaang!

With a single step, my body accelerated to top speed. Since we had already clashed once and put a bit of distance between us, one step was all it took.

I drew upon every last drop of internal energy I could muster.

There are many types of Mountain Empty Poison, so I had no idea what specific blend was used. But—wasn’t Tang Sowol the one managing my poison resistance?

Even if I didn’t know the details, it had to be a combination safe for me.

Ffwoosh!

As if confirming my assumption, my internal energy moved just as usual and surged through the blade, turning it into a blazing inferno.

It was consuming more than twice the usual amount of qi, but that was fine—I didn’t intend to drag this out anyway.

The crimson flame-wreathed sword came down toward Hwangbo Yeongcheon’s crown.

“Let’s see you block this too.”

“You insolent…! Did you really think this alone would be enough?!”

His movements had dulled slightly, but he still managed to raise both arms in time, thanks to his grotesquely twitching body.

My blade fell upon his crossed forearms.

Puuhk!

It pierced through the unstable qi flame, cutting into his flesh, embedding deep into the muscle.

A stark difference from before, when I’d only grazed the surface.

I sneered at Hwangbo Yeongcheon’s startled expression beyond his bleeding arms.

“Now we can finally kill each other. Isn’t that fair?”

“Guh! But this changes nothing!”

Murderous intent surged in his eyes, and his thigh muscles twitched.

His foot shot up with explosive force. A strike that would shatter my jaw if it connected—and if it did, it surely would.

Unlike me, who had concentrated all my qi into the sword and left the rest of my body vulnerable, Hwangbo Yeongcheon still had unstable, flickering qi flames around his entire body.

That was likely why he remained confident of victory.

Even if slashed, he wouldn’t suffer more than surface wounds—but I’d be in grave danger if I took even one hit.

Then again, I just have to avoid being hit at all.

The moment his leg surged between my arms, I shifted my grip from two hands to one and twisted my waist.

Pang!

His foot barely missed my ear as it swept through the air with a thunderous boom.

My ear rang, but I spun my body in rhythm with my twisted waist.

I naturally rotated to the side, my right hand drawing a tight circle with the sword as I thrust it from below toward Hwangbo Yeongcheon’s calf.

Ssskuk.

With only one hand, I couldn’t apply full strength, so I couldn’t cut deep. Still, I managed to slice through his skin and some of the muscle beneath.

Having been wounded twice now, Hwangbo Yeongcheon flew into a frenzy, charging in wildly.

“Krragh! Aaaagh! Give me that power! That talent!”

“Who knows. Even if you had it, I doubt anything would change.”

Through our exchanges, I was sure of it.

He really was absorbing talent—but he couldn’t properly utilize it.

“With that kind of martial art, you’ll never reach the Flowering Stage.”

Hwangbo Yeongcheon’s path was the wrong one.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep